by Kelly, A. S.
He bursts into laughter as he pulls out of his parents’ driveway and into the road.
Oh, God. Not his laugh.
“Rich? Of course. Attractive? Well, that’s obvious…”
“Not to mention cocky,” I add, crossing my arms and looking away.
Luckily, his thoughtless spouts of absolute crap manage to ice over any flame he’d ever ignited in me.
His laugh trails off. With a low, intimate voice, he says suddenly: “Everything I want… No, Casey. I don’t have everything I want.”
His words shiver across my skin. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hide my rebelling senses.
“Something’s missing.”
Another shiver, which infiltrates my skin this time and reaches my bones. I can’t let him have this power over me.
“I’m sure you could easily sort that out.”
“It isn’t something you can buy, or something that just appears when you click your fingers.”
My whole body turns against my mind.
“I’m talking about something I left behind a long time ago.”
“I’m sure you left loads of things behind,” I say, losing patience with his way of speaking, of being, of breathing. The way he’s managed to cling on to the only remaining tendril of our past.
“Well, actually, it’s someone. Someone I really care about, who I want to have back.”
I sit there, frozen, my gaze fixed out the window. I can’t turn around now: I’m scared that his eyes will reveal that he isn’t talking about me – about us. But I’m also terrified that that’s exactly what he’s talking about.
I’m not normal, I know that – especially not when it comes to him.
Jesus, Nick, it’s been eight years. You left me behind, you turned away and never looked back. You never called me, never looked me up. You didn’t care about me or my life. You travelled; you found women, success, fame… The whole world knows the shape of your bum. You had it all: and now you’re telling me that something’s missing?
You’re right, Nick O’Connor. Not even you can have everything you want. And you definitely can’t take back something that was never yours.
16
Nick
I pull over about fifty metres away from her house. “Wait – you still live here?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, it’s just that—”
“We can’t all afford a three-storey villa with a pool, sauna and jacuzzi.”
“I don’t have a villa. I have an apartment.”
“Penthouse with a view?”
“Well…”
She shakes her head, frustrated. “So predictable.” She opens the door and starts to get out.
“Where are you going?”
“We’re here, aren’t we?”
“Your house is over there.”
“I can get out here, too.”
“That makes no sense. Let me drop you in front of your door.”
She looks at me, one eyebrow raised. “Aren’t you scared?”
I swallow nervously. “O-of what?”
She looks at me, enjoying the moment. “You’re stammering again.”
“I’m not scared of your dad.”
“Hmm.”
“Why should I be? He’s not my coach anymore, and you’re not…” I bite down on my tongue, stopping myself from continuing.
Casey sighs: it’s a sigh that takes my breath away, leaving me with an unfamiliar emptiness that feels a lot like sadness.
“You’re right, Nick. I’m not.”
Not even she can finish the sentence, because the truth is that there’s nothing more to it.
She’s not. Full stop.
So why does it hurt so much to say? And why does it hurt even more hearing her say it?
I park in front of her house and she hurriedly opens the passenger door, probably intent on running into the house before her dad sees me and grabs his hunting rifle. And I know that he will. It’s happened before.
I get out of the car too, as Casey heads towards a door to the right of the house that I hadn’t noticed before. But before she can open it, the front door flies open.
Don Madigan is standing there, in all his fury, desperate to wring my neck right there on his doorstep. His arms are crossed and his expression says: I may not have killed you eight years ago, but I can damn well do it now.
It’s like time hasn’t passed for him, except his hair which has grown grey. His physique is still the same, as is his dangerous stare.
“O’Connor,” he greets me, through his teeth.
“Coach Madigan,” I respond, flashing him one of my best smiles.
“I didn’t think you’d ever drag your tanned arse cheeks back to Dublin.”
“They needed some time out of the sun.”
His stare hardens. He’s never been a fan of sarcasm – especially not mine.
“How come he’s here?” he asks his daughter.
“My car wouldn’t start.”
“Again?”
Casey shrugs, embarrassed.
“And he was just waiting around to take you home?”
“He’d just got there.”
“You could’ve called me.”
“It was easier and quicker for me to do it,” I jump in.
“You still here?”
“Excuse me?”
“Are you still standing there in my driveway?”
I look at Casey, confused.
“Do I need to go and get my rifle?”
“What? I was just dropping Casey home!”
“So you said. And you have. You’ve done your duty. Now piss off.”
“Dad…” Casey doesn’t finish her sentence because her dad really does pull out his hunting rifle.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” I say, raising my hands and slowly backing away.
“Do you understand what I’m saying now?”
Coach Madigan doesn’t aim the gun at me, but cradles it in his arms, pointing upwards. Part of me knows that he would never really do it, but the image terrifies the fuck out of me. Apparently, eight years is nothing for him. I’m still just a useless piece of shit hovering around his daughter, whose balls he wants to rip from my body.
