Breakaway

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Breakaway Page 7

by Deirdre Martin


  Rory’s hand stopped moving but remained atop LJ’s head as he addressed Erin.

  “He felt ill when he came to camp, but he didn’t want to tell anyone because he didn’t want to miss out on practice.” He looked down at LJ. “That was a silly thing to do,” Rory chided softly. “Missing a day, even missing a few days, is no big deal. What if you had the flu? You would have gotten everyone else sick.”

  “But I was afraid if I didn’t come, you’d put Frankie Dunlop in goal and you’d see he’s better than me and I’d never be in goal again.”

  “Now that is pure madness,” Rory assured him. “Haven’t Jackson and I been rotating you all?”

  “Yes, but I’m best in goal. My dad, he always said so.”

  Rory flashed Erin a quick look as if to say, That feck is still around? Erin gave a small shrug. She was not about to get into Sandra’s business with Rory if she could avoid it.

  Erin looked down at her patient. “Are you well enough to let me take you home, do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” LJ said piteously. “I might need to have a good rest here for a little while longer. I’d hate to upchuck in your da’s Fiesta, Erin.”

  Erin pressed her lips together to avoid laughing. The whole town knew about her father’s obsession with his car.

  “Guess what? We’re going to have a big adventure in that department.”

  Some color leapt into LJ’s cheeks. “What?”

  Erin lowered her voice. “We’re going home in a cab.”

  “A cab!” LJ exclaimed. “I’ve never been in a cab.”

  Erin smiled weakly. “Well, it’ll be fun.” She rose. “I’ll just ring for it, shall I? Will you be all right for a few minutes?”

  LJ nodded his head.

  Erin walked into the hall and took out her mobile. Rory followed.

  “Erin, don’t call a cab.”

  She ignored him as she flipped open her phone.

  “Don’t call a cab,” he repeated more emphatically.

  “Why on earth would you think this is any concern of yours?”

  “I have a perfectly good car sitting in the parking lot. I could run you and Larry—LJ—home, no problem.”

  Erin looked at him a moment before chortling with disbelief. “Sod off, Rory. I’d rather pluck my own eyes out of my head than get in a car with you.”

  “Yeah? What about LJ? You want him puking in a cab?”

  Erin scowled. “No.”

  “So then let me do this for him.”

  “No. Not only do I not want our lives to intersect in any way, but I remember how you drive.”

  “I drive fine,” Rory protested.

  “Oh, yes, you drive great. I seem to remember a certain someone nearly wrapping us around a tree after swerving to avoid some sheep.”

  “That was a long time ago. I’d forgotten about it. I’m surprised you remember.”

  “I remember lots of things. Like you wrecking my life. Did that one slip out of the ole memory box after too many pucks to the head?”

  “Erin, I swear to God—”

  “Spare me.” She started toward the complex door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to ask Jackson to bring me home.”

  “Jackson is in the middle of coaching.”

  “You two can just switch places.”

  “Erin,” said Rory, raising his voice, “would you stop being bullheaded and just let me take you and LJ home? Do it for him, yeah?”

  “Fine,” Erin said grumpily. “As long as it’s just for LJ. And I don’t want you to say a word to me between here and Sandra’s house. AND I’m sitting in the back with La—LJ.”

  Rory looked amused.

  “This isn’t amusing.”

  Rory held up his hands in surrender. “I know.”

  “Let’s get this poor child home. And remember—”

  “I’m nothing but your chauffeur. Got it.”

  * * *

  “Thank you for the lift. I can walk from here, thank you.”

  LJ had looked a bit green when they’d started out from the camp, but then Rory engaged him in football chat and told him stories about New York, and he perked up a bit. What lad wouldn’t, having a private audience with the great Rory Brady and getting a ride in his Range Rover?

  A few times, Erin caught Rory looking at her in the rearview mirror, and she’d frown. What did he think? One potent look from his famous blue eyes and she’d come undone? Arrogant twit.

