It was colder out here than it’d been in the city and there was a thin sheen of frost covering the walkway up to my mom’s house. Even though everything was still and quiet outside, I knew my mam would be awake at the kitchen table with a pot of tea and the newspaper.
“Hello?” I called out, my voice barely above a whisper, as I entered the house via the side entrance.
My mam gasped in happy surprise when she saw my head poking through the door. “Declan!”
She tightened the belt on her robe and pulled me into the house. Colleen O’Shaughnessy wasn’t a dainty woman so when she squeezed me tight, I grimaced from the pain in my ribs.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, looking me over with assessing eyes.
“No more than usual; just some bruises. I’ll be fine in a day or two.”
Pushing her concern aside, I lowered my aching body into a chair at the kitchen table.
“What brings you home, and at this hour?”
Honestly, I wasn’t sure why I’d come so I just shrugged and smiled at her.
“Well, whatever it is, I’m happy to have you,” she said.
It might sound corny, but I was pleased my mom was so happy to see me. Very rarely did we spend time together that wasn’t predicated on me doing something for her. But then the happiness faded when she reminded me why I generally stayed away.
“You can hang the Christmas lights and help your sister pull down all the decorations from the attic.”
I love my mom, I love my mom, I love my mom, I chanted, trying to remember why that was.
I pointed to my side. “Hurt, remember?” Sometimes I wondered why I even bothered, oblivious as she could be at time. “Maybe next weekend, yeah?”
“What about Cian? Can you call him to come help?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m uh … not sure Cian’s available.”
I glanced at the red vintage clock ticking away above the stove. Whether he was still pissed at me or not, it was way too early to text him regardless. “Besides, he’s probably still sleeping.”
She huffed, an offended sound, and busied herself at the counter.
“What can I get you for breakfast then?” she asked with a long-suffering sigh as she pulled a packet of rashers from the fridge.
“Some bacon sounds terrific,” I said, rising.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Just going to drop my things off since I’m staying the night.”
“And to what do I owe this great pleasure?” she asked.
“Can’t a boy come home to visit his mam?” I replied as I reached the stairwell up to my room.
“You can, but it’s not like you,” I heard her answer as I made my way upstairs.
And I wonder why that is Colleen, I thought uncharitably.
I loved my mom, really I did, but sometimes I wondered how she managed to function when I was gone. No doubt Aoife took the brunt of her demands. Maybe it was time to talk about getting my baby sister her own apartment.
Feeling restless, I wondered if it was too early to head over to Fitzgeralds. Colm and Maureen would be up, but I knew it would be rude to show up on their doorstep at this hour. Shit. That meant a few more hours of catching my mam up on the things I was willing to discuss and dodging questions about those I wasn’t.
“You’re going to spoil me,” I called out, descending the stairs to the smell of greasy bacon, eggs, and strong coffee.
She wouldn’t drink the stuff, preferring a strong pot of tea, but Aoife and I were addicted.
“Oh, it’s you,” Aoife muttered from behind a large, steaming mug clenched in front of her face.
Still in her pajamas, her pink hair standing on end and her eyes caked in thick, black makeup, she looked like she’d had a rough night.
“That’s no way to greet your brother,” our mother scolded.
“Oh that’s right, one must always bow and scrape when the prodigal son returns,” she muttered so only I would hear.
As I took my seat, I ruffled the rat’s nest on her head in affection, wincing slightly for the effort. She caught the grimace and gave me a look that indicated I only had myself to blame for the pain.
Taking in her bedraggled appearance, I asked, “Late night?”
She stared into her coffee and murmured unintelligibly under her breath.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. What were you saying?”
“Oh, don’t mind her,” mam said, setting a couple of plates on the table. “She’s just mad because I made her come home last night instead of staying in the city with that no good Tanya.”
Aoife’s head shot up and her eyes caught mine. Tanya was nothing but trouble and she knew I knew exactly how much.
Tanya O’Reilly was a few years older than Aoife, closer actually to my age, so I was surprised to hear they were hanging out. The problem was Tanya was considered an easy lay. While other women tried to trap the lads into marriage with claims of fake pregnancies, Tanya wanted nothing to do with relationships. All she wanted to do was screw. In that way, she was basically an honorary member of the team. I’d never been with her, but Aidan had and we’d razzed him for days afterward. If Aoife was hanging out with her, I was afraid she’d develop a similar reputation.
“And how long have you been friends with the notorious Tanya O’Reilly?”
“I’ve known her all my life,” Aoife responded with a smirk, as if she was being clever.
“That’s not what I asked and you know it.”
She shrugged. “It’s not really any of your business.”
“It is when Tanya spends quite a lot of time with my mates, if you catch my meaning.”
I leveled a stare at Aoife and dragged my eyes to our mam so my sister would know I was trying to keep good old Colleen from understanding my meaning.
Apparently, I needn’t have bothered.
“You don’t have to talk in riddles, Declan,” she said. “I know all about what that Tanya gets up to in her free time. Everyone knows what Tanya does with your teammates. It is only your teammates, yes?”
That she felt she had to ask made me queasy. A guy had to have some standards!