“Nick was just leaving,” Casey interjects, taking her dad’s arm and slowly making him put down the rifle.
“I’ll give you three minutes to get off my property,” the coach says, before heading back inside the house; but he doesn’t shut the door. I know he’s there counting down the seconds until he can finally put his plan into action: getting rid of at least one of the O’Connors. I know that I’m top of his list; and not because I’m the oldest.
Casey comes over to me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, before looking at me, clearly uncomfortable. Her dad has always been like this: volatile, loud and imposing. Her family isn’t all that different from mine.
I watch her for a few seconds as she fiddles with the hem of her top. Today, it reads: If you want a perfect girl, go buy a Barbie. I stifle a laugh and decide to shift the attention onto me, to save her the embarrassment.
“I don’t think he enjoys my company too much.”
“You’re not the most popular guy around here, O’Connor.”
“Really…?” I comment, amused. It sounds like a challenge, and I can never resist a challenge. Challenges are my kryptonite, and Casey knows this. She shouldn’t play with fire.
“It might come as a surprise to you, but not everyone likes your stupid face.”
“You used to like it,” I say, lowering the tone of my voice and taking a step towards her.
“Like it? Hardly…”
“That’s not what it seemed like to me.” I take another step.
“You’re getting too close,” she says, but stands her ground. “My dad’ll come back outside any minute and this time I won’t jump to your rescue.”
“Does he have a license for that gun?”
“Do you actually think it
’s a real gun?”
“What?”
“He’s never had a real one – even though he wanted one – but I was against it, so he’s made his peace with a BB gun instead. He’s made the most of it, though: a lot of people fall for it.”
“Are you taking the piss?”
“If I wanted to do that, I’d have let you keep believing it was real.”
“True,” I agree, trying to regain control.
“It’s probably best if you leave now. Those BB pellets hurt, especially if he gets you on the arse. And I’m sure yours is worth…quite a lot,” she says, torn between being embarrassed and amused.
She hasn’t changed one bit; and not just physically.
“What would you know about my arse?”
“I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet who doesn’t know about your arse, O’Connor.”
Well, at least that means she’s been looking at it. And judging by her expression, she liked what she saw.
“I’m not scared of being shot in the arse.”
“That wasn’t what it looked like a few minutes ago.” Another challenge.
Oh, Casey. Don’t do it. Don’t challenge me. I’m better at this game than you.
“I’ll take the risk.”
“Why would you?”
I smile at her, but don’t respond. Better to leave her questioning.
“Have a good evening, Casey,” I say, before turning and heading back to my car. That strange tingling is still running through my veins, and it’s starting to make me euphoric, motivated; like I haven’t felt for a really long time.
The whole drive home, I can’t stop smiling like an idiot. Even when I get in bed, that smile’s still there: and it’s plastered across my face all night long. When I wake up the next day, I wash my face and look in the mirror, and that damn smile is still there, showing me that, even though so much time has passed, and life has taken us our separate ways, some things stay the same.
And there’s nothing that could ever erase them.
17
Casey
“So, how’s it going with the O’Connors?” Martin asks, stirring his coffee.
“We’re making good progress. It’s slow, but I’m hopeful.”
“That’s great.”
“James is cooperating well.”
“That’s so good. The family thought he’d never get better after the accident. It really brought them down.”
“I can imagine.”
“It’s not easy to accept when someone’s ill. He’s the foundations of that family, a strong presence that they always counted on; so to realise now that he’s the one who needs looking after? That was tough on them. Then when he had his fall, it really hit home for them all – they only then started to realise how bad the situation was.”
I sigh, dejected. “I remember him from when I was little, and knowing that now he’s…” I shake my head. “It’s not fair.”
Martin takes my hand and squeezes it affectionately. “Did you know him well?”
“Fairly well, yeah.”
“I don’t really know much about your relationship with that family.”
“My dad was the O’Connor brothers’ rugby coach – he taught all of them.” I smile at the memory. “And, well, I was always getting under their feet. I liked going to the pitch, helping out with training, giving Dad a hand when he needed it. You know, it was a way for us to spend time together. I was his only daughter and he lived and breathed rugby. So I adapted.”
“That must’ve been a nice time.”
“It was – even though Mum wasn’t around. At first, when my parents separated, I used to go back and forward between their houses – it wasn’t the best thing for such a young kid. Then Mum remarried, and Dad requested full custody: it wasn’t an easy battle, from what I remember, but he managed to win the case, and my life started to be a little more stable. Even though he threw himself into his work, I never wanted for anything.”
“Your dad is terrifying.”
I laugh. “I know – his team were all petrified of him. Especially the O’Connors.”
“I would’ve loved to see that,” Martin smirks.
