Chapter 5

“Rory, show him the leg lock. He’s all over the place,” Seamus ordered from the side of the ring where he and Ace were watching Rory and Kane square off, part of Kane’s training at Legends.

“He isn’t ready, Pop. He hasn’t got a simple mount perfected yet,” Rory responded, trying to ignore his father.

He knew his father had been a famous boxer and had valuable insight, but his expectations for his sons had always been too high. Rory hadn’t even wanted to train Kane or be back at Legends in the first place, but if he was going to do this, he damn sure wasn’t about to take directions when he was the only one in the room who was a world-class expert in it.

“What the hell do you mean I’m not ready? The mount doesn’t have to be fucking perfect, Rory. Shit, I’ve been mounting things since I was fifteen behind the bleachers at school.” Kane needled him further.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Kane. Everything is a damn joke to you. If you want to be the best, it has to be perfect.” Rory dropped his hands and glared at his brother, not hiding his irritation.

Seamus interrupted them. “Just show him the leg lock; you can go back to the mount later.”

“Pop, seriously? Would you rather train him?” Rory marched over to the side of the ring, approaching his father.

Seamus sighed. “Damn, kid, do you always have to be in charge?”

“Fine, you be in charge.” Rory yanked the wraps off his hands and wrists, dropping them onto the ring floor, and then climbed out.

Sliding past his father, Rory decided he was done for the day. He really couldn’t stand being told what to do, and he didn’t even want to be back in a ring.

He heard Kane calling after him, but tuned it out entirely. Reaching the front door of the club, he punched it hard, almost knocking it off its hinges when it flew open. He paused for a second and grabbed the door, keeping it open a second longer to make sure it didn’t hit Ace, who was close on his heels.

He needed out of there. It was time for a change.

Rory left Legends and headed home, his only thought on the pain radiating up his leg. He had forgotten to bring pills with him to the gym, so he was glad to be headed home early since his knee was throbbing from several hours of working out with Kane.

His fists were also aching from nearly breaking the door, but he enjoyed that feeling. He loved the pain he felt in his hands from destroying something, although normally he preferred it being someone’s face instead of a metal door. He couldn’t change that he was a fighter to his very core.

His apartment was off East 235th Street, still in the Woodlawn neighborhood of the Bronx and only a few short blocks away, but the trek seemed to be taking forever as he cringed with each step. The more he concentrated on the pain, the worse his knee felt. Relief washed through him as he saw O’Hara’s Liquor coming up on the right. Checking his watch, he saw it was almost ten in the morning, so the store was probably open.

“Rory, first customer of the morning! And Ace, hi, boy. The usual?” Charlie O’Hara surveyed his best customer from behind the counter and pulled a bottle of whiskey off the shelf behind him.

“Yep, thanks, Charlie.” Rory pulled his wallet out of his pocket, separating out a few bills and handing them over.

“Anytime, Rory. How’s the leg feeling?” Charlie asked as he leaned over the counter to smile at Ace, the same pity on his face that Rory had always hated seeing anytime someone mentioned his injury.

“Same as always.” He held up the whiskey bottle, indicating the state of his knee. Charlie just nodded as Rory left with the whiskey in a brown paper bag.

Rory continued home, but twisted off the top of the bottle and held it up to his lips. The burning liquid slid down his throat and the brown paper bag rustled from the movement. He screwed the cap back on, enjoying the warm sensation in his stomach that he knew would soon distract him from the pain in his leg.

Rory and Ace entered his apartment and Rory headed straight to his nightstand, pulling out three miraculous white pills and swallowing them. He chased them with several more swigs of whiskey, then plopped onto the bed face-first, bottle still in his hand. He closed his eyes, savoring the numbing feeling as he drifted off to sleep.

Rory grunted in pain as he lifted his head off the bed. He sat up and noticed the bottle of whiskey lying on his bed; it was almost entirely empty, except for a few sips at the bottom. He vaguely remembered waking up a few times during his nap to use the bathroom and get some food, drinking more and more each time. Figuring he shouldn’t waste good liquor, he unscrewed the top and finished it off as he stood, stepped over his sleeping dog, and pulled open the curtains in his bedroom.

He instantly regretted it. The bright sunshine smashed against his face, blinding him and reminding him that the world had kept turning despite his angry mood. Stepping back, he tossed the bottle into a nearby trash can and swayed over to his large walk-in closet. He stripped, pulling on a fresh pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt, then headed to his home gym on the opposite side of his apartment.

