The Storm

by R. J. Prescott

  “What if your Mum see us?” she whispered.

  “If she didn’t, I’m pretty sure the neighbours will fill her in tomorrow.”

  “Great,” she groaned, burying her face in my neck with embarrassment. “Some great first impression I’ll make.”

  “Irish, I’m pretty sure you could tell her you were a convicted criminal and she’d still love you.” Reluctantly, I set her down but kept a gentle hold on her waist when she seemed unsteady on her feet.

  “Why?” she asked, seeming confused.

  I stared at her for a beat before replying, “What’s not to love?” A blush spread from her neck to her cheeks as she smiled shyly. I wanted to tell her that it was because I loved her, but it was too soon. Six months ago, I would have called myself a pussy. But six months ago I didn’t have Irish. Now I knew what I wanted, and I wasn’t letting her go. She was it for me, and I thought Ma knew that too.

  “For goodness sake, boyo, put the girl down and let me get a look at her,” Ma said, as she barrelled down the hallway, probably fed up of waiting for me to bring her in. I rolled my eyes but moved from blocking Ma’s view and stood beside Irish. Unable to keep my hands off her, I snaked an arm around her waist and pulled until she tucked herself gently into my side. Ma stopped in front of her and raised her hands to her cheeks.

  “Oh, you two are going to make me beautiful grandbabies!” Ma exclaimed.

  “Ma! I thought we agreed you were gonna cool down the crazy,” I said. Knowing Irish said she couldn’t have kids, I worried that Ma had upset her, but she looked more amused, and maybe a bit bewildered, than anything else.

  “Yes. Sorry. No more acting weird, I promise. But you are so beautiful!” Ma exclaimed. I rolled my eyes again, but kissed the top of her head affectionately. She was totally nuts, but she was my ma.

  “Thank you, Mrs Doherty. It’s lovely to meet you,” Irish said nervously.

  “Enough with the ‘Mrs Doherty’ as well. Call me Kathleen. Now, how do you feel about lasagne?” she asked. Pulling Irish away from me, she led her to the kitchen. Shutting the front door behind me, I followed, grinning all the way.

  ***

  I eyed up the lasagne and wondered if I could get away with another helping. Mourning the loss of my usual portion, I knew Danny would pitch a bitch fit if he knew what I’d eaten already. I had a diet plan that I stuck to rigidly usually, but no way was I going to turn down Ma’s food tonight. She’d been nervous enough as it was without me asking her to cook something different for me.

  My girl was all lit up as she chatted to Ma about her dressmaking business. Knowing that Irish designed wedding dresses just added fuel to Ma’s fire. If she looked at me and winked one more time, Irish was gonna think she had some kind of nervous tic.

  “And how do you feel about children?” Ma asked Irish, out of the blue.

  “For fuck’s sake, Ma!” I snapped.

  “Watch your language, Kieran Joseph Doherty,” she replied, clearing the plates and stacking them up. Shit, every kid knew they were in trouble when their ma pulled out the middle name.

  “You’re gonna scare her away with your crazy,” I whispered loudly.

  “It’s okay, Kier, honestly,” Irish reassured me, before she looked despairingly at Ma.

  “The truth is, Kathleen, I love kids. I’m from a big family, and I always wanted one myself, but I can’t have children. I have a congenital heart defect and the strain of pregnancy would be too much for my body,” she explained. I knew Ma’s thoughts would jump straight to Da when she found out, and I wanted her to get to know Irish so she’d understand how I felt, but she had to push.

  “I’m glad you told me, and I’m sorry that I was so pushy. But if there’s anything I know, it’s that there’s no shortage of little souls in this world looking for someone to love them. Children don’t care any less because you didn’t birth them. If anything, they care more because they know you chose to love them. So, if you want a big family, you can adopt. I never had one son, I had four. The fact that I only gave birth to one of them didn’t make them any less my kids.”

  I could see Irish’s eyes well up. I wanted to say something, but I had no words.

