Ryan (O'Connor Brothers Book 2)
Page 15
I head back to my life, pretending that nothing ever happened. This time, pretending to myself will be the hardest of all.
36
Ryan
I pull up outside my parents’ house at two on the dot. Right on time for the chores my father has inflicted on me. Today, training was light: just two hours, preparing for Sunday’s game.
I get out of the car and Mum opens the door.
“Hi, darling,” she says, hugging me and giving me a kiss on the cheek.
“I’m here for my grounding,” I announce, stepping inside. “Is that ars…er, is Nick here yet?”
“He’s out in the garden.”
“Where’s Dad?”
“Your dad isn’t feeling great today. He’s upstairs, resting.”
I nod, clenching my jaw.
“I told Nick that…he won’t even remember he asked you to come. But Nick insisted on staying.”
I walk through the kitchen and out into the garden through the back door, followed by Mum.
“If you want to go home, I imagine you’ve got things to…”
“I don’t have anything to do.”
“Do you want me to get you anything? Have you eaten?”
“No thanks, Mum. I’m fine.”
“Maybe a coffee…?”
“Okay, a coffee would be great.”
Mum smiles and goes back inside, while I prepare myself for a whole afternoon with the dickhead.
“What the hell are you doing up there?” I ask his feet, from under the ladder leaning against the wall.
“What do you think?” Nick’s head pokes out from the gutter.
“Couldn’t you have waited for me?”
“I didn’t know you were coming.”
“We’re both grounded.”
It feels like we’ve already had this conversation – loads of times, to be honest. I feel like we’ve gone back in time.
“It was your fault.”
“If you’d kept your mouth shut…”
“If you behaved like a normal person and not a mad stalker…”
I grab the ladder with both hands and shake it. Nick grips the handles, shocked.
“What the fuck, Ryan?!”
“Try that one more time and I’ll slam you to the ground.”
“Easy to be all tough when you’re at the bottom of the ladder.”
“Pure coincidence.”
“Let go.”
“I don’t think so, this is my only enjoyment for today.”
“Here’s your coffee, Ryan,” Mum joins us. “I’ll leave it on the table for you.”
“Thanks.”
She looks at me, then looks at Nick hanging from the ladder.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m holding the ladder for Nick. I don’t want him to hurt himself.”
“Mmm.”
“It’s true.”
“That’s not true, he’s trying to kill me.”
“Again, Ryan?”
“W-what?” I ask, panicked.
“Did you think I didn’t know?”
Damn Ian.
“Maybe it isn’t the best idea for you two to be out here alone.”
“Come on, Mum. We’re adults. You can leave us to play in the garden, I promise we won’t tear each other apart.”
“Adults?”
She’s laughing. Seriously. My mother is laughing in my face. “I didn’t know you were so funny.”
Is she taking the piss out of me?
“I’ll be inside, but I can hear you – and I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” she threatens, before disappearing indoors.
“I didn’t tell her,” Nick immediately gets defensive.
“I know.”
Nick would never have told her.
“Why did you stay?” I ask him, looking up.
“The gutters needed cleaning.” He steps slowly down the ladder and stops when we’re face to face. “Dad can’t do it by himself.”
“I wonder how long he’ll be able to do anything by himself.”
“I think we have quite enough to worry about already, don’t you?”
“Mmm?”
“Me and you.”
“Nick, now’s not the time.”
“It’s never the time for you.”
“We’re here together, aren’t we?”
“And you just tried to push me off a ladder.”
“Don’t exaggerate, I was only joking.”
“You’re not the sort of person to joke around.”
“Depends on the moment.”
“So, what do you say? Shall we get to work? There are dirty windows upstairs with our names on.”
“Shit.”
“Just be grateful he didn’t ask us to do the garage, too.”
“He definitely will next time.”
Mum insisted that we stay for dinner. Something quick, she said, because Dad needs her help today.
We sit down in the kitchen, me and Nick, while she takes something upstairs for Dad. I open a beer and take a few sips, as Nick chews on his sandwich. I gather up my courage and start to speak.
“I need a favour.”
He looks at me, surprised, placing his sandwich back on the plate.
“A favour from me? Seriously?”
I shrug.
“I’m listening…”
“Are you coming to the game on Sunday?”
“What a stupid question. Obviously I am. Why?”
“I need you to take someone with you.”
“A woman?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say, taking a few more sips of beer to mask the idea that I could also have invited her. But that would never happen.
“A boy.”
He looks at me, one eyebrow raised.
“Evan,” I continue, gauging his reaction. “Christine’s son.”
“Oh holy…”
“Don’t say a word.”
“I didn’t.”
“You were about to.”
“You don’t know what I was about to say.”
“I just need you to take him with you, sit with him, then take him home again. End of story.”
“How old is this kid?”
