Orla
Thank God, there’d been a direct flight to Cork, even if the price had been insane.
Tyler had flat-out refused to let me pay, and I’d protested, but I think he needed to do something, needed to help somehow.
Honestly, I think he’d have been on that plane with me if I’d let him, giving it all up, just to make sure I was okay.
A shameful amount of those tears had been for that alone, for the way he was willing to show up for me like he loved me.
Fuck. I wasn’t ready to admit that out loud, but I was terrified I was falling fast. I told myself it was just shock, that I wasn't thinking straight, but the weight of him was still there, pressing into my chest even from three thousand miles away.
Danny had been vague as ever when I called him before boarding.
All I knew was that Dad had collapsed at the rugby club, something about a defibrillator, and surgery.
I’d tried calling Malachy from the cab to the airport, but he hadn’t answered, and then I was trapped on a six-hour flight with no reception.
No updates. No idea what I was walking into.
Every possible scenario played on a loop until I couldn’t take it anymore.
By the time I landed, I was strung out, delirious, and running on fumes. I hadn’t slept properly since the night before Tyler’s match.
Danny was waiting for me at arrivals, all stubble, bleary eyes and shoulders slumped like the weight of the world had been pressing on him too. I just fell into his arms, clutching the back of his jacket. A sob ripped out of me before I could stop it.
“He’s fine, sis. I just spoke to Mal. He’s out of surgery.”
Relief ripped through me, making my knees weak. I had to grip his arm just to stay upright. Tears streamed down my face, and I couldn’t stop them.
Danny and I looked the most alike; we had the same dark hair and dark eyes, both of us inheriting Dad’s olive complexion.
People used to joke we were twins, but today he looked older.
Exhausted. He looked fragile in a way I’d never seen before, like the weight of the last few hours had aged him years.
We drove straight to the hospital, the familiar streets of Cork a grey blur outside the window. Mal and his wife, Erin, were already in the waiting room when we arrived, their faces pale under the harsh fluorescent lights.
Mal still lived in Cork with his family.
He was a lawyer, sharp as a whip, and always the brain to Danny’s brawn.
I like to think I was a mix of both. We were close, even if life had scattered us across the country.
Secretly, I was glad Mal had stayed near home.
The thought of Dad being completely alone would’ve eaten me alive.
“Hey, sis. Where’s the tennis star boyfriend?” Mal smirked the second he saw me.
“Oh, don’t start,” I groaned, the sound muffled as I pulled away from him.
“What? What else am I supposed to say when my baby sister’s splashed across the front pages in the arms of an elite athlete?” He was trying to lighten the mood, a classic Malachy move to keep the panic at bay, but under the teasing, his eyes were bloodshot.
I shoved him, but caught the flicker of a darker look from Danny.
He didn’t say anything, but I knew that face.
It was the same one he used to give lads at school when they came sniffing around me: try it, and I’ll bury you.
Growing up with these two meant boyfriends were always a challenge.
Mal handled potential boyfriends with mockery, Danny with silent threats.
They took their duties far too seriously.
“Oh, leave her alone, Mal,” Erin said, giving him a shove while handing him a pale-looking vending machine coffee. “The poor girl’s just been dragged halfway across the world on no sleep.”
I loved Erin. She’d been with Mal since they were sixteen, childhood sweethearts who’d somehow never cracked. She’d practically been around for half my life and was more like an actual sister to me. Now she had two boys of her own and a knack for mothering anyone within reach.
The doctor came soon after we arrived and led us into Dad’s room. He’d just woken, eyes still heavy but voice as quick as ever.
“Jesus, is this what it takes for your ol’ man to get you all in the same room these days?” His thick Cork accent was ragged but the dry wit was unmistakably him.
A watery laugh escaped me.
“Ye gave us quite the scare there, Dad,” Mal said.
“Well, you know it’s not a night at the rugby club without a bit of a kerfuffle,” Dad croaked.
This was Brian Sheehan—the big, burly man who’d been the center of my world—now looking pale and fragile under thin hospital sheets. The monitors beeped with a steady, clinical rhythm, a constant reminder of how close we’d come to losing him. I had to keep telling myself he was going to be okay.
His gaze found me deliberately. “Little Orly girl,” he said, “they didn’t drag you all the way back from America, did they?”
