The Cassidy Brothers Read online

  “You must be stressed a lot then.” Her eyelashes fluttered, a pink tinge to her cheeks.

  I let out a grunt. “I guess.”

  “I’ve always wanted to be stronger, feel stronger,” she admitted, a strange note in her voice.

  “We have a home gym at the house.”

  “I don’t know how to use any of it. Could…you show me?”

  Images of standing behind Orla spotting her, my hands on hers showing her how to grip the bar, our sweaty bodies in close proximity, her grunts of effort in my ear as she pushed…

  No. These heated thoughts turned my blood to ice in my veins. This couldn’t happen. I couldn’t open my heart up to this woman again. She wasn’t going to stick around. Hadn’t she said that she just needed a place to stay temporarily? That she needed to figure out her future?

  It didn’t sound like she planned for that future to include me, so I had to keep up the wall between us. It was the only way to protect myself.

  “Not a chance in hell,” I barked.

  Orla stumbled back as if I’d slapped her, barely concealed tears in her eyes. “Well, I guess I could ask one of the other boys to help me.”

  The thought of either of my brothers putting their hands on her made me want to break this perfect tree in half with my bare hands. “Girls don’t belong in the weight room,” I said, hating myself instantly.

  She gasped. “You…you don’t mean that.”

  “I do,” I lied.

  I took a step away from Orla, putting physical distance between us even as I tried to shut down these warring emotions inside me. It killed me to see her stare at me with such hurt and disappointment in her eyes. I almost blurted out the truth. I almost fell to my knees before her to beg her forgiveness for such a sexist and untrue comment. But I didn’t.

  Orla licked her lips and lifted up her chin. “I don’t know what is going on with you, Aogán Johnathan Cassidy, but I don’t believe for a second that you are that kind of man.”

  No matter how hard I tried to push her away, no matter how hard I tried to be the worst kind of man in front of her, she still believed I was good.

  I’d never hated myself more than in that moment.

  “I’m going to go pay for the tree,” I mumbled. “See you at the car.” I practically ran away from her like the coward I was.

  Bringing her with me had been a bad idea. I needed to make sure we weren’t left alone again. No more solo outings. No more hanging around the kitchen early mornings. I needed to stay the hell away from Orla. And she needed to stay the hell away from me.

  Orla

  Aogán had returned to his cold, steely self once again, and the car ride home was as frigid as the land. I could practically see our frosty breaths in that tight space. More than the unkind things he said to me, his sudden withdrawal hurt the most.

  There had been a few moments when we were at the tree lot that things between us felt normal, the way they used to. He’d even laughed, and my heart had soared, knowing that I had drawn that deep melodic sound out of him.

  Then, for some reason, he snapped and withdrew, shutting me out again. He was breaking my heart over and over again. Even though he was the oldest sibling and seven years my senior, I had always been closest to him of all the brothers. He never treated me like a younger sister, but like an equal. He had given me my first kiss and my young, foolish heart had dreamed of a future with him. That was before my life had taken a drastic turn for the worse.

  Back at the house, Tristan came out to the car to help me unload groceries with a shy, quiet smile. I was starting to see that he was always thoughtful like that, instinctively knowing what I needed before I had to ask.

  Aogán enlisted Donncha’s help getting the tree inside, barking orders at him like a drill sergeant. I spotted Donncha’s clenched jaw and narrowed eyes when he glared at Aogán. Aogán didn’t. Something was going on between them, but I wasn’t sure it was my place to ask either of them about it. Aogán would likely bite my head off if I tried.

  And Donncha…he never seemed to want to talk about anything serious with me, always cracking jokes instead and diffusing any gravity with frivolous banter. Not that I minded. I loved being around Donncha for that reason; all the heaviness of life just slipped off my shoulders for those precious moments.

  Once the tree was set up in the living room, Donncha disappeared upstairs. I heard Aogán tell Tristan that he’d look for the decorations in the attic before he was gone as well. Tristan slipped outside, heading for the pole barn minutes later. I wasn’t sure what he was always doing out there, but I figured I’d get around to exploring it later.

  It troubled me that the three men seemed to avoid spending any time together. Was this what life was like for them in Dublin? Even though they worked in the same company? Where did their closeness go?

  I stayed in the kitchen, making a hearty stew for dinner, thinking too long over troubles that weren’t mine. I should be more worried about what I was going to do after Christmas, and my welcome was over.

  Still, the problems with the Cassidy boys seemed so much more important right now. I cared about them. Really cared. And I couldn’t switch it off.

  I made sure to set the table for four and even dish out the stew and bread before I called the men to the table. I had only been back here for two days, but I had realised that even mealtimes weren’t shared unless they had to be. They each preferred to grab a plate and scatter.

  Not tonight.

  I made them sit down around the table with me.

  It was quiet at the table except for the sounds of clanking spoons and chewing. Even Donncha, who could talk underwater with marbles in his mouth, didn’t do much to help me keep the conversation going.

  “So, where are your parents at the moment?” I asked, trying a new topic of conversation after three failed attempts to get them engaged.

