In Touch (Play On #1) (17 page)

He glanced at Mitch at the same moment the lad raised his brows and grimaced. Obviously, the kid didn’t play the same way. Which made Padraig laugh, and then Mitch caught on, and so they were both still chuckling when they swung into the locker room.

Padraig took a minute to wish each player a good weekend as they left, one after another. No reason to hurry. Nothing to go to. God, a long weekend in Ireland would have meant travel to Europe for a quick trip to Paris or Barcelona, or some big nights out at the bars or clubs in Cork.

He had waved Del and Rory off as soon as he’d finished with the race with Mitch. Both had been loitering around his locker, itching to get on the road. They were driving through the night in hopes of getting to Del’s mate before the bars closed. Del had offered his car to Padraig for the weekend at least, tossing him the keys before they blasted out the door singing, “Fuck You, I’m Drunk.”

The room was empty by the time he dried off after his shower. He could hear Coach’s keys clunk as he locked his office door. Footsteps approached, so he threw on some shorts.

Coach addressed him as Padraig yanked a T-shirt over his head. “You were good with the boys out there today.”

“They were good with me.”

“Aye, they were. They would have been sooner…”

Padraig swung his locker door back and forth, back and forth, a creak of the metal at each pass, until he had the strength to meet Coach’s gaze. “I know.”

“I meant to ask you how your pain management is going with Gillian?”

“Fine.” Which was a lie on so many levels.

“Yeah? Are you still on the oxycodone?”

“Almost done, like.” Which was the truth. One pill left.

“Gillian believes you are a good man, and that’s enough for me. I wondered for a while, but glad you came around.” When Padraig didn’t say anything, he continued, “I’ve got to get going. Wife has plans for us to leave early tomorrow to go down-state and I have to pack the car tonight. I’ll set the alarm now. When you leave, make sure the door is secured behind you. Should be all right.”

Padraig nodded. “No worries.”

Scotch turned to leave.

“Oh, and Coach, thanks for the opportunity here. I know I haven’t said.”

Surprise dusted Coach’s features briefly. “Nae bother.”

“Have a good weekend.” Wow, he sounded so…American.

Coach waved without looking back. “You, too, Irish.”

The door clunked behind him and then silence. Padraig had never been lonely in his life. From growing up in a large Irish family where there was someone always around to be with, to the camaraderie of his teammates since he was young, he had never lived away from Ireland and never known solitude. Even now, he was unsure if that was what he was feeling.

Eager to keep his mind off it, he busied himself packing his gear bag with dirty training clothes from the past week. Something else he could do that weekend. Laundry. The joys. As he stuffed a clean pair of rugby socks into a zip pocket, the pill container fell out the side, landing with a click and rattle.

Fetching it from the floor, Padraig then placed it on the top shelf of his locker. At eye level, he swiveled the bottle until the label was at the front, his name clearly written on the prescription.
Padraig O’Neale. Take for pain as needed.

Coach had switched off all the lights on his way out except for Padraig’s row. Without the usual noise and smells, the place had become peaceful. Only the one halogen light above buzzed, spotlighting Padraig in a glow of decent light. Having spent half of his life in a locker room, he considered it a second home after the pitch. Even more so than his apartment near Cork City centre.

He debated whether to leave the last pill where it sat in his locker. Then considered throwing it in the rubbish bin. He breathed deep, summoning the strength that was there—somewhere.

The ticking of the clock became apparent as he stood there, warring with himself. In the end, he grabbed the bottle, loudly yelling, “Fuck!” then threw it in the bag, zipped it up, and bashed his way to the door, ricocheting off the locker benches with his gear bag.

Turning off the last light, he pushed open the door with anger and frustration boiling in his veins. When he turned the corner to the parking lot, he stopped abruptly. There was Gillian in a sundress, sunglasses, and bare feet, sitting on the hood of a green Ford Mustang.