  After thanking Rory for the lift, she took LJ inside. Lucy was there, legs dangling over the side of the sofa while she watched a repeat of Father Ted. She barely looked up as Erin gave her a piece of her mind about feeding her siblings. But then Erin spoke the magic words: “You do know that if I tell your mother about this, she’ll take away some of your privileges, don’t you?” The lackadaisical teen pretended not to care, but Erin caught the unsettled look that flickered across her face.

  Erin wondered if she should stay until Sandra got home, but LJ seemed recovered enough to hop on to the computer. Erin rustled his hair, told him to ring her if he needed her, and left.

  Rory’s Range Rover was idling outside Sandra’s house, the passenger-side window rolled down. “I’ll run you home. Hop in.”

  “Hop yourself.”

  “C’mon, Erin; you’re being ridiculous.”

  Erin refused to look at him as she started to walk away, Rory’s car crawling along beside her.

  “Get in. I’m going to keep shadowing you till you do.”

  “Really?” She pointed to a small rusted Toyota two blocks up. “How are you going to explain it to the owner when you just keep going and you smash into the back of his car?”

  “I’ll pay for repairs.”

  “God!” Erin spat out disgustedly. “Do you hear yourself? ‘Look at me, I’m Mr. Smoothie. I’ve got money. I don’t care whose property I destroy’”—she looked at him pointedly—“‘or who I hurt, because I’m the great Rory Brady.’”

  “It was a joke.”

  “Right.” She couldn’t believe his car was continuing to crawl beside her.

  “D’you want me to beg? I will. Erin, please, please—”

  “Shut up!” Erin snapped. Embarrassed, she hopped into the passenger seat and slunk down. “Happy now?”

  “Yes.” Rory stopped the car and looked at her. “Why’re you sinking down like you’ve got no spine?”

  “I don’t want to be seen with you!”

  Rory hit a button and the passenger-side window silently closed. “Suit yourself,” he said, easing away from the curb. “But the windows are tinted. No one can see you anyway.”

  Erin reluctantly sat up straight. She hadn’t really had a chance to take in the car while riding back from the camp, being more concerned with LJ. But it was beautiful. Leather seats, a GPS, and all that…and it didn’t make a sound, just purred along. A rich man’s car. She could just imagine what Old Jack and that lot were saying about it. The sheer jealousy of it must be choking them.

  She hadn’t really taken in Rory, either. As soon as she’d stupidly agreed to let him drive her and LJ, they’d gone directly to the car. He was in football gear: jersey and shorts. It showed off his physique, his muscled legs…and contrary to what she’d said, he was a good driver. Confident in everything. Erin used to wish some of it would rub off on her.

  They were halfway down the road before Erin asked, “Where’re you going?”

  Rory looked at her oddly. “What do you mean, where am I going? I’m going to your house.”

  “I don’t live on Bryant Street anymore, Rory. My parents sold the house and they’re running a B and B now. But then you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

  “Actually, I do know about it. My gran told me. I’d just forgotten.”

  Erin softened for a minute. She loved Rory’s gran. She felt guilty because she hadn’t visited her since Rory dumped her. Talk about self-absorbed.

  “Where is it, then?”


  Erin hesitated, then told him, “Carmen Road.”

  “Two blocks from the High Street,” Rory murmured, more to himself than Erin. “Makes sense.”

  Erin smiled sweetly. “Do you still know your way round town? It’s been years since you’ve graced Ballycraig with your presence.”

  Rory glanced at her with surprise. “When did you get snarky?”

  “Probably around the same time you kicked my teeth in.”

  Rory was quiet. Erin couldn’t wait for the ride to be over. She was filled with an anxiety that wouldn’t ease. If it kept on this way, she would explode.

  She closed her eyes, the better to get hold of the roiling inside. It was the first time she caught a whiff of Rory’s footballers’ scent—sweaty, earthy—and it kicked something back to life inside her, a fast-moving array of images: watching Rory play football, she and Rory picnicking at the pond, she and Rory in a booth at the Oak, imagining their future while Erin got a little tipsy. Rory and—

  “What’re you smiling about?”