  “You’re a very special woman, Mrs Doherty,” Irish whispered.

  “What did I say about calling me Kathleen?” Ma scolded gently. “Now, why don’t you go and freshen up while I domesticate my son some more by getting him to clean up these dishes. The bathroom is upstairs. First door to your left.”

  Irish smiled broadly at her and left the table. As soon as she was out of earshot, Ma turned to me.

  “Now, why did I have to hear that from Marie and not you? I would have kept my big trap shut if you’d given me some warning,” she admonished.

  “I looked up more about her condition on the Internet. Her projected lifespan isn’t the same for most people. I know what you went through with Dad, and I didn’t want you worrying over me and Irish, or trying to talk me out of making a life with her,” I admitted, not catching her eye as I gathered up all the plates and carried them to the sink. There was always going to be a part of me that worried about losing her. Ma had survived Da’s death, but I wasn’t that strong. Losing Irish now would break me, unconditionally.

  “Oh, Kieran, you silly boy. All I want for you is to find what I had. It doesn’t matter whether it’s for a few years or a lifetime. Nothing perfect lasts forever. But what your father gave me was a gift I wouldn’t give back for all the world. It changes you in a way I can’t begin to explain. The worst pain wouldn’t be losing someone. It would be forgetting the way their love consumed you. I will live the rest of my life knowing that, of every woman on this earth, your father chose me. He loved me with his dying breath, and somewhere else he loves me still. How could I want anything less for you?”

  I’d seen Ma broken in her grief for Da. Never in a million years could I have predicted that this was how she felt. She was the strongest and wisest person I knew. I couldn’t comprehend how experiencing such terrible pain would still leave her capable of feeling such unconditional love.

  “Thanks, Ma. I had no idea you felt like this. I will never understand how a woman’s mind works,” I replied, feeling slightly choked up.

  “You’re not meant to understand us, love. Just thank your lucky stars for the complicated and wonderful beings that we are. Love is a gift. Always be thankful for it and you can’t go far wrong.” She patted my cheek indulgently as Irish walked back in. “So what are you kids up to tonight then?” she asked.

  “Friday night at Seamus O’Donnell’s,” I said, rubbing my hands together, as though it was self-explanatory.

  “What does that mean?” Irish asked, her face scrunched up in confusion.

  “Karaoke!” I replied.

  ***

  I walked behind her as we made our way to the back of the packed pub. More than one pair of appreciative male eyes roamed over my girl, until they saw my scowl and turned hastily away. O’Connell smirked at me from where he was slumped in his seat, like he knew what I was thinking. Irish kissed me, then went over to join Em and the other girls, so I pulled out the seat next to him.

  “How do you fucking deal with it?” I asked him.

  “Deal with what?”

  “This feeling like everyone is out to steal your girl away. I’ve never had a quick temper, but I swear to God, five minutes in this place and I wanna knock out every fucker that even looks at her,” I explained, making him chuckle.

  “Most of the time, I don’t deal with it. Anyone disrespects her and I’ll be up in their face so fast, they won’t have time to shit their pants. But Em explained to me once that I shouldn’t get upset with other people for admiring what we have and wanting it for themselves. So, as long as they’re only looking, I let ’em keep their teeth. ’Course it helps that she only has eyes for me.”

  Irish looked for me over her shoulder, smiling when our eyes met. As she turned back to chat to Em, I grinned wider, knowing just what he me
ant.

  “What does Marie think about the fight?” he asked me.

  “I only told her last night. I think she’s nervous, but she didn’t say much. She’s never seen me fight before, so she has no idea what to expect. I want to show her what I can do, but I don’t want to scare her.”

  “A fighter is who ya’ are, Kier. You can’t hide that any more than I can. She’ll either accept it, or she won’t.”

  “I could go back to what I was doing before though. You know, just stick with the training.”