Gillian had just been wondering if she should grab her Converse to drive in when the crunch of feet on gravel jolted her upright. It had to be Padraig. He was the only one left. Player after player had come out and cooed over the car, even Coach. Gillian had appreciated the rise of status in their eyes, some even flirting with her a bit. Dick had wanted to take it for a drive, but no way.

“Took your sweet time, didn’t you?” she asked as he approached.

Padraig stopped a few feet away from her. “I didn’t know you were waiting for me.”

“It was a surprise.”

“Is this yours?” He dropped his bag from his shoulder and circled the car, brushing his hand along the side.

She smiled and hopped off the hood. “Yep, all mine.”

“She’s a beauty. What year?”

“1969.”

He chuckled. “The best year.” Then paused. “You never said…”

“We never got around to it.”

Padraig nodded his head, casting his eyes away from her and back to the Mustang. “Yeah, I suppose we didn’t.”

“Will you come for a drive?”

“In this baby? Feck, yeah.”

“Good, because it’s important.”

His brows raised in surprise. “Really? What do you have planned?”

“You’ll have to come with me to see.”

Neither moved toward the other. It was the dance of the awkward and distant lovers, not yet reconciled, any joking shelved for the moment as each walked eggshells to determine the heart of the other.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay, but I’ve got to get Del’s car back to the house.”

“Leave it here.”

“At least let me move it under a street light. It’s a piece of junk, but Del will kill me if it gets stolen.”

“No one is going to take it. Trust me. And if someone did, he’d be happy for it. He could upgrade.” She laughed, but it was weak. Her courage was seeping out as fast as a bad oil leak.

“Seriously, Del has all this music from New Zealand in his glove box, and if the car goes, so does his precious music. I have to at least take that with me.”

“Fair enough. I’m glad to see you’re looking out for Del.”

He pinched his lips together and nodded.

Now, she’d done it, but he’d have to take it like a man. “I like your shirt.” She pulled at his sleeve, a soft tug, a tentative gesture. She couldn’t be cruel-to-be-kind for long.

He glanced down. It was his Munster rugby T-shirt with their logo of a blue and gold rugby ball with three crowns. A buck deer juxtaposed across the form of the ball.

“Oh right, thanks.”

“You’ll fit in perfectly where I’m taking you.” She was excited, but wondered how Padraig would take it all. Especially for what she had in mind.

“Now you have me wondering.”

“In a good or bad way?”

“Anything with you is in a good way.”

It was like a dart to the bull’s-eye of her heart, but she playfully punched him on the shoulder. “Aw shucks, you’re such a charmer.”

He laughed. “Not really.” He opened the side door and stooped to retrieve the CDs. Handing a bunch to Gillian to carry, he finished, “At least not anymore. I used to be.”

She rubbed his arm, the first skin contact they’d had in a week, and the impression of his warmth on her hand remained long after she had pulled it away. “You’ll get it back.”

Wisps of her hair blew across her face, but since her hands were full with music, she had no way of tucking it behind her ear as she normally did. Padraig balanced all that he had in one hand and did it for her. Instead of letting go, he cupped her neck and held on. He pulled at her gently, moving at the same time in her direction where he placed a soft kiss on her lips. It was an apology and a request at the same time—she understood.

She stepped closer and stood on her tippy toes to kiss him back, searching his mouth for the same questions she hoped he held for her.
Do you care for me? Do you want me back?

She broke the kiss abruptly, just as his hardness had reached her belly through his shorts. Not nice to leave him hanging, but she wanted to get on the road. “C’mon, let’s go.”

She laughed when Padraig jogged to the trunk of the Mustang where he shifted from foot to foot, like a little boy that had to pee, or one so excited he couldn’t sit still. When she opened the trunk, he dumped his gear bag and Del’s CDs, the plastic making an almighty clatter. She already had a small duffel and yoga mat packed, along with a large cooler and box of necessities.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Can I drive?”