  Erin opened her eyes.

  “You were smiling,” Rory repeated.

  “So?”

  “You were thinking about me. Us.”

  “Oh, of course. I was thinking about you. Because that’s all that anyone in Ballycraig does: think about Rory Brady.”

  “You were thinking about me,” he said lightly, “but if you want to deny it, I understand.”

  “You know what? The only thing bigger than your bollocks is your ego.”

  Rory laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  They pulled up in front of the B and B.

  “Go around the corner,” Erin demanded. “The last thing I need is my mother seeing this car and thinking some visiting dignitary has come to stay. Go round to Benton Avenue.”

  Rory did as she asked. She could picture her mother getting all wound up if she thought someone famous or rich might be coming to stay. Working herself into a frenzy. It wouldn’t be good.

  She turned to Rory as he pulled to the curb. “Thank you for the lift.”

  “We need to talk.”

  She knew this was coming. “Do we?”

  Rory switched off the ignition. “I have something I need to say.”

  “I bet I can recite it by heart,” Erin said bitterly. “‘I’m sorry I hurt you, Erin. I never meant to. If I could take it all back, I would. I was just out of my head, being in Manhattan and all. I made a mistake, love. A big, big mistake. Can you forgive me and take me back?’”

  “You’ve found me out.”

  Erin refused to look into his eyes. She knew Rory, and she knew he was sitting there looking smug as hell, thinking, C’mon, you know you want to smile. You know you do.

  When she refused to react to his joke, he changed his approach. “Look, I know you wish I hadn’t come back for the summer. But since I have, it would mean a lot to me if you’d let me do one small thing for you to make your life easier.”

  “And what would that be?” Erin asked guardedly.

  “Let me drive you around.” Erin had barely opened her mouth to respond when he rushed in with, “Hear me out. I don’t know how you got up to the camp, but if it weren’t for me, you would have had to take a sick child home in a cab. The other day when I saw you, you were dragging those groceries home from the bus. I’ve got this car. Please let me put it to good use.”

  “And what? Let you chauffeur me around?”

  “Yes,” Rory said plainly. “If you need to go to Moneygall to get groceries for your mother, I’ll take you. I’ll take you anywhere you need to go, anytime you need to go.”

  Erin was dumbfounded. “You’ve gone soft in the head.”

  “I’ve not,” Rory insisted. “Think about it. It would make your life easier. I owe you at least that much.”

  “Charity.”

  “It’s not charity. It’s a small start at amends.”

  Her mind was a hodgepodge. “My mother will—”

  “Sod your mother. She’s always pushed you around. You can do as you please.”

  Erin knew he was right.

  “And camp?”

  “I can do as I please.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Erin muttered reluctantly. “But it’s very doubtful I’m going to want to be trapped in a car with you on a regular basis.”

  “You’ve every right to feel that way. But don’t let pride stand in the way of making your life easier. I need to do something for you, and right now, this is all I can come up with. Whatever you decide, the offer will be on the table for as long as I’m here.”

  7

  Driving over to Jake’s, Rory reflected on the progress he’d made with Erin two days before. He’d only managed to scratch the surface of her defenses, but it was a start. He’d been thrilled that they’d managed to actually have a bona fide conversation, even if Erin did hurl a few choice remarks his way. She could’ve said far worse. She probably wanted to. But that wasn’t Erin. He knew her: deep down inside, there was a free spirit screaming to get out, but she was trapped in the role of dutiful daughter. Rory and Erin’s mother had never gotten along. He understood why. In Mrs. O’Brien’s world, daughters were supposed to take care of their mothers when they were old, and Rory was going to take her daughter away. She had to be thrilled that things had fallen apart between them.

  Yet despite the difficulty Erin’s mother had always presented, there was never any doubt that Erin loved her—loved her whole family, in fact. She was extremely loyal, a trait Rory had always appreciated. And she was kind, the kindest person he knew. Erin was the one who’d always stuck up for the kid being bullied on the playground, the one willing to risk being a target herself when some poor, smelly bastard was eating alone in the lunchroom. But she herself was never targeted, because she was well liked; having Sandra as backup didn’t hurt, either. Everyone at school knew that if they dared look at Erin cross-eyed, they’d have to answer to Sandra, who could pack quite a punch.