  “Fighters don’t stop being fighters. They just take off the gloves,” he said, taking a sip of his pint. I knew he was right. I had boxed my entire life, not because I had to, but because it gave me a high like nothing else. It was a sport I loved. I’d give it up for Irish, but I wanted to know that she wouldn’t expect me to, that she could accept all of me. To know that when I went into that ring, that she’d be with me all the way.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked. “Because if ya’ head ain’t in the game, you tell me now. I’ve seen this guy fight before. He’s a nasty fucker that won’t give you an inch. He smells weakness on you and he’s gonna fuck with your head before you even throw the first punch.”

  I thought carefully before answering. It was something I’d been thinking about for a long time now, wondering if I had it in me to do what Con did. I might not have his wild temper or his sixth sense for gaps in his opponent’s game, but I had a clarity of vision. I never lost my temper or allowed myself to be goaded into fighting another man’s fight. It was why Con and I made such good training partners. In the ring, I was the calm to his storm.

  “I’ve got this, Con. I’m in the best shape of my life, and I’m ready for this fight. I’ve seen him too, and I know I can beat this guy. I just don’t know if I’ll want it forever like you do.”

  “Well, boyo, a few more weeks and we’ll find out. In the meantime, I’d make the most of ya’ last night out if I were you. From tomorrow, you’re training is gonna be on a whole other level. If you have the energy for anything other than eating and falling straight into bed when we’re done with you, then we ain’t doing it right.

  “Fan-fucking-tastic,” I replied sarcastically. I eyed up his pint enviously and felt tired at the thought of what they were going to put me through. Then I watched my girl walk gracefully up the steps of the stage, and suddenly I was wide awake.

  Chapter Twelve

  Marie

  I wiped my hand nervously against my jeans as I gripped the microphone with the other. Already, I was regretting my stupid decision to allow Em to dare and goad me into doing this. It was supposed to be her turn at karaoke, but here I stood. When the opening bars to Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good” played, I gave a small sigh of relief. At least I knew this song. Now all I had to do was pretend that the eyes of the whole pub weren’t on me, waiting for me to mess up.

  I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath against the nerves. When my voice sang out, it was true and clear, giving away little of the trepidation I felt at singing in front of such a large audience. My gaze found Kieran’s across the room and it calmed me. Somehow it felt easier to pretend I was singing just for him rather than everyone else.

  When it was over, you could hear a pin drop. Then Kieran stood up and applauded and the whole pub erupted, wolf whistling and shouting “encore.” I might not be able to dance, but I knew I had a set of pipes. I just didn’t have the balls to use them all that often.

  “That was amazing!” Kieran said, hauling me into his arms when I walked down the steps of the stage. “I had no idea you could sing like that!”

  “You’re one to talk. You sang live with a band not too long ago,” I reminded him, happy that I hadn’t made a fool of myself.

  “Aw, Irish, I can hold a tune, but that was something else,” he replied, capturing my lips in a sweet kiss.

  “Nice work, darlin’,” Con told me.

  “Thanks, O’Connell. Are you singing tonight?” I asked curiously.

  “I don’t sing,” he replied.

  “That’s a step up from the ‘fuck off’ you gave me when I asked,” Tommy said. “Em must be teaching you some manners.”

  “Fuck off,” Con replied, making me smile. Tommy and Albie’s names were called next, but Liam didn’t move from his seat in the corner. Instead, he took a long sip of his pint and watched Albie possessively.

  “You aren’t joining them?” I asked him.

  “I don’t sing either,” he replied.

  Heath sat by his side. He was nowhere near as quiet as Liam or as sullen as Con, but he wasn’t quite the extrovert that Tommy was either. I suspect that Albie was more of an innocent bystander, caught between them all. Despite their differences, they all looked happy, this eclectic band of brothers that was Kieran’s family. It warmed me to think that they would always have his back. No matter what happened to me in the future, they would be here for him.

  Following Em’s lead as she sat down on Con’s lap, I let Kieran pull me down and cuddled into his side. When I traced the tip of my finger down his tattoo, he shivered.

  “Ticklish?” I whispered.