About a year ago, he had purchased the other three apartments on the top floor of the four-story walk-up. Knocking down several walls, he had transformed it into one large penthouse with four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a den, an office, and a gym, plus the usual kitchen, living room, and dining room. While he might not be a professional fighter anymore, he still enjoyed a luxurious lifestyle, thanks to the money he had earned during his career.

The gym was his favorite part of the renovation, having been equipped specifically with weights, machines, and other training equipment per his physical therapist’s instructions. He didn’t use it often since he was at Legends so much, but today he was itching to hit the punching bag alone.

With every step he took since waking up, he could feel the pulse in his leg like a serrated knife sliding back and forth slowly against his calf muscle. Grinding his teeth, he pushed through it for several hours as he punished the bag with his fists, forcing away the fog that had fallen over him after drinking so much.

With everything he had in him, he tried to delay taking more pills to dull the ache that was turning into full-blown thunder slamming through his body, but the hours began to wear on him. He tried distracting himself by taking Ace out on a few walks around the neighborhood, but he couldn’t pull his mind away from what he really wanted.

By the evening, Rory resorted to a few pills with a couple bottles of beer that he found hiding in the back of his fridge. When all was said and done, he opened his curtains again to find that it was pitch black outside except for a few streetlights illuminating the road.

Rory turned the clock on his nightstand to face him and frowned. It was almost midnight. Clare would be getting off work soon. He headed into his bathroom and brushed his teeth, then pulled off his gym clothes and hopped into the shower.

Twenty minutes later, Rory was clean and in fresh clothes, pushing out the front door with Ace to escort Clare home for the second night in a row. As he filed alongside his canine best friend, he became more and more excited about seeing Clare. He hadn’t told her that he would be there again, but he was pretty sure she would be happy to see him.

At least he hoped she would.

Arriving in front of O’Leary’s a few minutes before one in the morning, he leaned against a light post to wait for Clare, Ace dutifully sitting next to him as if he already knew the drill. He briefly considered going in, but then remembered that Jimmy had warned him not to go anywhere near Cian after he had just punched him. He snickered to himself at the memory, glad to have wiped that smug sneer off the bartender’s face.

“What are you smiling at?” Clare’s soft voice broke through his thoughts.

“Just thinking of your gorgeous face, mhuirnín.” He tried to convince her with his most charming smile as she rounded the corner.

He met her halfway and slid his hand around her waist, giving her a quick squeeze as he pulled her closer to him. She shivered at his touch, sending a heat wave through his body as he contemplated just cupping her chin in his hand and kissing her right then and there.

“Liar, what were you really smiling at?” She pulled away from him and began walking, making him catch up to her.

“All right, I was thinking about punching your boss,” he admitted.

Clare’s head snapped around, her eyes searching his face to see if he was serious. When she realized he was, she giggled and smacked his arm lightly.

“I wouldn’t even mind anymore. He is so frustrating to work for.”

“I don’t doubt it; he seems like the type. Casey used to complain all the time about working for him, when she was younger.”

“What are you doing here again, anyway?” Clare abruptly changed the subject.

“Good to see you, too,” he said sarcastically.

“I’m serious. I am capable of walking myself home, you know.”

“In the middle of the night? In Woodlawn? I don’t think so, Clare. Not as long as you’re with me.” He responded so quickly that he hadn’t really thought through what he had just said, realizing it only when Clare blinked in surprise.

“I’m with you?” she said, slowly repeating his words back to him.

“Well, you are right now, aren’t you? Or am I dreaming this?” He grinned, hoping he could play off his forward statement with a joke.

“The best dream of your life.”

He knew that she was letting him off the hook. “Don’t I know it. But I’m not just here to walk you home.”

Clare raised one brow, questioning.

“I want to show you something—it’s a surprise. Only a slight detour from where you live.”

“You want me to go with a strange man somewhere I don’t know in the middle of the night? Isn’t that the kind of thing you’re supposed to be helping me stay away from?” she teased.

“Maybe, if I was a stranger.” He found himself instantly frustrated at her statement although he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, except that he didn’t want her to think of him as a stranger, ever.

Deciding that he wasn’t going to have that, he stopped in his tracks and turned to her abruptly. Ace nearly collided with his legs, but Rory paid him no mind. Grabbing her elbow, Rory stepped toward her, forcing her to step back until she was met with the brick wall of a building. Trapping her on the sidewalk, he placed one arm on either side of her against the building, a position he knew affected her as much as it affected him.