“Yeah, Declan. You’re one to talk.” Aoife clucked as she sat across from me, dropping her chin in her hand and staring. “I’d wager you’re even worse.”
“This is not the time or place to talk about that. Our mam is present, for chrissakes, Aoife. Show some respect.”
I was no prude but some things you just did not discuss in front of your mother. Your sex life being at the very top of the list.
“Oh please,” Aoife scoffed. “Like we don’t know what you get up to in Dublin. You’re famous for—”
“—Don’t you dare!” I warned, leaning forward and clamping my hand over her mouth.
She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrow in challenge, her meaning clear. If I said another word about Tanya, Aoife would start in on my own misdeeds. It was bad enough mam already knew I slept around. Who knew what she’d say if Aoife filled her in on the other, more salacious rumors about me?
“Fine. I won’t lecture you about who you spend time with,” I conceded.
She smiled smugly, having won this particular battle.
“I will tell you to be careful though. I don’t want you getting into a situation you can’t handle.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” she answered defiantly, her chin raised and ire sparking in her eyes.
I studied her for a moment. Objectively speaking, Aoife was a beautiful girl. A little quirky perhaps, but that wouldn’t stop guys from coming at her full force. It might even encourage them.
“And yet I do,” I replied, pushing the sickening thoughts aside.
Aoife was 21 years old. I needed to stop thinking of her with pigtails and scabbed knees. I’d always do my best to protect her, but I had to let her be an adult too. I knew that. And yet …
“In case you were wondering, though, I’m a virgin.”
&n
bsp; My jaw fell to the floor and she smirked, thrilled to have shocked me, before she stood and skipped out of the room, the sound of her cackling reaching my ears.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” my mam whispered as she followed Aoife. “You two are going to send me to my grave.”
If Aoife wasn’t having sex, why in the motherfucking hell was she hanging out with Tanya? Something didn’t add up. Even though I hated it when they meddled in my life, I needed to figure out what was going on. Since I couldn’t step in without Aoife becoming suspicious, I decided to ask Aidan and Liam to run interference for me. If Aoife was tagging along with Tanya, those two would be able to keep an eye on her for me. And besides, I wasn’t convinced Aidan was quite done with the notorious Ms. O’Reilly.
Which got me to thinking. Since Tanya showed up wherever Aidan was, had they seen Aoife last night? And if they had, why hadn’t one of them said something?
Declan: I hate to even ask, but did you see Aoife last night?
Aidan: Yeah man, don’t worry. We kept an eye on her.
Declan: I need to convince her Tanya’s bad news. She’s slept with half the team already! I don’t want people thinking my baby sister is next in line.
Aidan: Significantly less than that, I’d say. In fact, just me and O’Dempsey so far as I know. But you don’t need to worry about Aoife. No one would dare touch her.
Declan: You sure about that?
Aidan: Absolutely. The second Aoife walked in, Eoin made a bee-line for her and didn’t leave her side all night. The little fucker complained non-stop about what a cock block she was, but he made sure she got home safe.
Aidan: What’s your problem with Tanya, btw?
Declan: I don’t have a problem with Tanya personally. I just don’t want Aoife to get the same sort of rep.
Aidan: Don’t worry. We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen if you’re not around to play big brother.
Declan: Thanks man. But call me if she shows up and I’m not there. I need to put an end to whatever shit she’s trying to pull.
Aidan: Sure thing. It just seemed like you needed a night off. You looked tired.
Declan: Yeah, I’m in bad shape today. I needed that extra sleep.
Aidan: I know what you mean.
Aidan: We still on for brunch today?
Oh shit, I’d forgotten to cancel when I’d jumped in my car to drive out here.
Declan: Sorry, forgot to tell you yesterday. No can do. I’m in Ballycurra helping out my mam with some Christmas stuff. Rain check?
He didn’t need to know this wasn’t my plan all along. That I’d come out here because I’d woken up feeling restless and couldn’t think what else to do with myself. He didn’t need to know that even now that restlessness threatened to return.
Aidan: Sure, no problem. Later.
I spent the morning helping out where I could and when it was finally a decent hour, I set out for the pub. The thought of seeing Sophie again sent a prickle of anticipation down my spine. I’d felt that same tingling sensation a thousand times before, usually right before kickoff, but never over a woman.
I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.
Chapter Seventeen
Sophie
Hearing a commotion coming from the front of the pub, I wiped my hands and wandered through the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the heart of Fitzgerald’s. A circle had formed in the middle of the room, each person clamoring to reach the center and bestow felicitations on whoever was enveloped within.
“That was some play,” the booming voice of Mr. O’Malley offered up jovially. “We always knew you had some fancy footwork on ye lad, but they weren’t expecting that!”
“How’re the ribs?” the butcher asked, swatting the man’s back.
“Well, don’t hit him,” Patrick, his nephew, chided. “We need him in top form against Galway.”
“Alright you lot, give the lad some breathing room,” my grandpa scolded, elbowing his friends out of the way, revealing Declan standing in the center of the group.
Bruised and battered, he graciously accepted their praise until he felt me watching him from across the room. Raising his eyes, his gaze locked with mine—held—while more people stepped forward to offer him their congratulations.