A tear slid down my cheek. “They didn’t drag me, Dad. I was on the first flight back. No question.”
“Well, you can get on the first flight back, ye daft girl,” he chuckled, though it came out hoarse.
“Oh, thanks, Dad. Glad to see you, too.” I sniffed.
“I’m serious. Yer tennis-boy boyfriend must be missin’ you something terrible.”
Mal and Danny burst out laughing.
“Oh, don’t you start as well,” I groaned, though there was no heat in it.
Erin touched my arm softly. “Go grab some air, pet. You’ve barely stopped since you landed.”
She was right, my chest was so tight it hurt, and my stomach was growling at me.
I nodded, slipping out into the corridor hoping to find a vending machine.
The sterile smell of disinfectant clung to the back of my throat.
Nurses moved in and out of rooms with quiet efficiency, the hushed tone of visitors and the beep of distant monitors filling the space.
I pressed my back to the wall, pulled out my phone, and stared at the screen. I hadn’t called him since I landed. The guilt burned in my throat as I remembered his words at the airport. You need me, I’m there.
And God, did I wish he was here now. Before I could talk myself out of it, I scrolled to his name and hit call. He picked up on the first ring.
“Baby? You there? You okay?” His voice was urgent, like he’d been waiting to hear mine for hours.
“Yeah,” I said quickly, then had to swallow before I could keep going. “Yeah, I’m okay. Surgery went well. He’s awake. Already giving us grief.”
I tried to make it sound light, but my voice caught.
Tyler let out a long breath on the other end. “Jesus. I’ve been sitting here refreshing flight prices every hour. Swear to God, if you hadn’t called, I was two minutes away from saying fuck it and coming anyway.”
The lump in my throat swelled. “I’m glad you didn’t. I meant what I said, Ty. You need to play. That’s where you’re meant to be right now.”
There was a pause. I leaned my head back against the wall, closed my eyes, and just breathed with him on the other end of the line.
“I was worried about you, baby,” he said finally, voice gone rough. “Don’t ever go through something like this without me again.”
My lips pressed together hard. That dangerous pull toward him, the one I’d been trying to keep in check, sank deeper.
“Well,” I said, clearing my throat, “you’ll be glad to know Dad asked about ‘the tennis star boyfriend’ before he even asked how I was.”
That earned me a low chuckle. “Good to know I’m winning over the future father-in-law early.”
I rolled my eyes, though my smile tugged. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Reed.”
“Too late,” he said, and I could hear the grin in his voice.
“I should get back in,” I murmured after a minute. “You should sleep.”
“Sleep? Without you here? Not a chance. Call me later. Don’t care what time.”
“I promise.”
I hung up and stared at the screen for a moment, thumb hovering like I might hit redial just to hear him again. Instead, I slid the phone into my pocket and pushed away from the wall just as Danny came down the corridor.
“Fucking hate hospitals,” he muttered.
“Well, you were in them enough as a kid with all your broken bones,” I said, laughing softly.
He smiled as he came to sit next to me on the plastic chairs.
“So…you and Tyler Reed, huh?” he asked, going into full big-bro mode.
I sighed. “You going to wind me up as well?”
“No.” He shook his head, expression more serious than usual. “I just…you know that guy’s always plastered across the Daily Mail, right?”
I sighed again. “Look, I’m not stupid. I know all that. But…” My throat tightened.
Danny was watching me, his protector-mode dialed all the way up.
“He’s really not like that, Danny. Okay, he’s had a past, but there’s a different side to him. He was going to jump on a plane and drop out of the US Open for me, for God’s sake. Who does that?”
Danny’s eyes narrowed, processing that. He knew what it meant for a pro athlete to walk away from a Major. “Just be careful, Orly girl. You forget I’m around his type a lot.”
“Fuck that, you’re one of them,” I teased, nudging his shoulder.
He looked offended. “Excuse me, I am not.”
“I bet you’ve turned my flat into a right shag pad since I’ve been away.” I grinned, trying to pull him back from the heavy stuff.
“Yeah, right. I wish.” His smile softened, but the shadow didn't leave his eyes. “I’m just saying, if you need me to kick his ass, I’ll do it for free.”
I slipped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in for a side hug. “Thanks, big bro. I’ll keep that in mind.”