  “Sailing around the world,” Donncha replied from across the table. He and Aogán were on one side, while Tristan and I were on the other.

  “More specifically, they were in the Grand Canaries when we talked to them two days ago,” Aogán added.

  “And they plan to sail here?” I asked.

  “Yeah, taking the long way around, I guess. They won’t be here until right before Christmas,” Donncha said.

  “Which I think was their plan all along,” Aogán added, “to ditch us.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  No one answered my question, but I didn’t really need them to. If I picked up on the tension between the men in just two days, their parents had surely noticed, too. No doubt they’d thought some forced time together would help.

  Or not… I glanced around the table. Every single pair of eyes was avoiding the other. Dinner was almost done, and things between them were still stilted. They used to be so close…helping each other around the house, training together, playing together. Wait…they used to play together.

  The guys had instruments and they used to perform cover songs together, sometimes even originals. They’d play mostly at home on a Sunday evening, but at events, too, like their parents’ wedding anniversary and my birthday. They had real talent, especially Donncha, who had a gorgeous singing voice.

  “Do you guys still play music?” I asked. They had talked about trying to get gigs at a few local pubs and bars, but I had no idea if they continued to play together after I left.

  There was a moment of quiet before Tristan answered, “We haven’t done that in a long time.”

  “But you still have the instruments?”

  “Of course,” Donncha said. “They’re stored in the cellar, I think.”

  “Why don’t you guys play for a while after you’re finished eating.”

  “What, like the three of us? Together?” Donncha asked.

  Tristan said nothing.

  “I don’t know…” Aogán said, eyeing his brothers across the table.

  I waited, but he didn’t continue. Neither did the other two. That didn�
��t surprise me. They weren’t going to come out and admit that they didn’t want to spend time together. This friction wasn’t the kind of thing that was talked about, it simmered beneath the surface.

  “It’s settled, then.” I stood and shot them each a smile. “I can’t wait to hear you guys play.”

  Donncha looked like he was going to protest, but when I met his eyes, he lost his nerve. Aogán scowled, but the defiant look I gave him, daring him to protest, was enough to keep his mouth shut. Tristan still didn’t respond at all.

  It was clear they weren’t thrilled at my idea, but they didn’t fight me either. I was going to count that as a win.

  I cleared the table, shooing away their offers to help. “You go get your instruments and set up,” I said, my tone daring any one of them to defy me.

  The guys trudged downstairs. I loaded the dishwasher and put away the leftovers. My plan for the evening, and the main reason that I wanted to go to town today, was to start a Christmas cake. I used to help my mom make one every year, and this would be my first time making it on my own. I just hope I did the recipe justice.

  I was preparing the fruit, chopping candied peel and grating apples, as the boys set up in the living room. Aogán had the strap of his bass guitar around his torso while Donncha put aside two empty guitar cases. Tristan was staring down at his guitar with a small frown on his face.

  “What’s wrong, Tristan?” I asked.

  “The string broke,” he explained, sitting on the arm of the couch with it in his lap. His top string had snapped.

  “No bother,” Donncha said, slapping him on the back. “I saw a pack of strings in the cellar. I’ll grab them for you.”

  I felt a small smile tug at the corner of my mouth. Baby steps. But it was still something. I just knew the three of them could get past their problems with enough discreet encouragement.

  Donncha returned with a small package. Tristan replaced the string, his long fingers working quickly while Aogán tuned his bass guitar, turning knobs and strumming over the strings. It wasn’t long before Donncha had song lyrics pulled up on the tablet, and the other two started playing. It was rough at first, they couldn’t quite get in sync, but after a few minutes, I started to recognise the rock song “Give Up All The Stars” by local indie sensation Danny O’Donaghue. I loved this song. I couldn’t stop the aching warmth coiling in my belly as I watched these three men.

  Donncha started singing when the verse kicked in. He had a mesmerising voice, raspy and expressive. It was sexy as hell and I couldn’t help but imagine him crooning into my ear. Aogán lost some of his seriousness when he played, looking almost like the boy I used to love again. And Tristan’s fingers moved so gracefully, so easily over the strings that I couldn’t help imagining them moving over my naked skin.

  I repressed a shiver and forced my attention back to my cake, dumping halved cherries and raisins into the fruit mixture. I let the music wash over me as I poured almost an entire bottle of Jameson whiskey on top to let it soak overnight.

  When the guys started talking to each other between songs, my stomach flipped with delight. I didn’t interject myself into the conversation at first, content to listen and let them bond with each other, but it wasn’t long before they were including me in the conversation. I brought them each a beer before loitering at the arch between the kitchen and living room. I was out of the way, but still a part of the conversation. I felt like I could listen to them forever.

  This felt…right.

  That was a dangerous thought. Aogán, Donncha, and Tristan didn’t even live here. They didn’t live with each other. And I definitely didn’t live with them. Getting attached to the idea of sticking around was just going to hurt in the long run.

  Another song started up. This time it was a duet between Danny O’Donaghue and his now wife, Ailis O’Donaghue, called “Finally”. It’d been the first song they’d ever written together as a couple.

  “Orla,” Donncha called as the boys played the intro. “Come sing Ailis’s part. Like old times.”