“What are you doing?” She sounded out of breath as her big green eyes stared up at him with a mixture of what he thought might be some fear, but definitely arousal.

“You think I’m a stranger?” He felt his voice rumble in his chest as it lowered when he leaned in to her. His lips were inches from hers, but he wasn’t going to give her the release he could see she wanted.

“Tell me, Clare.”

“Tell you what?” She seemed as if he had just snapped her out of a daydream as she blinked quickly and cleared her throat, trying to straighten herself.

His looming presence over her made that impossible, especially when he pushed his body even closer against hers, keeping her locked against the wall. He could feel her chest heaving against his, causing a low rumble to travel through his body in response.

“Do you trust me?” he said, clarifying the real point of his question.

He watched her eyes dart down to his lips and then back up as she nibbled on the corner of her lip. It was taking all the self-control he had not to join her in tasting those lips.

“Yes,” she whispered, barely audible.

“Say it again, Clare,” he commanded, pushing one hand behind her back and arching her against him.

“I trust you,” she repeated, slightly louder this time and in a breathy voice. He searched her eyes as she spoke and was pleased to see that she was telling the truth. She really did trust him.

He wasn’t a stranger.

He knew that it was odd that this meant so much to him, but he felt like he had shown more of himself to this woman than he had shown to his family lately. He trusted her implicitly, though for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. So, when he realized she might not feel the same way, the thought drove him crazy and he had to find out. Seeing how her body responded to him, and the honesty in her eyes, he was sure now that she was feeling the exact same things that he was.

Thank God.

Releasing her, he stepped backward and motioned for Ace to join him as he grabbed Clare’s hand and pulled her along with them. “You’ve got to stop doing that to me.” She breathed loudly, trying to collect herself by smoothing the hair off her face. “That’s two nights in a row.”

“Doing what?”

“You know what.” And he did, but he wasn’t going to let her have that so easily.

“You’re going to have to spell it out for me, mhuirnín.”

“I find it hard to believe that your little stunt of trapping me between a rock and a hard place, literally, is accidental. You clearly know what it does to me,” she huffed, blushing.

“Am I the rock? Or the hard place?”

“Hell if I know,” she said with a smirk, her anger subsiding as he teased her.

They were quiet for a few blocks, holding hands and feeling the cold air on their skin. It was silent, but it wasn’t awkward. It was just comfortable, as if they both had suddenly reached a level of familiarity with each other that hadn’t been there minutes before.

“So where are you taking me?” Clare was the first to break the silence.

“My favorite place for late-night dessert. It’s right around this next block,” he indicated.

“Rory, it’s the middle of the night. Everything around here is closed.”

“That’s the only time that Wheaten is open. Their hours are from eleven at night until four in the morning,” he told her as they turned the next corner.

“What? Why? That’s so weird—how do they stay in business that way?” Questions tumbled out of her, but he didn’t answer because as they turned the corner, she would definitely see how and why.

The local storefront was just a counter opened up to patrons on the sidewalk. There were several lamps set up out front and a few iron chairs and small tables surrounding the counter. Despite the late hour and the quiet surroundings, the store had attracted a large crowd of people, all either waiting in line to order or sitting and enjoying their food with friends.

“Wow. I’ve walked past this several times and never would have guessed.”

“It’s a Woodlawn hidden gem. The majority of the neighborhood is Irish; this is one of our favorite dishes.”

“What is it?”

“Soda bread. Wheaten has tons of different flavors and types, some traditional and some not. My favorite is the cinnamon raisin,” he told her, pointing to a glass display case that held the assortment.

Clare stepped around Ace to see the display better while Rory got in line. He didn’t need to see the display or even read the menu to know what he wanted, since he had come here so often over the years and tried it all.

“I think I’m going to go for the chocolate.” She nodded her head decisively as she turned back to him. He smiled at the excitement in her eyes and ordered for both of them when they got to the front.

A few minutes later, they took their servings over to an empty table a few feet away from one of the lamps on the outskirts of the crowd. He waited for Clare to try her soda bread before he started, enjoying watching her face light up at the sweet new experience.

“This is really good.” She nodded at him. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“It’s about time you got to know your neighborhood a bit better.”

“I didn’t see you at Legends this morning. Are you still training?” Clare asked as she crossed one leg over her knee and leaned against the table, taking another bite of her treat.

