NICK: O’Connor Brothers #3

by Kelly, A. S.

  “Nick, Nick, Nick.”

  I scoff as they come and sit either side of me. I feel like the loser stuck in the middle.

  “We didn’t think you’d be so crap at this, too.”

  I feel like I’ve lived through this conversation, this whole scene, before. Only this time, I’m on the other side of the fence – and it’s much less fun over here.

  “Have they given you all the geeks because they have no hope?” Ryan asks.

  “Maybe because they think I’ll be able to train them up.”

  They both burst into such loud laughter that my lovely little geeks turn to watch us.

  “Wait, wait… What’s that written on your hoodie?” Ian asks, pointing to the writing. “Coach?”

  Another laugh, this time louder. The kids start to come over to us.

  “Hey, kids,” Ryan says, getting to his feet. “What are you doing over here? Aren’t you supposed to be training?”

  Some of them shrug, others ignore him. Well, at least they’ve worked out who to listen to around here.

  “Can we take a break, coach?” one of them asks me.

  Ryan can barely stifle another laugh.

  “Why is he laughing?” Corey asks.

  “Because he’s an idiot,” I reply, satisfied.

  “Is he laughing at us?” he presses, furrowing his brow. At this point, my brother steps in.

  “No, kids. I was laughing at something to do with…us.”

  The kids all look at him doubtfully.

  Ian gets up and approaches them.

  “We’re the…coach’s brothers,” he says, but I know how hard he’s trying not to laugh.

  “Cool,” one of them responds. “Do you guys play too?”

  “Don’t you watch the matches on TV?” Ryan asks, horrified at the idea that they didn’t recognise him.

  He shakes his head.

  “So what the hell are you doing on a rugby pitch?”

  I elbow him in the ribs to shut him up, but he barely feels it.

  “We both play for Leinster,” Ian says, trying to patch up the situation. “With him,” he points towards Jamie, at the other end of the pitch, leading a practice game with his kids.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We’ve come here to make fun of the family loser,” Ryan responds breezily.

  The kids turn to me.

  “Nick’s not a loser,” one of them says.

  My brothers fall silent, and I almost keel over onto the grass.

  “Yeah, he’s the best,” another adds.

  “And you two shouldn’t make fun of him.”

  “Guys, they’re only joking,” I say, trying to defend them – not for them, I couldn’t care less about that. But I do it because I don’t want these kids going home and telling their families that the coach and his brothers are arseholes.

  “I don’t like it when my brother calls me a loser,” Corey says.

  “Does that happen a lot?” I ask him, moved by an empathy I didn’t even know I had.

  He shrugs.

  “You’re right, it’s not nice,” Ian says, smiling at him. Fatherhood is starting to rub off on him. “But we’re a bit…”

  “Stupid?” Corey helps.

  “Exactly.”

  “What do you say, kids,” I say, trying to regain control of my team and the situation, “shall we go inside and get a drink?”

  The kids agree, and head towards the centre.

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” I tell them, before turning to my brothers to punch their stupid faces in.

  “Come on, we only came down to make fun of you a bit,” Ian justifies. “You would’ve done it to me.”

  “And me,” Ryan interjects.

  “So let’s just call it even, okay?” I say, not wanting to talk about it anymore.

  “You going to offer us a drink, too?” Ian asks, smiling.

  I gesture for them to follow me and we head into the centre. I grab drinks for us and for the kids, and we sit at a table, as my students enjoy the unexpected break.

  “It’s not that bad,” Ian comments, referring to my new job.

  “No,” I say flatly.

  “It could even be just what you need.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that now. Jamie’s already roped me into doing this and I don’t know what’s going to happen after.”

  Ian nods.

  “This afternoon will be Dad’s first home visit,” I continue, feigning indifference. “Maybe one of us should go along?”

  Ian rolls his eyes and leans his elbow on the table. “Nick, you can avoid this blow, you know.”

  “Or maybe you should just take it, right in the face,” Ryan adds.

  “I’m just saying that one of us should be there. And you’re busy, right?” I turn to Ian. “With the baby and your new life. And you,” I turn to Ryan, “You’re no help to anyone.”

  “Hey!”

  “I finish here at two and then I have nothing else to do.”

  “Hmm.”

  Ian gets more and more like Dad every day. How the hell is that even possible?

  “There’s nothing else.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I scoff, losing my patience. “It’s been eight years!”

  And that’s exactly what it is. Eight years have passed and I just disappeared without a trace: no contact, no messages. I moved on, travelled the world, chose a career that took me away from here; and, before Dad got ill, I thought I’d never come back. I made my choice, and I don’t regret any of it. It was what I wanted.

  “Nick,” Ian pulls me back to Earth. “Is there something you haven’t told us? You haven’t left anything in the lurch, right?”

  “Of course not,” I say, feeling my stomach and everything else go up in flames.

  Maybe it’s just hell calling me.

  12

  Casey

  “Thanks for the lift, Dad.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I open the passenger door and get out of the car, before turning to face the window. “You can go now.”