How adorable, but… “No way.” Gillian laughed when he gave her a puppy-dog look. That had never worked on her, Andrew having tried numerous times to get her to help with his homework. And as sexy as Padraig was, she wasn’t going to give in now. Plus, this was her baby, and the first road trip should be all her pleasure. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you drive on the way back.”

“I’ll be good.” The way he said it implied lots of things, but nothing was more important than breaking his addiction.

She bit her lip in a smile. “I’m sure you will. Now get in.”

When he buckled up, she said, “Make yourself comfortable. We have a bit of a drive ahead of us.”

When they were out on the road, Padraig asked, “Are you still mad at me, like?”

“What’s with all the likes?”

“That’s how we talk from Cork.

She grabbed his hand from his lap. “I’m not angry anymore.”

He gave her a look as if  he didn’t believe it, but squeezed her hand in response. “Grand so.” He reached below the seat to pull the lever to push the chair back as far as it would go. When it got stuck and he yanked hard, she scolded, “Hey, easy there, she’s no young chicken.”

When the seat finally clicked into place, he folded his arms over his abdomen and let out a long, “Aaahhh.”

“Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks, I will.”

“See, why can’t everyone else see this side of you? It’s like there are two Padraigs.”

“There is. I’m like Father Ted and Dougal.”

“Father Ted?”

“Yeah, fucking brilliant Irish comedy. I’ll have my mum send over some DVDs for you to see. It’s hilarious.”

That was the most he’d ever offered her, but she tried hard not to let the thrill show. Still uncertain of his feelings, she needed to keep it light, but she’d hedge for some answers later. Sometimes, men needed a bit of a boost. “I’d love that.”

They were quickly out of the city limits heading north, rays of the sun flashing in and out of the car windows as they wove their way up Highway 31 to Charlevoix. Padraig seemed happy enough to watch the scenery pass by, and for the first time in forever, she felt like singing along to the music. She couldn’t resist and put on her old
80s Greatest Hits
.

“Let’s start with something upbeat.” She forwarded the CD until the Proclaimers came on. “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles).”

“Ah Jaysus, no.”

“You’re Irish. I thought you’d like this stuff. You got all into it when we were at the cabin.”

“I was drunk, and we’re swamped with that shite at home. Anyhoo, The Proclaimers are Scottish.”

“I knew that.” She didn’t. “Okay, how about this one?”

Madonna’s “Borderline” burst from the back speakers.

“Next!”

“But she’s so class. You steer while I pick.” She pulled the CD case from between the seats. “Go on then, grab the wheel.”

“Will you slow down at least?”

She didn’t. “You should be used to driving on that side of the car.”

“Ha-ha.”

“What about Bryan Adams?”

“Feck, no.”

“Why don’t men like Bryan Adams, one of the best songwriters of the 80s?”

“Too lovey-dovey.”

“Pfft. I’m sure you have a romantic side.”

He ran his hand through his hair, then gave his head a good scratch. “Maybe. You ready to take the wheel?”

The car wobbled as he tried to control it around a long curve. “Gillian, take the damn wheel or this beautiful car will be smashed on the side of the road with us in it.”

There was no way they were going to die. Karma didn’t work that way. Or the logarithm of life, whatever someone wanted to call it. “We haven’t picked yet.”

“Give me the case.”

“Jeesh, a bit grumpy again today?”

He snatched it out of her hand. “Now drive.”

She did, along the coast toward Charlevoix, the landscape spotted here and there with orchards. Padraig asked what type, and she told him either cherries or apples. Traverse City was the Cherry Capital, after all.

After passing through the small coastal town, they had continued northeast toward Petoskey when Padraig spoke up again. “There are some beautiful towns in Michigan.”

His comment gave her hope, even though it may have not been warranted, but it meant a lot to her that he found the same beauty in her home that she did.