“I was there for a bit, left kind of early.” The fight with his father and brother didn’t bear mentioning.

“There’s something in that story that you’re not telling me.”

“How do you know that?” He was curious, but determined to keep the truth at bay.

“Easy. You reek of booze.”

“Damn, why don’t you tell me how you really feel? I just showered, you know,” he quipped, polishing off the last of his soda bread.

“Showering only helps if you spill a drink on yourself, not if your body is ninety percent alcohol.”

“Someone thinks they know everything.” He felt annoyed, but mostly embarrassed, trying to detour the topic as best he could.

“Why do you do it?” she asked softly, after a minute of silence passed between them.

“Why do I drink?”

She nodded. He paused, thinking about it for a moment and clearing his throat.

“I don’t know. It helps me. I have a lot of pain in my leg from my last fight.” Flashes of the fight ran through his mind as he saw his knee being broken, snapping with a resounding crack as it bent in the wrong direction under his opponent’s force.

“The championship fight against Santiago?”

“Yeah, seems like everyone knows about the biggest failure of my life. Took most of a year of physical therapy to be able to walk normally, but the pain is still there.” He didn’t enjoy the topic and was just glad that she didn’t know about the prescription pills he currently held in his pocket.

Clare reached one hand across the table and slipped her fingers through his, giving him a small squeeze. He hugged his fingers tighter around hers, not letting her pull away, loving the feeling of touching her. Rory honestly couldn’t think of another time that he had ever held a girl’s hand before tonight. In fact, he recalled making fun of some of his friends who were in relationships for doing just that.

Was that what this was now? Two nights in a row with the same woman was almost a record for him. Was he in a relationship?

He wouldn’t mind it if he was.

He gazed up from their hands and saw a relaxed, yet sympathetic, smile on her face. Her green eyes shimmered in the moonlight and her pale skin was even lighter against the dark backdrop of the night. She was mesmerizing, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting her infiltrate the walls he had carefully built up around himself to keep everyone away.

“I dropped out of college; that’s my biggest failure,” she said, breaking the moment with her admission.

“Really? That’s not that big a deal—plenty of people do it.”

“It’s a big deal to me. I really wanted to be a veterinarian. I spent my entire life around animals and worked as a technician for a while, but being a vet was always the end goal.”

He squeezed her hand a bit tighter.

“You can go back—you’re still young. How old are you?”

“Twenty-four. I know I can; it just is a big thing to have to start over. I’m already barely managing starting over in a new state and a new life here,” she confessed.

“Where were you before?” He pried a little.

“California. I have a friend who owns my apartment here,” she explained. “She’s letting me rent it from her while she’s living in Manhattan and finishing up at New York University.”

“That’s where I got my master’s in business,” he commented absently. She paused, surprise and confusion on her face.

“You have a graduate degree?” She seemed stunned.

“Don’t look so surprised. I’m not some meathead jock, you know.”

“Sorry, I guess that was rude. I’m impressed.”

He just nodded, never knowing how to take a compliment.

“Of course now that just makes me feel worse about only having a high school diploma, you jerk.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“That’s not what I was trying to do.”

“I know, I know. I will go back to school soon. I just need to save up some before I can—sort some stuff out, you know?” Her explanation was vague, and it made him wonder if there was more there that he didn’t know about.

“How did you pay for school before?” he asked.

“I had fewer expenses; all of my income went straight to school.”

“You lived with your parents?”

“No, my parents died in a car crash when I was seventeen. They were actually on their way home from my soccer game—I used to love to play. After that, I lived with a boyfriend…”

Her voice trailed off as Rory stood up and pulled her chair over to him, closing the space between them. His one hand was still interlocked with hers. He slipped his free hand around her waist and pressed her hand against his chest. The rest of her body was flush against him, almost sitting in his lap, warming his skin where she made contact. He saw her chest rising and falling faster than before as he let a moment pass between them without saying anything, ignoring the crowd surrounding them, just staring into her big eyes.

“Clare, I’m so sorry.” His words were soft and slow, laced with concern and sincerity.

He saw tears building over her lower eyelashes, but she batted them back quickly before pulling away.

“Don’t worry about me.” She stood up and he followed suit, as they picked up their empty plates and trashed them.

“Don’t do that, Clare,” he said after they stepped away from the crowd, heading back down the street the way they had come, Ace by their side.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re shutting me out. I saw you. You stopped yourself from crying in front of me—you don’t need to do that.”