  “I am going.”

  “Dad…”

  “What? I’m not doing anything.”

  “I’ll never ask you for a favour again.”

  “Are you sure that arsehole is going to come and pick you up?”

  “It just so happens that that ‘arsehole’ is the guy I’m going out with.”

  “Only until I wait outside his house at night and cut off his legs. Both of them. Up to the knee.”

  “He’ll still be able to operate, even in a wheelchair.”

  “True. I’ll break his fingers, then. Thanks for the tip.”

  I scoff and cross my arms. “Do you always have to do this?”

  “I don’t like that nurse.”

  “He’s a doctor.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “You have to stop it, Dad. I like Luke.”

  “And you don’t care that I don’t like him?”

  “Honestly? No.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Can you go now? Please.”

  Dad switches on the ignition and slowly pulls out of the O’Connors’ driveway, never taking his eyes off the front door. I don’t know what he’s waiting for – maybe to see if one of the boys opens the door to me?

  I asked him to drop me off because I have a date with Luke tonight, the guy I’ve been seeing for a few weeks now, and he’s going to pick me up straight from here. It might not be very professional, but this is the O’Connors after all. They wouldn’t mind about things like this.

  I pull my bag over my shoulder, which contains my change of clothes for tonight: I’ve chosen a really nice dress that will hopefully do something for him. Maybe tonight he’ll finally take me back to his apartment and rip it off me, moving to the next level of this relationship before my body shamelessly explodes. And when the front door opens, the thought of dresses being ripped off flares up in my mind again – but the man is different to who h
e was two minutes ago.

  Jesus, Nick. Why have you aged so well?

  “Hey, Casey.”

  My name on his lips. A shiver creeps through my body. I must be chilly. I should’ve worn a jacket.

  “Come in, my parents are waiting for you.”

  I step past him, averting my gaze – but that uninvited tingle keeps creeping up my spine. It’s starting to get irritating.

  “I helped them move a few bits of furniture out of the living room, so you’ll have space. I set up the physio table, too.”

  I follow behind him, my eyes sliding down his back, before settling on the curve of his bum in their tight jeans. I think every woman on the planet has memorised that bum – so I don’t see anything wrong with making the most of the situation, letting my eyes work out whether it really is as perfect as his modelling pictures, or whether it’s been PhotoShopped.

  “You okay?” He turns suddenly towards me.

  “Great,” I cry, overly cheerful.

  Nope, no PhotoShop here. It’s all real.

  Jesus.

  I catch up with him, stopping in the living room doorway. Nick rests his hand on my back, just between the waistband of my jeans and the seam of my top. I can feel his heat, and suddenly I can’t breathe anymore. His fingers are brushing against my skin; only for a second, maybe two, but it’s already too much. He pulls his hand away suddenly, as if he’s just felt an electric shock: it hovers there for a few seconds, and I’m suspended between a need and a fear that he’ll do it again. Then, as if he could hear my thoughts, he brushes them against me again. First, with his fingertips, then with his whole finger sliding slowly across my skin, and then with his palm, which presses lightly against me. It’s an intimate gesture that my body recognises immediately, reacting in the only way possible: trembling against his touch. I turn suddenly to meet his gaze and find myself catapulted back in time.

  I’m not in the O’Connors’ house anymore. I’m not twenty-seven: we’re alone in a swimming pool, with only our breathing for company.

  “Good evening, Casey,” Mrs O’Connor greets me. Nick moves away suddenly, and I realise from his confused expression that he probably had the same flashback as me.

  “Hi, Mrs O’Connor.” I try to shake myself off and come back to the present. “Are we ready?”

  “Ready to go!” James responds. His positivity melts my heart immediately.

  “Well then, if you don’t mind, we’ll get started right away. I’d prefer it if we were alone, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course, dear.”

  “Don’t you need a hand?” Nick asks.

  “It’s my job. I know what I’m doing.”

  “I just thought you might need help, that’s all,” Nick tries again.

  “I’ve been doing this on my own for years. I’m capable of treating anyone, and this is no different,” I say, but my voice betrays my hurt.

  Obviously, this is different. I knew Mr O’Connor well, and knowing about his illness has left a huge hole in my heart. And Nick being here isn’t making it much easier, but I’m not going to let myself drown in the past. Eight years is more than enough, right? He and his beautiful butt cheeks can stay locked up in that old, dusty box I shoved into the loft of my mind as soon as he left. The physio won’t last forever – a couple of months at most – and once we’ve finished, he’ll be ready to get back to his travels, his photo shoots. His bullshit.

  “I just wanted to be useful.”

  “Well, you’re not. This is grown-up stuff. Why don’t you go play in the garden instead?”

  Why can’t I stop my tongue? Why am I so angry? Why did he have to touch me? Look at me? Why is he even breathing?

  “Come on, Nick,” his mother says, taking him by the arm. “Can’t you see we’re getting in the way? Leave your dad in Casey’s capable hands. She’s here for a reason.”