They’d decided on random play, the only song that Padraig absolutely refused to listen to was Lionel Richie, and he had forwarded to the next song. “You gonna tell me where we’re going?”

Leaning over, she squeezed just above his knee. “Don’t worry, it’ll be grand, like you say.”

“Are we spending the night somewhere?”

Uh-oh, maybe this wasn’t the great idea she had daydreamed about. Maybe he didn’t think what Gillian thought he thought. Oh, fuck it, anyway. “We are.”

“Aren’t you working this weekend at all?”

What? Okay, they had their wires seriously crossed. “Nope, have the whole weekend off.”

He ran his hands roughly over his cheeks, then around his neck and pulled at his shoulder muscles.

Uncertainty and embarrassment warred for top spot in Gillian’s heart. “I didn’t think you had any other plans this weekend…. I should have asked….” Shit, what had she been thinking? That he had no other life than her? That because he was from Ireland, he wouldn’t have made any other plans on such a big weekend? “I’m sorry. I can turn around and take us back if you want. Did you have other plans?” She thumped the steering wheel. “This was stupid of me. You might be meeting up with others. I didn’t even think….”

“I didn’t have anything planned. In fact, I was dreading the long weekend with nothing to do. And now here I am, with the only person I wanted to see.” His words were like toothpaste on a mosquito bite.

She smiled, and without taking her eyes from the road, reached over and twined her fingers with his, squeezing gently before releasing to put her hand back on the steering wheel. But did he mean it? She hated this typical crap in relationships. All the wondering and nerves. Screw any of that. She’d forge ahead. “You’ll love it. I know. My brother and I would go with my dad in the summer to fish and canoe when we were younger. We pretended to track moose and bear, but I don’t think my dad would have us anywhere near them. We didn’t know that, though. Gave my mom a weekend to herself every now and then. I didn’t understand that back in the day. All I could see was adventure and precious time with my dad. And my brother, but we drove each other nuts usually.”

“Fish and canoe? Moose and bear? Sweet divine, where are you taking me?”

There was desperation in his voice, which Gillian didn’t understand. It both saddened her and put her on the defensive. She’d gone to great trouble getting the car ready, packing groceries and supplies, timing to get him over the bridge, show him something other than Traverse City. And he acted like it was a chore. “It’s lovely and private, but I don’t want to say much more, or it will give it away.”

It came out cold, but he didn’t seem to notice. “So this place isn’t really in a town, eh?”

With every question, doubt crept further into her head and heart. All she could do was carry through and hope for the best.

Finally, she took the large loop onto 75 heading north, the sun almost directly to their left. The weekend was supposed to thrill Padraig, and if she didn’t get a move on, she’d miss the next surprise she had planned. So she sped up and started passing traffic.

“What’s the rush?”

“The sun is going to set soon.”

“As it normally does.”

“Don’t be cheeky, as you say.”

“Me? Cheeky? I’m a good boy, miss.”

His lightheartedness revived her hope in the weekend, and she laughed. “You’ll see, not much longer.”

The highway ended, merging into Mackinaw City limits. Gillian kept an eye on the sunset to her left, but all she hit were red lights and slow traffic. “C’mon, c’mon move it already!”

She could feel his eyes on her, but she was too busy concentrating on navigating Mackinaw City traffic to explain. When they finally stopped to pay the bridge toll, Gillian motioned in front of her. “Mackinaw Bridge, the fifth longest suspension bridge in the world.”

“Pretty impressive.”

“The bridge connects the lower and upper peninsulas.” As they accelerated up the hill, where there had been one tower became two. Cables were suspended between the massive cement stanchions with others hanging vertically, disappearing over the sides. Opposing lanes of traffic squeezed into smaller lanes once they were upon the suspension, metal barricades down the center separating the cars. There was something exhilarating about crossing a large bridge, being up in the air, the view, the anticipation of the other side. She drew a deep breath, as if it was cleaner from this altitude.