  I used to step in to sing the female parts of the duets they played.

  I choked back my instinct to say yes. I couldn’t let myself get any more entangled with the Cassidy brothers than I already was. “I’ve got to work on the cake,” I mumbled, tearing my eyes and heart away before retreating back to the kitchen.

  I sagged against the counter, listening to the song as Donncha tried to sing both parts himself.

  It didn’t sound right without me.

  Donncha

  I was drawn to the kitchen by the heavenly scent of spiced cake. It smelled almost as good as Orla looked. She was standing at the island with a cutting board in front of her. The dark green sweater she was wearing clung to her form and left little to the imagination.

  Slipping by her, I went straight for the oven. I reached to pull the door open and peek inside.

  Orla slapped my hand away. “Oh, no you don’t,” she said, looking adorable as she tried to look stern.

  “What’s in there? I could smell it all the way upstairs.”

  “A traditional Christmas cake.”

  “Really? The one that is soaked in whiskey for weeks? I haven’t had one of those in forever.”

  “My mom used to make one every year.” Her voice grew quiet.

  Right. That was the last time that I had it, the year before her parents died.

  I searched Orla’s face. To the casual observer, she might seem almost unaffected, but I knew her better than that. I could hear the tightness in her voice and see the pain she was trying to hide behind her eyes. My brave, strong Orla. I wanted to pull her into my arms and shield her from the world.

  I settled for sliding an arm around her shoulders. This close to her I could smell the soft lilac scent of her shampoo mixed with vanilla. “I’m sure your ma would have loved that you kept up the tradition,” I said softly.

  “Oh, I haven’t really.”

  I pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “No?”

  She shrugged, avoiding my eye contact. “It’s the first time I’ve made Christmas cake since…”

  “Your foster family didn’t like Christmas cake?”

  Her expression darkened. “My foster father didn’t really celebrate Christmas.”

  I laughed, mostly out of shock. “What? What kind of monster doesn’t like Christmas?”

  She slid out from under my arm and suddenly got busy chopping up carrots.

  “So…this foster father of yours. Where did you guys live?” I asked with narrowed eyes. “What was he like? You haven’t said.”

  “There’s not much to tell really. I was sent to live with him in Galway. I turned eighteen and didn’t need to live with him anymore.”

  She still wasn’t looking at me. I had no idea what she was hiding. The more she avoided answering my questions, the more I wanted to unravel the mystery. But I knew that if I pushed too hard, I wasn’t going to get anywhere.

  “Okay, then…wow, first real Christmas in a while, huh?” I said, changing the subject. For now. “I guess that means that we need to do this one right. What other Christmas-y things do you want to do?”

  Her shoulders softened and she smiled, her relief palpable. “Can we decorate the tree? I’ve missed having one so much. Nothing makes it feel like Christmas like a decorated tree does.”

  “We’ll do it tomorrow so.” I grinned, glad that I could so easily make her smile again. This was one of the things that I loved most about her. She was almost like a child in that simple things made her happy.

  “All of us?” she asked.

  The hope in her voice made me grimace. Maybe it wouldn’t be so easy to make her happy after all. “I don’t know about that. Aogán’s not really a decorator type.”

  “Come on, didn’t you guys have fun playing music together last night?”

  I suspected what she was doing, trying to glue us brothers back together. The idea of disappointing her didn’t sit right with me, but it wasn�
�t going to be as easy as one jam session. The rift had grown too wide.

  “I enjoyed myself,” I conceded. “But you have to understand, the three of us are very different people. Tristan has always kind of kept to himself, which basically makes him my polar opposite. But Aogán…” I sighed, thinking about the way he blew me off yesterday when I offered to help him fix the problems within the company. “He’s untouchable.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I don’t know.” I ran my fingers through my hair. I hadn’t meant to talk about this with her, or with anyone for that matter. “Forget I said anything.”

  I was about to crack a joke when she slipped a hand onto my forearm. Her touch made me pause, my words forgotten. “Please talk to me.”

  “I…” The way she was looking up at me with her big eyes.

  “I promise I won’t tell. You don’t trust me?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then…you’ll tell me?” She ran her hand down my forearm and slipped her fingers into mine. I was a goner.

  I’d tell her anything. Everything. Government secrets if I had them.

  I found myself talking before I could stop myself. “Ever since Aogán got put into the CEO position, he’s changed.”

  “Changed how?”

  “Big man in charge, that’s Aogán. While I’m just a salesman.”

  “Just a salesman? Aren’t you head of marketing?”

  I shrugged. It didn’t matter what my title was. Or how much money I bought in for the company. I’d always be Aogán’s younger, less capable brother. He’d always be CEO. The boss. The one in charge.

  “I see,” Orla said quietly, studying me, seemingly able to read me even through my silence.

  Aogán had distanced himself from me when he took over the toy company, making his view of me clear; he didn’t think I wasn’t good enough to take on his level of responsibility. He was the perfect son, the perfect leader, the one who was always right. I found myself saying all these things out loud to Orla before I knew what I was doing, my voice sounding bitter even to me.