  Nick nods without looking at me, and he and his mother leave the living room.

  Once we’re alone, I finally turn my attention back to my patient and start to explain the process to him. “How did it happen?” I ask, referring to his accident.

  “I missed a step and fell down the stairs. Luckily, I was near the bottom, but my knee gave in.”

  “And we need to get it back up and running.”

  He smiles kindly at me.

  “Do you reckon you could get anything else up and running?”

  “I wish I could,” I tell him, pain coursing through my heart. “I know about what you’re going through.”

  “Of course you know. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

  I smile as I guide him to sit down on the table.

  “Could you do something for me?”

  I look at him, not knowing how to respond.

  “I’m not talking about me, of course. I’m talking about that idiot out there.”

  I blush violently.

  “I see you know who I’m talking about.”

  “What? No, I—”

  James places his hand over mine.

  “I only accepted this physio because it was you.”

  I feel the colour of my face change from red to deep purple.

  “You know, it’s strange. I don’t remember much of my life. And I’m talking about important moments, things I did yesterday. To tell you the truth, I don’t even remember my fall,” he says, calmly. “But do you know what I do remember?”

  I shake my head.

  “I remember you, at the airport. The day Nick left.”

  My heart skips at least ten beats at the memory of that day.

  “It’s been a long time since then,” I say, trying to play it down and avoid the conversation.

  “That’s true: time passes. Unfortunately, for me it passes much too quickly. But certain things stay with you. Sure, they’re a little confused in my mind, but they also stay right in the heart of anyone who experienced them.”

  “Mr O’Connor…”

  “James.”

  “James, I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

  “Me? Nothing, dear. But you have the whole world ahead of you. You can go anywhere you want, even if you don’t know the way.”

  I shake my head and tear my gaze away from his. His eyes remind me far too much of someone else’s, and now is not the time for a trip down memory lane.

  He squeezes my hand, forcing me to look at him again. “Don’t wait for him to start this journey. You probably know better than me that he can’t. He barely knows the way home, let alone the way to his own heart.”

  Despite everything, he manages to get a smile out of me. But it’s a smile loaded with sadness: a sadness which overcomes me every time I try not to think of him, of what we never were, of what he did to me and my stupid feelings.

  Of what he said to me, before throwing his bag over his shoulder and leaving.

  Of what I felt when I saw him pass through airport security, happy and proud, as if he were leaving nothing behind. But, that day, I decided not to stick around: not to stand there, waiting for someone I already knew would never come back.

  I made my decision, and I moved on. I threw myself into my life, and everything I had ahead of me.

  And, with time, I learned how to survive without him.

  Without us.

  13

  Nick

  “Can you stop that?”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop just standing there at the door.”

  I scoff and turn towards Mum.

  “Casey knows what she’s doing, otherwise Martin would never have recommended her. And you shouldn’t just stand there. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of things.”

  “I know you are, but I’d rather be here too.”

  “As long as you don’t mess things up again.”

  “Me? Mess things up?”

  She glances at me, raising an eyebrow. “Nick O’Connor, I’m your mother. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “It’s the other two dickheads that always m
ess things up.”

  “At least they’ve managed to get themselves back on track. You, on the other hand…”

  “What?”

  “You’re about to do it again.”

  “What the fuck…?”

  “I knew this would happen. We can’t get one second of peace in this family.”

  “Mum…”

  “I can feel it in the air.”

  “What?”

  “A strange electricity.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “It’s a sign.”

  “You’re worrying me.”

  “Not as much as you worry me…”

  “What’s up with you today?!”

  Mum looks at me, suddenly serious. “Nick, you’ve grown up now. You’re a man. And, at the moment, you’re still my main concern. Your brothers have both been really lucky.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Have you not seen the women they’ve found? I never thought it would happen, but there they are: two angels, sent to save them.”

  “Let’s not get too carried away. Angels…who, those two?”

  Mum glares at me. “Don’t you dare offend the women in this family.”

  I scoff impatiently, and grab a beer from the fridge.

  “And now, thank God, we’ve been sent another angel.”

  I choke on my first sip.

  “W-what?”

  “We’re all done in here.” Casey suddenly appears at the kitchen doorway, my father behind her, interrupting our conversation. “For our first session, I’d say it went pretty well. James is a fantastic patient,” she smiles, squeezing Dad’s arm.

  She smiles, and the kitchen, my chest and my whole life fills with light, as if I’ve been woken from eight years of darkness. It’s a blinding light, so bright that it hurts your eyes – but you never want to close them. You want to look around you, even if it’s painful. There’s nothing else you’d rather do.

  “Thank you, Casey. You’re an angel,” Mum says.

  Even an idiot like me can start to understand what she was talking about.

  * * *

  “Thanks for letting me use your bathroom.” Casey comes slowly down the stairs, moving breezily and confidently: like a woman who knows full well the effect she has on men. I follow her movements right until her foot lands on the bottom step, putting my self-control to the test as I let my gaze slide slowly up her figure, examining every tiny, insignificant detail.