Allison Parr - Running Back

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He smirked at me. “Besides, if that’s all you’re looking for...”

Energy sizzled through me. I sucked in a deep breath and then tried to play it off casually. “You don’t have the accent.”

He faked one immediately. “Come on, love. Give a bloke a chance.”

My breath caught and my cheeks flushed, but not at the accent. No, it was Michael O’Connor calling me “love” that made my pulse race.

He scowled. “Unless you have something against redheads?”

I reached out and touched an auburn curl. “Not at all.”

He looked up at me and I realized how close we stood. I cleared my throat and stepped back. “So did you say anything when Anna mentioned Paul’s attractiveness?”

“I got in trouble because I said, ‘Don’t you have a boyfriend?’ and she got all pissed and ran off. Apparently they broke up because I made her come to Ireland.”

I smiled up at him. He looked kind of adorable when he was worked up over his sisters. “I take it you find fault with that version of the story?”

“Lauren’s the one who insisted we come. Called me up the second Patrick kicked the bucket and demanded I call it in as a family death to Coach and we take a vacation. Besides, it’s good for Anna to be away from him.”

I raised my brows. “You ever get tired of trying to control people?”

He sat up. “Not like it ever works.”

I rolled over. “You shouldn’t, you know. With your family.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly. “For that solicited and appreciated piece of advice. And I support them, I don’t control them.”

“Even your mom? Or do you have a tendency to forget she’s the parent?”

“I’m an adult. I should contribute.”

“And let me guess. You’ve been an adult since your dad died. You don’t have to try so hard to be perfect.”

He looked out at the sea. “That’s where you’re wrong. I just left. I wasn’t perfect at all.”

So he felt like he’d abandoned them after his father’s death and tried to sooth it over with money. God, families were the worst. I plucked up a flower and tugged off its petals. “My dad used to take me to Leopards’ games.”

“What?”

I scooted so I also faced the water. Above us, birds cried out, swooping and diving through the air. “He was always in such a good mood. Football was so unlike the rest of my life...where everything was quiet and tense, and if people were angry they wouldn’t talk about it. At games, guys would just beat the hell out of one another. It was very...cathartic.”

I shook my head. “I thought the game was wonderful. Dad would get so worked up. I’m sure you know. I remember—I must have been twelve, thirteen—he picked me up and whirled me around in the air. The whole stadium turned before me. That’s what I always associated football with. Magic.” Warmth.

“Do you still go with him?”

“Oh, no. It wasn’t really about us. It was really him and my brothers, and I tagged along.”

“The thing that you said wasn’t really a big deal.”

“Right.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Shocked, I turned to face him. He’d sat forward, propping his elbows on his knees, while his arms hung loosely between them. He had the same intensity as when we’d first met and he’d denied me Kilkarten, an intensity I never would’ve imagined just from seeing him on the screen. I slowly raised my gaze to his. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “You didn’t want to go home in New York. You don’t want to have a home. You’re bitter about your family.”

I stared at him, stunned. “And apparently I talk too much.”

He laughed. “So? You know all about my family. Now it’s your turn.”

What did I say to that? I took a deep breath, feeling wobbly and light. “I had a great childhood. Everything I ever needed. Everything anyone could want.”

“But...?”

I shrugged. “My brothers are great. Peter’s married and lives in DC, and Quinn travels almost as much as I do. Evan—he’s only three years older—lives in New York, though. But I always feel like I want to see them more than they want to see me.”

“But you’re clearly not happy.”

A small butterfly, with the coloring of a Monarch but different patterns, fluttered nearby, coming to rest on a purple thistle. Tiny blue dots fringed its wings. “Well. My brothers—half brothers—don’t get along with our dad. He left their mom. And he’s not easy to like—stiff and stuck up and homophobic, even though he pretends he’s not, but he and Evan barely talk anymore. But I didn’t know how non-functional we were when I was little. I just knew how happy I was at the games.”

He twisted to look at me, a thinking smile on his lips. “Do you think my family’s functional?”

I nodded. “And warm. Angry, sometimes, but at least they’re not cold. And they like you. Isn’t that what this is about? Lauren said she wanted to come here to bond. They probably just want to spend time with you, not spend your money.”

He frowned and picked a flower too. “I didn’t even know I should be worrying about Mom until Lauren pointed it out. Now I worry all the time. Is she lonely? Unhappy?”

My shoulders rose and fell. “Maybe that’s just life. No one’s happy. Maybe everything gets stale and sad.”

“What, like we’re pieces of bread? No. I don’t believe it.”

“Why not?” I thought of my parents in their big, sad house. “Especially when we push our relationships past their expiration dates.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, you know. Love only lasts a handful of years. Like, four.”

Fierce lines creased his brow, and his gaze darkened. “That’s bullshit.”

I fell back down in the grass, the sky stretching endlessly above me. The sweet smell of the flower I’d torn up tickled my nose. “Why? It’s biological. You mate, raise young together, and then go your own ways after the kids can take care of themselves.”

“We’re not animals.”

“Well, we’re not plants.”

He frowned at me. “Okay, what about swans? They mate for life.”

“They also fly.”

He stared at me like I was insane. “So—you don’t believe relationships last past four years?”

I toyed with the grass. “Of course they do. I just don’t think we’re biologically meant for life-long monogamy.”

“My parents had the best relationship in the world.”

I shrugged as best I could from my prone position. “I’m not trying to argue. And I don’t expect you to agree with me.”

He looked offended. “But you think I’m being naïve.”

That was awkwardly uncomfortable enough that I sat upright and cleared my throat. “I don’t think you’re naïve. And I’m not anti-relationship. I actually think it’s a very—nice—idea, but it’s also encultured. I mean, I’m not surprised you believe in it—your community is very, uh, conservative, with traditional values—”

“Nat. You’re being offensive.”

“I’m not trying to be offensive, I’m just saying, I studied anthropology—”

“Which is not a golden ticket to judge people.”

“I’m not judging! I just—I’m trying to point out that you have a bias—which is normal, everyone has biases, it’s part of being human—but it’s important to recognize your bias and understand when it comes into play—”

He stood. “Well, maybe part of your bias is that your parents have an unhappy marriage so you don’t believe there could actually be happy ones.”

“Below the belt.”

His gaze dropped below the belt, and I flushed when he raised his eyes again, hot and steady. I cleared my throat and looked away. “And, okay, probably a valid point.”