When it looked like he wouldn’t be free anytime soon, I mouthed my own congratulations and returned to the kitchen, my heart beating rapidly. Last night’s match—that is, what I’d seen of it between dealing with Cian’s issues and dashing around the pub refilling drinks and clearing tables—came back to me.
Growing up in a city famed for its history of Super Bowl championships and World Series pennants, it was easy to be jaded in the face of athletic victory. When you’d spent your entire childhood hearing everyone you knew extolling the virtue of “our boys” or “my team,” you tended to forget what it meant to actually have a hometown hero. But standing in Fitzgerald’s last night, watching a mother cry tears of joy when her youngest son played the entire match, or taking in the delighted look in my grandpa’s eyes when Declan scored with seconds to spare, I begrudgingly admitted maybe I could understand a bit of their devotion.
When I finished refilling our ketchup bottles, I peeked my head through the door to find Declan regaling his admirers with a play-by-play of the night before. Glancing up, he caught me staring. I probably should have been embarrassed, but I didn’t have it in me to feel any shame. And if his smile was any indication, he liked it when I looked at him, took my fill of him. I grinned back and shrugged. I’d been caught ogling and needed to own it.
Declan shook his head and chuckled before turning his attention back to his fans as I slipped upstairs to get some work done on my blog.
Declan
After spending another 30 minutes answering questions and discussing certain plays, I politely excused myself and snuck into the kitchen to look for Sophie. Colm was at the stove stirring a pot while Maureen chopped carrots.
“Oh, hello dear,” she said when she spotted me. “If you’re looking for Sophie, she’s gone upstairs.”
“Who says I’m not here to say hello to you, Maureen?” I answered, never missing a chance to flirt.
These dimples had been getting me cookies, cakes, and other sweet treats for years.
“You could be,” Colm chuckled, “but everyone saw you light up like a firework when Sophie smiled your way.”
“And then you couldn’t quit looking toward the kitchen, hoping she’d come back,” Maureen added.
“Everyone saw that?” I cringed at the idea of everyone seeing me behave like a love-sick fool.
“Well, maybe not everyone,” Colm teased. “But I certainly did.”
“And then he pointed it out to me,” Maureen chirped happily.
“Well, that’s not at all awkward,” I muttered, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jacket and running the toe of my shoes over a crack in the tile. “And neither is this. Not at all.”
“What’s not awkward, dear?” Maureen asked kindly.
“You. This. Teasing me about Sophie.”
“Is that what we’re doing?” Colm asked. “If you think this is bad, you’re in for a surprise when we actually have a go at you. You need to toughen up, son, if you plan on being with our Sophie.”
“She’s a spitfire, that one,” Maureen added.
See, I thought, that’s exactly what I tried telling Cian. He’d decided Sophie was all sunshine and roses but everyone who really knew her, knew otherwise. That girl had bite.
“It’ll take a special fellow to tame her.”
Colm’s statement rankled. I’d never been accused of being a feminist, but I didn’t like the way he was talking about her, like she was some wild pony that needed to be broken. Her spirit was one of the things I liked most. I hated the idea of some other man thinking otherwise.
“What sort of fellow did you have in mind?” I asked cautiously, holding my breath as I waited for his answer.
After what seemed
like forever, Colm quit stirring the pot and turned to face me. “I thought I’d made that clear, son.”
His eyes held nothing but kindness and I felt his belief in me to my core. Funny since my actual family didn’t think I was capable of being anything more than I’d been. Then again, I hadn’t confided in them how tired I was of it all. How much I hated the man I’d become. Colm though, he knew what was in my heart.
“By the way you were talking just now, I wasn’t sure if something had changed,” I answered honestly.
“You’d challenge her,” he said thoughtfully. “And I think you can make her happy while she’s here. She deserves it. Despite what others might say, you do too.”
If I were in his position, unlike him, I’d have told me not to even think about touching someone as precious as Sophie.
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”
“You should probably get upstairs and say hello, shouldn’t you?” Maureen prodded.
“Yes, ma’am.” Feeling the need to say more, I added, “I hope I don’t let you down.”
“Don’t let yourself down,” she answered and I flinched, because we all knew there was a good chance that’s exactly what I’d do.
“Knock knock,” I said, rapping the doorway with my knuckles.
“Oh, hey,” Sophie said, her head popping up in surprise. She closed her computer, straightened her papers, and moved to the sink.
Having been in this room countless times before, I’d never given the space much thought. But seeing Sophie at the small round table, her laptop open and papers spread all around her, made it look more inviting. Like I could pull up a chair and sit awhile, just watch her work, and absorb the nearness of her. Looking at her bathed in a halo of late afternoon light, my heart tightened with longing. I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from telling her.
“I hope you don’t mind I’m here,” I said.
I couldn’t get a read on her and that made me nervous.
“No, of course not,” she answered with a smile that felt like a punch to the solar plexus. “From what my grandpa says, you’ve probably spent more time here than I have. Have a seat,” she indicated the chair across from where she’d sat.
Trying Sophie: A Dublin Rugby Romance Page 15
