Chapter 8
Martin
I called in every favour I had at the hospital to swap my shift this morning.
No way was I telling Chris and Evan I couldn’t make it.
A first game isn't something a father misses. Living apart from him all these years has meant missing everything that matters. I wasn’t there for his first day of school and didn’t get the chance to hold his hand as he walked to class.
I never spoke to his teachers and didn’t know most of his friends.
I always had to ask Chris what he liked, and she usually bought his birthday or Christmas presents because I wouldn’t have known where to start.
At first, I didn’t realise it. When Evan was born, we were just two kids, and I didn’t have the maturity to handle it. I buried myself in my studies and lost so much. It’s only now, as I look at the man he’s becoming, that I truly understand the impact of those early years.
And now there’s Ryan O’Connor, who never misses a moment of my son’s life.
Evan is almost eighteen, and it feels like he wants me around less and less.
He doesn’t say this directly, but I can tell that I’ve become an awkward presence in his life, and I’m not one of his role models.
I can blame only myself for that. There is a significant gap between us, and no matter what I do, it only seems to push him further away.
The O’Connors have become his family, and all I can do is watch from a distance, waiting for him to realise that I am always here for him.
I see Chris, Ryan, and little Jamie in the front row, and I walk towards them.
“How is it going?”
“It’s still twenty minutes until kickoff. You’re on time today,” Chris says, and guilt immediately prickles at me.
“I have the morning off.”
“No one needed your precious care?” Ryan is on me in a second.
“They’ll call someone else. I’m here for Evan.”
Chris smiles at me, and I sit down next to her. Then, I look towards the pitch, where I see the teams warming up.
“He was nervous this morning,” she whispers. “He probably didn’t sleep at all last night. He’s trying to look cool, but he’s actually terrified.”
She knows because she’s his mam, always around, reading every shift in his mood. I struggle just to keep up.
“I’m going to talk to the coach.” Ryan gets to his feet.
“Wouldn’t it be better to mind your own business, O’Connor?” I ask, irritated.
“What do you want, Doctor? I belong here, and I do what I want. Besides, Evan’s going to need some advice, someone to give him the right push. And I’m the man for the job.”
Chris sighs beside me as Ryan makes his way to the team bench.
“Isn’t he putting too much pressure on him? Sometimes I feel like Ryan doesn’t even let him breathe.”
“It’s not like that. Evan and Ryan have a special bond.”
“I can see that.”
“You don’t have to be jealous.”
“Jealous? Me?”
“Evan needs a little help, and Ryan knows how to motivate him. After all, it’s about rugby, and it’s Ryan’s whole life.”
I don’t answer her. I don’t want to ruin the day with one of our usual arguments about how essential Ryan is in my son’s life.
“Good morning, everyone!” Casey greets cheerfully and sits next to Chris. “I’m ready for the big event,” she says, opening her jacket to reveal a T-shirt that reads: We love Evan Kane.
“Oh, Evan will be thrilled!” Chris laughs.
“How come you’re here alone?” I ask.
Casey looks at the pitch and points to Nick, who is also on the grass with Ryan, the coach, the team, and everyone else who’s apparently allowed to be there.
I snort, starting to feel like a fish out of water, the only one who doesn’t understand a damn thing about rugby and who has nothing to do with this family. The only one who will inevitably always be left out.
After all, it’s fair. Who am I? Just Evan’s dad.
I’m not part of this fabulous clan, and I have nothing in common with them.
Mr and Mrs O’Connor are nice to me; Riley, Chris and Casey, too.
But nothing I do will win me the favour of the three little pigs, not even if I build them a brick house with my own hands.
“I see the girls are all here.”
His voice cuts through the noise. My spine goes rigid, and my head snaps up before I even realise what I’m doing.
I turn towards him, with no control over myself at all, and that cocky grin still manages to catch me off guard.
Truth is, you could give me ten lifetimes, and I still wouldn’t be ready for a face-to-face with the ultimate Captain.
Jamie Murray is The Man.
He’s pure, bleeding testosterone: the face of a manipulative jerk, eyes that could ruin you in a thousand different ways.
A lethal arse. A body that looks permanently honed and sweat-slick from the gym.
Hands that, I’m sure, would know exactly how to hold every inch of your body.
But he’s also a total bastard and a serial heartbreaker, and beyond a wild, hot ride, he has nothing else to offer.
Worse, he’s a member of the O’Connor club.
Even worse, he kissed me at his sister’s wedding.
Worst of all, I liked it, and I haven’t been able to get him out of my head since.
He sits down next to me, leans back, and spreads his legs in front of him. “Where are the two inseparable brothers?”
“Where do you think they could be?” Chris retorts.
Jamie looks towards the bench. “They never piss out of the way,” he says, smiling. Then he turns to me. “What about you, Doctor?”
“Me, what?”
“Do you prefer to stay here with the girls? Aren’t you supposed to wish your son luck?”
He’s taking the piss, of course.
“It’s not my place,” I say, feeling a hint of bitterness in my stomach.
Jamie studies me for a few moments. I’m sure he’s about to take the piss again; instead, he turns his gaze in front of him and lets it go.
“They’re coming back,” Casey announces.
“It’s time,” Chris says. “And I don’t think what they’re doing is even allowed.”
“Apparently, the O’Connors can do whatever they want,” I mutter.
“Someone’s got a self-esteem problem,” Jamie mocks.
Ryan and Nick rejoin us, and the discussion ends. Ryan explains that Evan won’t start but might come on in the second half, since he’s new and still on trial and under close scrutiny.
I take a deep breath and try to focus on the game. Casey and Chris fidget in their seats, and the O’Connors shout and leap to their feet at every scrum, tackle, or whatever it’s called. But no one takes a moment to explain what’s going on. I don’t even know if we’re winning.
When Ryan stands up, wriggling like a monkey, I realise something is happening.
“His time has come,” Jamie whispers in my ear.
I turn to him abruptly and meet his gaze. It’s not a teasing, distracted or annoyed look. It’s not just any look.
This is the look. The kind of look that makes your blood run cold and leaves you gasping, as if you’re on the verge of passing out, having a heart attack, or drawing your last breath.
I stare at him, unable to speak. He smiles, lifts his hand towards my face, and grazes my chin with two fingers. Gently, he turns my face towards the pitch.
“The game is in front of you,” he says.
His voice, his touch. Again.
That thought creeps into my mind once more.
I grit my teeth, swallowing around the feeling of sharp splinters as I force myself to look at my son walking across the field.
“You must be proud of him,” Jamie says again.
I am proud. I’m so proud of him; my heart is bursting with pride and joy. I just want to find the right way to help him understand that.