“Sixteen, I think…”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with a sixteen-year-old?”
“I don’t know, Nick. It’s just a match. Take him to the stadium, buy him some sweets, I don’t know…”
Nick bursts out laughing. “Sweets? Are you serious?”
“Will you do it or not?”
“That depends…”
“On what?”
“On why you’ve invited him in the first place.”
“There’s no fucking reason.”
“I think the reason might be his mother.”
“Fuck off, Nick! I knew I shouldn’t have asked you. You’re always the same…”
“Hey, calm down, okay? I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it, I just wanted to know the situation.”
“There isn’t a situation.”
“So that must be why you just happened to invited her son to watch you play?”
“He’s never been to a match before. The other night at dinner, he told me that…”
“Woah, woah, woah. Dinner?”
Fuck.
“I had dinner at theirs.”
Nick crosses his arms and looks at me, waiting for me to go on.
“I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“Not to me you don’t. But be careful, Ryan.”
“God, Nick. Why do you always have to do this?”
“Because I know you.”
“Maybe not as well as you think.”
“Let’s see…she’s thirty-two.”
“How the fuck do you know that?” I say, jumping up immediately.
“I talk to people, nicely. I don’t chase them into toilets.”
“This again? Seriously?”
“She has a sixteen-year-old son, and probably an ex who broke her heart, who she
will always compare you to because, whether or not he’s a bastard, he’s the father of her son and she hasn’t forgotten. She runs a business, she’s a busy woman, but she knows what she really wants. And what she wants is not a spoilt little boy with a tendency to treat her like shit.”
“Do you want to tell me what the fuck any of this has to do with the fact that I’ve invited her son to a stupid match?”
“Nothing, Ryan. Absolutely nothing,” he says, before picking his sandwich back up.
I hate him.
“I’ll take him,” he says, as if he hadn’t just loaded all this pressure onto me. “Give me the address.”
37
Ryan
I lace up my boots and throw a hoodie on over my jersey, ready to follow the team out onto the field and sit my arse down on that bench.
Ian and Jamie are hyped up, always prepared – they’re always played from the first minute. Well, I guess Jamie is the captain and Ian is definitely the best in our family, no doubt about it. Apart from all the bullshit he went through when he thought he’d lost Riley – when he was booted off the team for a few run-ins – he’s never strayed from the rails. No warnings, no slip-ups.
The perfect player, the perfect brother, the perfect son. And now, apparently, the perfect man, too.
I wonder if he has a weakness, an Achilles heel – something that makes him lose his mind.
Ah, yeah. One. Always the same: his woman. And soon, with the baby on the way, things are going to be really tough for him. It almost makes me want to gloat, to finally see him as a human being, see him crumble and give way – but I’m not that much of a bastard. Not even me.
I catch up to them just as the coach is walking over.
“O’Connor!”
Both me and Ian tense up, waiting.
“The dickhead.”
His clarification doesn’t help.
“Little Ryan,” he scoffs.
Little Ryan.
I see Nick’s managed to get to him, too. Another reason to hate him.
“You’re on. First minute.”
“What?”
“What didn’t you understand? It’s a simple sentence, even Scott would get it.”
“No, it’s just that I…”
“My God, you’re all as bad as each other. Who the fuck has landed me with this team?”
The coach walks off, yelling his way through the changing rooms.
“Big day for little Ryan,” Jamie says, winding me up.
“A huge day,” Ian adds. It’s fine. I’m not nervous.
“Try not to fuck it up,” Jamie continues. “I’m keeping an eye on you.”
“Come on, Jamie, let’s not put any more pressure on him – can’t you see he’s about to pass out?”
“What? Me? I’m fine.”
They both burst into fits of laughter.
“Sure, Ryan, sure. You’re great,” and they both walk off, chuckling to themselves.
Apparently two arsehole brothers weren’t enough – now I have our team captain, Ian’s soon-to-be-brother-in-law, too.
My life just gets better and better.
I take a deep breath and decide to follow them, trying to clear my mind for the next ninety minutes and do the best I can. That’s what I’ve been called up to do, and it’s what everyone’s expecting from me.
We jog back into the changing rooms after the match, shouting and jumping around like monkeys, high as kites. Saying I’m excited would be a euphemism. I’m ecstatic, proud…I’m happy. I feel it again after so long, and for the right reasons.
Sport: that’s what I really needed. Just rugby. Ian was right, maybe I should’ve listened to him before – but better late than never.
“Ah, little Ryan,” Jamie leaps onto my back. “You gave us a hard time, but it was all worth it in the end.”
“Oh, fuck off, Jamie.”
“You wish…” he says, poking fun at me.
I shake him off, pretending to be annoyed, when I immediately feel someone else jump onto me.
