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It was a large eight-bedroom property in the countryside, with lawns and gardens spanning out the course of several acres, all of which were enclosed with fencing so the family dogs could roam freely without restraints.
The previous owners used to operate an equine center from the property, so it was filled with unused housing stalls and sheds, and the only access to the property was through the electronically gated entrance at the front.
Mam often talked about buying a horse for the stables, but thankfully my father talked her down from that particular ledge. She was hopeless when it came to animals. Problem was, she traveled a lot so it wasn’t practical or fair.
Three dogs were where my father drew the line.
My folks had converted one of the garages into a home gym for workouts. They supported my lifestyle and encouraged my dreams, even if they didn’t always agree with my methods of pursuing them. We also had a separate outbuilding built several years ago that contained a jacuzzi and sauna. It was a lifesaver after matches.
Our closest neighbors lived a mile and a half down the road so it was fairly secluded, and the house was south facing so it constantly captured the sun. Even though I missed the noise and bustle of Dublin and spent a solid two years trying to get used to the quiet, I couldn’t deny that where I lived now was fucking beautiful.
Not a manor, just a nice place to live in.
“Come on, Johnny,” Gibsie pleaded. “You’ve been in a horrible mood for weeks.”
“I wonder why,” I grumbled. “Listen, lad, I know you mean well”—I paused to grit my teeth when a nerve pain shot up my leg—“but I’m not going out tonight.”
“Because of Bella?” Gibsie asked, leaning against the banister. “Or because of Shannon?”
“Because of me,” I snapped, bristling. “Because I am dead on my feet.”
Forcing myself not to limp, I made it to the staircase, inhaled a steadying breath, and pushed my legs to comply and not let me down.
Like they did earlier.
“You’re limping, Johnny,” Gibsie acknowledged in a quiet tone as he followed me down to my room.
“Keep your fucking voice down,” I hissed, pushing my bedroom door open. “My ma’s in her office.”
“Well, you are,” he countered in an oddly serious tone. “Are you okay?”
“Took a spill at training—” I paused to lift Sookie onto my bed. “Nothing a night’s sleep won’t fix.”
“You sure that’s all it is?” Gibsie asked, sinking down on one of the beanbags by the TV, “his” beanbag. “If you don’t want your mother knowing, I can drive you to the hospital to get it checked out—”
“I’m fine.” Walking over to the beanbag next to his, I sank down beside him, only to hiss when a sharp pain rocketed up my pelvis. “Absolutely fucking fine.”
Gibsie shook his head and reached for the remote control, thankfully keeping his thoughts to himself for once. Flicking on the television, he began to channel surf. “What do you want to watch?”
“You can go out,” I told him, stretching my legs out in front of me. “I’m not holding you back.”
“Nah.” Standing up, he walked over to the PS2 and switched it on before settling back down beside me. “I was only trying to get you out of the house.”
“Appreciate it,” I muttered, taking the controller he held out for me. “But not tonight.”
“You’re going to make that team, Johnny,” he mumbled as he set up a game of FIFA 05. “You know that, right?”
Exhaling a steadying breath, I forced the panic threatening to engulf me back down and concentrated on the screen in front of me.
“You will,” he added quietly.
“I hope so,” I bit out, focusing way too hard on the controller in my hand. “I really fucking do, Gibs.”
Otherwise, I was going to lose my mind.
“Do you want to get drunk?” he offered then. “Here—with your da’s whiskey and no clingers following you around and tormenting you?”
I thought about it for a minute and exhaled a heavy sigh.