“I’m sure you would…” I say, knowing that Martin would’ve paid to see Ryan in trouble, someone kicking him up the arse. “We were friends – I was friends with everyone on the team. I was like their mascot.”
“And you were particularly friendly with Dickhead Number One?” he asks suggestively.
“I was friendly with all of them,” I say, trying to clear things up.
“But with Nick…?”
“Nick was…Nick,” I smile, despite myself. “You know what he’s like. He was exactly the same back then. A hothead.”
“And that was what you liked so much about him.”
“He made me laugh, he was funny and lively. He was always up to something – and I needed to break a few rules now and then. He was the perfect partner in crime.”
“Interesting…”
“It was such a buzz, doing something stupid. Sometimes, being the only woman in the house was too much. I didn’t want to disappoint my dad, but I also didn’t want to wind up as the female version of him; it was hard to find a balance. But with Nick…” I trail off halfway through my sentence, trying not to let myself drown in the memories.
Martin nods, thoughtfully. “With him, you were simply yourself.”
I smile as I sip at my coffee.
“And you wanted it to be something more.”
“A long time ago, it was. I was young and stupid and Nick was…well, Nick.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Some things never change.”
He’s starting to sound like Mr O’Connor.
“He was your first love, right?”
I sigh sadly, avoiding his gaze.
“Fuck, please don’t say it.”
“What?”
“Was he your only love, too?”
“Jesus, Martin! No! I’m not that desperate. I’ve had other men in my life.”
“I’m not talking about that, Casey. I mean emotionally.”
“Nick and I were never in a relationship.”
“But you were in love with him.”
I stare fixedly at my coffee, avoiding Martin’s gaze.
“And he wasn’t in love with you.”
There you have it. The truth. It still hurts, even after eight years. And it hurts even more hearing it from someone else. Out loud.
“Was he your only love?”
I glance at him. “Nick O’Connor isn’t easy to forget,” I say quietly, almost afraid that I’ll hear my own words.
Because it’s true. You can’t forget Nick O’Connor.
Nick might be an irresponsible dickhead, but he has a softer side, filled with small, kind gestures that are unexpected, but always wonderful. And he makes you laugh; at yourself, at the whole world. He makes you look at life with a lightness that dissipates all your bad days. He makes you feel happy, alive.
Nick O’Connor makes you feel. And after you’ve felt him, you’ll never feel anything like it again.
“But in the end, I did manage to forget him.”
“Are you sure?”
“It took a while, but yeah.”
“But you never fell in love again?”
“It just never happened.”
“You should get out more, meet some exciting men…”
“I do. I’m going out with Luke, remember.”
“Please, let’s not mention him.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not in love with him.”
“We’ve not been seeing each other for long, Martin. These things take time. Maybe it’ll happen one day.”
“There’s no spark between you. No passion.”
“But we have respect, understanding…”
“Jesus, that sucks.”
I laugh, despite Martin’s bullshit.
“And we’re sure that Nick O’Connor has nothing
to do with this?”
“Come on, Martin. It’s been years, and he’d never feel the same way. I’m not that much of a loser.”
“Maybe he did love you back.”
“Who? Nick?” I laugh, shaking my head. “He only has eyes for himself. He loves himself so much that there’s no room left for anyone else – apart from his family.”
“That’s probably true. From what I can see, all the O’Connor brothers have the same problem – until they meet the right person.”
“I don’t think it’ll work like that for Nick. He’s always been different from his brothers. He’ll never grow up.”
“No one thought Ryan would ever grow up, until he met Chris…”
“Ryan always had a big heart, so did Ian. I knew that behind their tough-guy exteriors were two men with a lot to give. Nick doesn’t have an exterior, though: he’s exactly what you see. The only good thing about Nick O’Connor is that he can’t lie.”
“I’d like to believe you, Casey, but I can feel the sadness in your words. It could start to drag you down.”
“Not as much as you do,” I say, winding him up.
“Touché,” he says, before carrying on. “Of course…”
“What?”
“To be honest, I get you. That beautiful tanned arse isn’t easy to forget.”
“Martin…”
“Just wanted to show my appreciation.”
“I think the entire world has shown their appreciation for Nick O’Connor’s arse.”
“In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen arse cheeks so perfect and—”
“Can we change the subject now? Thinking about his bum is not helping me right now.”
“It’s not helping me either, I’m just about to go on shift. Let’s talk about the surgeon instead,” he says, nodding behind him, where Luke is sitting at one of the hospital cafeteria’s tables with his colleagues. “He dulls down all of my fantasies.”
“Well, I like him,” I say, less convincingly than I’d hoped.
“Do you also like the fact he ignores you when you’re both at work?”
“He doesn’t ignore me, it’s just—”
“That he’s a surgeon and you’re just a physio?”