Orla
Another few days went by before we heard from Danny.
I knew he’d spoken to Dad, he’d already told me.
And Dad, in his infinite calm, told me not to push too much—we all knew that was the absolute worst way to handle Danny.
I knew if I pushed him, he’d dig in his heels.
The best approach with my brother was always to leave him alone to stew until he came storming back with his tail between his legs.
I’d texted him once, offered an olive branch, even told him where we were staying in case he wanted to talk. But it had been four days since then and nothing but silence.
Tyler had been out on court all morning, conditioning.
He had maybe three weeks of downtime before Shanghai in October and the clock was already ticking.
I’d spent mine down at Wimbledon, helping Emma with her shoulder rehab.The poor girl was still smiling like the sun, even with months of recovery ahead of her.
And even though I loved helping her…there was that familiar tug in my ribs again.
Everyone needed something from me, all at once.
Emma’s shoulder. Tyler’s leg. Danny’s temper.
Plus my usual caseload from the tennis centre I’d picked back up.
Sometimes I felt like I was being pulled in too many different directions, and none of them left room for me.
This afternoon we were supposed to view a flat in Wimbledon. There was no way we could live in my tiny Balham place with Danny still there and I couldn’t exactly kick him out after the bomb we’d just dropped on him.
The lift doors slid open as I made my way onto our hotel floor, and my stomach lurched. A familiar imposing outline was leaning against my doorframe, shoulder propped, phone pressed to his ear. At the same time, I felt my own phone vibrating in my bag.
“Danny?” My voice came out stunned.
He jolted, caught off guard, thumb fumbling to kill the call. His face was pale, eyes darting like a deer in headlights.
“Can we talk?” he asked, barely meeting my gaze.
“Okay. Come in.” My hand shook a little as I swiped the keycard.
I let him step inside, still tense, still coiled. “Tyler’s at the courts, but he should be back soon.”
“I want to talk to you first,” he grumbled.
“Okay.” I sat on the edge of the sofa, leaving a deliberate gap between us. I wasn’t scared of Danny, not in the slightest but I was still furious with him. Realistically, I knew he felt the same.
He scrubbed a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “Orla…first, I’m sorry. For the way I spoke to you. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
He was damn right he shouldn’t have, but I bit my tongue and only nodded.
“I just…” His jaw tightened. “You caught me at a shitty time, and I didn’t react well. I still don’t like what you did, but…it’s your life. If you’re happy, I’ll have to accept that.”
“Danny, you didn’t even let me explain the other night.” My throat burned. “Yeah, I feel bad about how we did it, but I don’t regret it. Not for a second. We were drunk but I’m not stupid. It wasn’t some mistake. We both wanted it.”
His eyes stayed sharp, but there was a softening there too. “It’s just…you see so much about him, Orla. I’m scared you’ll get caught up in it all and hurt again. I know how cut up you were after Josh.”
I flinched. I hated how easily those old wounds flared.
How quickly I slipped back into feeling like the common denominator in every disaster.
I knew it was coming from a place of love, he was my big brother after all—and I’d do the same for him—but he really needed to stop treating me like his ‘baby’ sister.
“Danny, he’s nothing like Josh. The media twists everything, but nobody sees him the way I do. He’s not what they make him out to be.”
Danny exhaled, long and hard. “I trust your judgment. And… I’m sorry I hit him. That was really shitty. I wasn’t in a good place that day.”
I smiled faintly. “Yeah, that was pretty shit.” I tilted my head, watching him closely. “So what’s going on, Danny? Talk to me.”
Something flickered across his face. Something wasn’t right. He looked like he was carrying the weight of the world, gaze dropping to his hands as though he had to physically force the words out.
My brows furrowed. Danny was guarded by nature, but I’d never seen him like this, folded inward, stripped of his usual composure.
“Something happened in pre-season training. I made it back to the stands, but by the end, I could barely walk.” His voice cracked.
“Orla… I’ve ruptured my Achilles. I’m gonna need surgery. This could end it for me.”
My chest caved. I’d seen enough of these injuries to know the truth.
At thirty-two, this was serious—potentially career-ending, more often than not.
Danny had worked his arse off to get where he was.
A Lions tour. Ireland caps. A massive club contract.
Of course he looked like his world had just collapsed.
The instinct to fix it hit me hard and fast, the way it always did. Because that’s what I did.
I carried people.
“Jesus, Danny, why didn’t you tell me? I’m a bloody physio for Christ’s sake.”
“Because I hadn’t even processed it myself. I’m thirty-two now, Orl. I don’t know how this plays out.”
“Right.” I straightened, already in work mode.
“You need surgery. I’ll come to the consultation with you, ask all the right questions.
I’ll get you seen quicker. I’ll rehab you myself if I have to.
” Another piece of me offered up without hesitation.
Another promise I’d have to stretch myself thinner to keep.
And still, a part of me worried it wouldn’t be enough.
He cracked the faintest grin. “In between looking after your new husband, you mean?”
I swatted him with a cushion. “Yes. Exactly that.” He was thawing, I could feel it.
The door swung open behind us. A sweaty Tyler stepped in and froze. “Should I brace for another flying fist, or am I safe?”
Danny’s eyes flicked to the blackened bruise around his eye, then away again. He cleared his throat. “No, you’re safe. For now.” He paused, and his voice softened. “But I am sorry. For all of it.”
Tyler let out a breath, shoulders easing. “Look, man, I get it. You’re protective. But just know this: I feel the same about keeping her safe.”
Danny nodded, appreciative but clearly lost for words after what he’d just admitted. No wonder he’d gone off the rails the other night. We really couldn’t have picked a worse time to drop Vegas on him.
“Okay, well… I need to head off.” He slapped his thighs and pushed up from the sofa with a grunt. I rose too.
“Send me your appointment schedule,” I said quickly, reaching for his arm. “I’ll be there.”
As he crossed the room toward Tyler, I noticed it, the stiffness in his gait, the way he was trying to disguise the limp. He must have been in agony. Guilt pressed heavy against my ribs.
Tyler held out a hand, tentatively and to my relief, Danny took it. He even hauled him into the frostiest bro hug known to man. But still, a hug. I’d take it.
When the door closed behind him, Tyler’s eyes widened. “Jesus, I did not expect that,” he said, incredulous.
“That was huge for him,” I nodded, sinking back onto the sofa. My chest still tight from barely breathing the entire time he was here for fear of spooking him.
Tyler leaned against the doorframe, brows furrowed. “What was that about appointments?”
I exhaled loudly. “He’s ruptured his Achilles. Doesn’t know if he can play again. I told him I’d go with him to the consultation. Rehab him when I’m here in London. Same as I’m doing with Emma.”
Tyler’s brows shot up, the weight of it landing on him too. “Shit,” he murmured “That’s…brutal”
“I know.” My voice cracked. He didn’t say anything else, but I could see it in his face, the recognition. He understood what this kind of injury took. The fear. The grief. The terrifying question of who you were when the game was suddenly taken away.
Tyler pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room, sitting beside me without a word. His hand found mine.
“Well, lucky for him he has you; he won’t have to deal with it alone,” Tyler said finally. Somehow, despite the shaky start to their relationship I already knew that the two of them were going to understand each other far better than either of them realised yet.