Page 137 of Trying Sophie

I scoffed, but it came out sounding like a cross between a snort and a belch. “I can assure you, I did no such thing.”

Despite the confession I thought I’d heard him mutter our last night together, or maybe because of it, I didn’t think Declan had a heart to break. Because if he’d loved me and still cheated on me? Yeah, he was a heartless bastard.

“Well, something’s wrong with him. If it wasn’t something you did, then what?”

“Aoife, I have no clue what you’re talking about. Maybe it’s how the team’s playing.”

“He’s the most competitive person I’ve ever met, but he’s lost before and it never affected him like this.”

I hated to think our breakup had sent Declan back to his old ways, but it was a very real possibility. “Affected him how?” I asked, holding my breath while I waited for her answer.

“He’s drunk, like all the time, and he shows up to practice hungover and Eoin said he hasn’t shaved in days.”

Declan was a saint about going to bed early (unless I slept over and we stayed up all night) and he really didn’t drink all that much while he was training.

“You’re right, that doesn’t sound like him. He takes rugby seriously. Probably more serious than anything else in his life. Why would he risk that?” I wondered as Aoife looked at me with worry.

“I don’t know,” she sniffled. “But don’t you see? There has to be something wrong if he’s risking his career. Declan’s the best there is but The Wallaby hates him and would love a reason to pick someone ahead of Declan for the Six Nations team.”

When she finished speaking, Aoife sat back and assessed me. Tilting her head to the side, she stared— unblinking—for several long seconds.

I rubbed my fingers over my throbbing temples. I’d been popping paracetamol like candy for the last three days but I couldn’t seem to shake this constant headache. I blew out my breath and rested my arms on the table. With a sigh, I asked her what she knew about my relationship with her brother.

“How much do you know?”

“I know everything was great and then it wasn’t,” she answered quickly.

Now it was my turn to study her and watch for her reaction. “Your brother cheated on me, Aoife. I haven’t talked to him since Aidan’s Christmas party.”

“Wait, what?” she sputtered, her arresting turquoise eyes going wide. “He wouldn’t do that.”

I turned to look out over the pub so she couldn’t see the hurt on my face. “Maggie says otherwise.”

“Ugh,” Aoife snarled. “I hate that cunt.”

Between my time in Edinburgh and Ballycurra, I’d been in the British Isles for a handful of months but I didn’t think I’d ever get used to hearing people use that word so openly. It was said so often I’d almost stopped thinking of it as a pejorative. Almost.

“Yes, well,” I drawled, bringing my face back around, “I agree with the sentiment. But be that as it may, your brother hooked up with her less than 72 hours after …” I stopped. I didn’t have it in me to say the words. The pain of remembering was too great.

“Seventy-two hours after what?”

Avoiding her gaze, I picked at a hang nail, my eyes downcast. “Since we … made things official,” I settled on.

“Bullshit!” she called out, startling me. “He wouldn’t do that. He l— … likes you. So much. He was different with you. Happy.”

I’d been happy too. Happier than I’d ever been and he’d ruined it. The way I felt for him had been overwhelming in its swiftness and the intensity of it had frightened me, but I’d been willing to work through that fear. I’d been the only one, it seemed.

“But he did,” I answered somberly.

“Nope,” came her rebuttal as she crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest again. “Not buying it. Especially if Maggie’s the one who told you.”

“There were pictures, Aoife,” I stammered. “I saw them.”

“You saw a picture of my brother fucking Maggie?” she asked accusingly, as if I was the one who had done something wrong.

Which maybe I had. Because the truth was I hadn’t seen anything like that. I’d seen a picture of Maggie sitting on Declan’s lap, and her bitch friend Annie had tried to get me to look at another one that supposedly depicted Declan’s tongue shoved … somewhere, but I’d pushed past her and left the party before I’d actually seen anything.

“No, not exactly.”

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