Clare gave him a small smile. Her eyes shone under the moonlight as she and Rory meandered through the neighborhood. He was barely able to concentrate on where he was stepping, because all he wanted to do was admire her beautiful eyes.

“It’s not about not letting you in, Rory. It’s about being afraid to let myself out. I’ve lived behind certain walls my whole life; I’m safe there. Something about you is trying to change that, and I don’t know why I’m letting it.” He loved her honesty and the way she admitted her fears to him, causing him to grab her hand in his again. She didn’t pull away this time, and he was glad because he wouldn’t have let her.

“You said you trusted me,” he reminded her.

“I do.” She stopped as they reached a corner underneath a streetlamp and he pulled her to him.

“Then let me behind your walls. Let me be your walls. You’re safe with me.”

He knew he couldn’t wait another day; he had tried his best to resist the urge to steal every part of her body and make it his. Gazing at her glistening green eyes, perfect small nose, and pouty rose lips, he knew he couldn’t contain himself a minute longer.

Leaning down while keeping hold of her focus, he let his lips graze hers for a moment. Just a soft pass, as if asking her for permission to continue. The moan that escaped her at the contact was all the approval he needed.

Snaking one hand behind her waist and pulling her toward him, he slid his other hand behind her head. Dipping down, his lips found hers and the two moved together as if they had kissed a thousand times before.

They seemed to understand each other’s movements and wants immediately, as if they had been molded just for each other and once they found each other, no one else would ever fit again.

It might have been only seconds long, or maybe hours. Rory couldn’t tell. He was completely lost in what felt like the first kiss of his entire life, which it certainly wasn’t. He felt renewed, like something had changed in him at a core level. As if he was becoming something new. Or maybe he was finally letting free the man he had always been, but had kept hidden from the world.

Either way, he loved it, and when he finally pulled away from her, it was too soon. A small whine left her lips from the loss of contact, telling him she felt the same way.

“Come on, let’s get you home before I really lose control.” He grabbed her hand and started across the street.

“Yes, sir.” She giggled, trying to keep up with his fast pace.

He moaned at the sound. “Clare…” Everything about her calling him sir was really pushing his limits. “That is not helping.”

She just laughed in response and he was sure he could feel it sweep through every part of himself. Her laughter had its own beat, its own music that strummed through his veins. Rory tried to clear his head as they rounded the corner, approaching her apartment building.

“Thanks for walking me home again. I really appreciate it.” She paused. “I had to scrap my car today. Mechanics said it was cheaper just to buy a new one, so I sold the piece of crap for parts.” Her voice went back to normal, pretending that they hadn’t just had a very intimate moment together.

“That officially makes you a New Yorker. No one around here drives.”

“I kind of like the sound of that.”

She seemed to be a million miles away in her head and he wished she would take him with her. He wanted to explore every part of her and learn everything that made her the woman before him. He could see that whatever the problem was, she clearly didn’t want to talk about it. He figured he had pried enough for the night.

“This is me.” They reached the front of her apartment building a few moments later and she pulled her keys out of her jacket pocket.

Rory grabbed the keys out of her hand and opened the door for her, holding it in place by leaning against it. She stepped through, then turned around as he handed her back her keys. She paused, seeming unsure of what she wanted to say, or if she wanted to say it, so he stayed quiet and waited.

“Rory?” Her voice was soft and her expression had a sadness to it while she fiddled with her keys.

“Yes, mhuirnín?” He smiled at her, still leaning against the open door.

“Losing to Santiago wasn’t a failure. Losing yourself to alcohol is.” She spoke softly as she took a step toward him and pushed up on the tip of her toes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

He was surprised at her words as the door closed between them. He stepped back onto the sidewalk where Ace was waiting for him, then headed home, repeating her words in his head the entire way. His expression was troubled, as she made him feel emotions he had spent many years locking away. He sighed, knowing that Clare was probably right.

What bothered him the most was the disappointment he had seen in her eyes. It was a look that he had seen dozens of times from friends and family, but something about seeing it on Clare hurt more. She was different and made him feel different.

Something was changing in him. Clare was changing him, and yet it felt familiar. It felt safe, like he had known her all his life. He knew almost nothing about her, but with every conversation it was as if he was remembering something he had long ago forgotten. He found himself wanting to remember who he was, and he had a feeling that he could do that only through her eyes.