  “That’s not tickling. It’s foreplay,” he answered quietly, so only I could hear. Tommy and Albie were belting out the lyrics to Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now.” They had all the right notes, just not necessarily in the right order. The pub loved their enthusiastic rendition though.

  Kieran was looking their way but didn’t seem to be paying them any attention. His hand was on my leg, and his thumb was slowly tracing a pattern on the inside of my thigh. My skirt wasn’t short, but he’d found the small patch of exposed skin and used it to teach me that my body had erogenous zones in places I’d never dreamt of. I swore, if he bent down to kiss the patch of flesh he’d been stroking, I’d have come then and there. To anyone looking on, there was nothing erotic in what he was doing. We were just like any young couple, sitting together and enjoying the entertainment. But in reality, we were inside our own bubble, one where Kieran was slowly seducing me, tearing down my walls, making me hotter with each stroke.

  I didn’t know how much more I could take, but his touch was addictive. I wanted to change positions to ease the ache building inside me, but his hand held me firmly. The callouses on his hands only sensitised each stroke. I squeezed his arm, warning him to stop, but that only made him chuckle. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. Playing him at his own game, I carried on tracing my finger down the length of his tattoo. Knowing that only he would hear me, I moaned gently into his ear.

  “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he adjusted his tightening jeans. “Come with me,” he whispered in my ear before abruptly standing up and pulling me towards the back of the club. Walking down the corridor to the toilets, he took a sharp left and started climbing a flight of stairs, clearly marked “Private.” I followed him through two more doors before he tugged me into a large, empty room with a stage at the back.

  “What is this place?” I asked.

  “It’s a private room the landlord’s hire out for functions.” He pushed my jacket off my shoulders, dropping it to the floor. The air rushed from my lungs as he speared his hand into my hair, pulling my lips against his. What we were doing was too explosive to be called just a kiss. It was like he feasted on me, drawing every moan and breath into his mouth and making it his own. It was wild and tempestuous, and I wanted more. I wanted so much more. I wanted him buried so deep inside me that I would feel the echo of his lovemaking for weeks.

  “I didn’t think you were allowed to do this,” I gasped, as he used his free hand to cup my arse. Heat pooled at my core as he slid his calloused hand down the length of my thigh and wrapped my leg around his hip.

  “I’m bending the rules a little, love, not breaking them,” he replied between kisses. His hand left my hair and he slipped it under my top instead. When his thumb brushed over my beaded nipple, I couldn’t help but throw my head back and close my eyes in pleasure. Despe
rate to find some relief, I rocked my hips against the bulge of his erection, making him groan. I wanted him to feel as on fire as I did.

  “Sorry, baby, you do that once more, and I won’t last,” he said. Before I could even register what he was doing, he’d dropped down on one knee, lifting my leg over his shoulder.

  “Kier, what are you doing? Anyone could come in and… Holy Shit!” I exclaimed. Without even stripping off my panties, he moved them aside to touch me with his tongue.

  “Kieran,” I begged without knowing what for. I teetered on the edge of orgasm, knowing that I couldn’t take this exquisite torture much longer. When he slipped his calloused finger inside me, not missing a beat with his tongue, I was lost. Stars exploded behind my eyes as I threw myself head first into the abyss.

  By sheer force of will, I stopped myself from sliding down the wall. Easing my underwear back into place, Kieran ran a gentle hand down the back of one thigh, while kissing his way up the other. When I finally gained some composure, he rested his forehead against my midriff as he tried to regain his. I slid my fingers through his hair slowly, and the moment was intimately tender.

  “Let’s do that again,” he said finally, making me laugh.

  “Next time, I’ll go down on my knees,” I said.

  “Can we talk about something that doesn’t make me think of your lips around my cock?” His groan made me giggle again.

  “Is it worth it?” I asked him curiously, thinking of all the sacrifices he’d made for this fight.

  “It’s worth it,” he replied with certainty. “Knowing that you’ll be there at the end of it as well is everything. Just a few more weeks, and all of you will be mine.”