“Fuck, Ryan! That’s how you play!” Ian thumps my back enthusiastically. “There’s nothing better than winning next to your brother.”
“Oh, leave it!”
“I’m emotional. I’m fucking proud of you! Seriously. I knew that sooner or later you’d do something great. All those training sessions in the garden have finally paid off!”
“Hey, don’t take credit for things you don’t deserve,” I say, even though Ian’s right about everything.
If it weren’t for him, I’d have quit years ago. If he hadn’t listened to me, encouraged me, sometimes taken a few blows for me. If he hadn’t been secretly training me, giving me advice. If he hadn’t given me all the support I needed, I wouldn’t be here now.
“Hey, hey…”
His voice immediately darkens my mood.
“Little Ryan, you’re full of surprises!”
I turn around, ready to tell him where to shove it, when I see Evan beside him.
“Oh…er…hi,” I say.
I was so happy I almost forgot he’d come.
“Wow, Ryan! I didn’t know what I was missing.” Apparently, Evan’s as excited as we are. “You’re all…you’re just…wow!”
I give him a small smile.
“It was wicked, mate. Really.”
“This boy had never been to a match,” Nick says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He doesn’t even know the rules, for fuck’s sake. We have to fix that.”
“Don’t get too carried away…wait, what the hell are you doing in the changing rooms?”
Nick laughs smugly. “I’m everywhere.”
“Please!”
“Besides, Evan couldn’t miss the rest. Just seeing the match isn’t enough – he has to live the moment, know what goes on in the changing rooms! He needs to feel part of something.”
“Are you trying to convince him?”
“Me? Nah, he’ll convince himself. You’ll see,” he says, ruffling his hair. “Come on, Evan, I’ll take you home.”
“I’ll take him,” I say suddenly. “Just give me twenty minutes.”
Nick studies my expression.
“It’s no problem,” I add. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”
“Mmm.”
“I’m just going to go and have a shower. Bring him to the back gates, my car’s parked there.”
“Mmm.”
“Have you forgotten how to speak? Or can you only communicate in noises now?”
He lifts his hands.
“Oh wow, now gestures, too…”
Nick flashes me his middle finger before flinging an arm around Evan and leading him away.
Those two could almost be twins.
I shake my head, trying to get rid of that horrendous thought, as Ian comes over to me.
“You’re taking him home.”
I shrug.
“Chris’ son.”
“Fuck off,” I say through my teeth.
Ian sighs. “No more bullshit, okay? I like that café.”
“Me?”
He snorts derisively and lets me go. I head towards the showers, wash myself, and then quickly get dressed, both eager and nervous to go back there, to her house. Because after today, that match, these emotions…I just want to see her. And I don’t even want to ask myself why.
38
Chris
“So, what’s all this about rugby?” Martin asks as he helps me unload the shopping.
“It was just a match. Evan wanted to go.”
“How come?”
“They invited him,” I reply vaguely.
“Who did?”
“A…friend.”
“His friend or your friend?”
“Does it really matter?”
“It really does.”
I scoff and lean against the counter. Martin called this afternoon because he had a few hours to kill, and he wanted to take Evan somewhere. As usual, Evan didn’t respond, so Martin had to use me. They have a
good relationship, but Evan hates being treated like a little boy, being taken to stupid places filled with divorced dads and their sons. Most of the time, he pretends he never heard his phone go off when Martin calls.
“So…?”
“There’s nothing to say, Martin. A friend of both of ours, who plays rugby, asked him if he wanted to go and watch a game, and he accepted. End of story.”
“Why should I believe you?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“You can believe whatever you want.”
“That’s true.”
“It’s nothing, honestly. He’s a friend, that’s all.”
“If that’s all, why are you going so red?”
Martin’s way too observant for me and my stupid games.
“I’m not going red,” I attempt.
“You don’t want to talk about it because you think I hate the thought of another man being around the house – right?”
“There’s no other man in the house!” I cry, overly convinced.
“But there could be…”
“No!” I stop him right away. “And if there were, it wouldn’t be him.”
“Him.”
“Anyway, even if there were, it’s none of your business.”
“It’s not the guy from the other night?”
“What? Absolutely not!”
“Okay, so it is him.”
Shit.
“No, Chris, I mean…Have you seen him? Fuck, honey. That guy is…how do I put it…?”
“Leave it.”
“Is it serious?”
“It’s nothing, Martin.”
“It doesn’t seem like it.”
“Just stop, okay?”
“Have you slept with him?”
“Martin!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you think I would have?”
“Well, I’m normally spared the details of your sex life, so…”
“There’s nothing to tell you.”
“Mmm.”
“Can you stop with the mmm? You’re getting on my nerves.”
“Can I tell you what I think?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”
“You’re not telling me anything because, whatever it is, it’s not like the other times.”