  Memories swirled round in his head like taunting ghosts as he recalled all those times he and Erin had laughed together. She’d always been able to make him laugh, and vice versa. It had helped defuse many a tense moment. They’d cried together, too. Rory never felt more himself than when he was with Erin. She always accepted him exactly as he was; she’d never once tried to change a single thing about him. Yet as open, honest, and caring as she was, Rory could never shake the feeling that he didn’t know her completely. The mystery of that had always appealed to him. It still did.

  Having started down the path to making amends, the next person on his list was Jake. Thinking about what a dick he’d been to his lifelong friend filled him with self-loathing. The last time they’d spoken was over two years ago. He hoped Jake didn’t tell him to fuck off, but if he did, Rory knew he deserved it.

  Jake was still living in the small house two miles down from Aislinn McCafferty’s farm, which had once belonged to his aunt and uncle. Jake’s older brother Alec was now living there as well. Rory didn’t know how Jake could take it, especially since he and Alec worked together, too. Alec was a good bloke, but he was the most boring person on earth. It wasn’t Alec’s fault, Rory supposed, but that never stopped him and Jake from taking the piss behind his back. “Want to hear about my toolbox?” Alec would drone, and they’d be killing themselves with laughter.

  Rory parked his Range Rover at the end of their drive, more out of guilt than anything else. He earned every penny he made playing for the Blades, and the only real luxury he was allowing himself this summer was the car. He didn’t care what everyone else thought, but there was a part of him that didn’t want to be perceived as shoving his wealth under Jake’s nose.

  Rory started walking up to the house. The shitey old blue truck Alec had owned forever was there, bumping Rory’s car guilt up to a whole new level. He felt better when he spotted the silver Civic on the other side of the drive, glowing metallic in the moonlight. That was new. It had to be Jake’s. Alec wou
ld get by with a horse and trap if he thought he could.

  He could hear Arcade Fire blasting on the other side of the door. He leaned hard on the bell; Jake was a famous one for not hearing a damn thing when he was into his music. Rory let his mind wander for a second, and in that second, the door opened. Jake looked at Rory. Rory looked at Jake. Jake punched him in the nose.

  “Well, there’s that taken care of, then,” Rory joked lamely, grabbing the end of his shirt and pressing it against his nostrils to stem the stream of blood.

  “You look pitiful,” Jake announced. “Get in here.” He looked disgusted as he pulled Rory inside.

  The pain was excruciating. Not his nose. It was the pain of seeing his best friend in the world.

  Jake gestured at the couch in the spartan living room. The place hadn’t changed at all. “Sit down. I’ll get some ice.” He disappeared down the hall.

  Rory turned down the music. His eyes scanned the living room for something, anything, that might be different. He wondered where Alec was, then wondered if he possessed the power of conjuring as Alec came bounding down the steep, carpeted stairs.

  “Jake-o!” His mood was upbeat until he spotted Rory. “What the feck!”

  Rory held up a hand in the hopes of warding him off for a moment. “He knows I’m here. As you can see, he’s already greeted me.”

  “That’s a shame,” Alec sneered. “He should have torn your balls off and fed them to Deenie for dinner.”

  “Go on.” Rory tilted his head back, pressing the tail of his shirt harder against his nose. A thin, metallic-tasting trickle of blood went down his throat. “Give me all you’ve got.” Which isn’t much, you empty-headed sod.

  “I’m surprised Erin’s father hasn’t come round to your gran’s and beat you with a tire iron,” Alec continued.

  “That would require asking his wife for his stones back, so forget that ever happening.”

  “I bet the Trinity would do it for him if he asked.”

  Rory snorted. “The three of them share a single ball. They take turns using it to get off their arses and buy a round.”

 

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