Page 27 of Power Play with My Brother's Irish Friends

14

DUNCAN

Austin’s house stood tall and stark against the sharp sunlight. I dropped my sunglasses into place and sat back in the Adirondack chair. “Nice party, Austin.” He’d skipped the pool party this time and sent everyone out into the far backside of the lawn where green grass stretched in rolling waves.

Patrick sat on one side of me, Charlie on the other. Miranda had been back and forth between the party and the house, her white shorts and pink tank top a welcome contrast to the yards of bare male skin.

“It’s about to get even better.” Austin pointed. “Brought you a surprise.”

Two trucks rolled up, bumping over the grass and stopping at the edge of the fence that separated Austin from his neighbors. The doors opened, and several men poured out, dragging goals and equipment in their wake.

“Is that?” I squinted. “You rented hurling equipment?”

“Bought it.” Austin shrugged. “You’ve talked about it enough that I thought it might be fun. They were supposed to come yesterday, but the weather delayed the delivery.”

“Hurling?” Charlie leaned forward. “Dude. We’re playing, right? We have to play.”

Miranda strolled past, a frosty lemonade in hand and dark sunglasses cutting off her expression. I’d kept my distance as much as possible since our kiss at the charity event. No matter how much I wanted to end the standoff and admit my feelings for her, I’d promised Charlie and Patrick that I’d stay away. Giving in meant betraying Austin. He’d been too kind for me to stab him in the back. When I came to the US, I’d carried a giant chip on my shoulder. Austin knocked it loose and kept chipping away at it with his friendship. He made himself more than a teammate. He’d earned my respect and my loyalty.

“Of course we’re playing.” I stood and stretched. “You expect me to stare down a hurling field and not gear up?”

Patrick grinned and set his drink down with a clap of glass on glass. “Let’s do this.”

Charlie rubbed his hands together. “No wonder you wanted to have an end of summer party.” He eyed Austin and punched him in the shoulder. “You’re trying to make us practice even more before our first game.”

“I would never.” Austin laughed, head thrown back the same way Miranda did.

The sight caused a pain deep in my chest. She’d leave for New York soon. Our time together wound down, each day bringing the separation closer. I dreaded it, even as part of me longed for the return to normalcy that I hoped her absence would bring back. She disturbed my peace of mind, and as much as I longed to ask her to stay, I needed to concentrate on winning the season. I locked down my feelings, tucking them away with all the other emotions that didn’t belong in the game. Working with Miranda had given me new insights into myself, and I learned how to control the anger that overwhelmed me on and off the ice. I turned it on and off when needed, and in this moment, I needed the adrenaline, the heat and fire of a good competition to push all thoughts of my attraction aside.

“Who all is playing?” I shouted the question at our teammates and gestured to the field. As expected, all of them surged to their feet and followed me to the bottom of the hill where the goals and equipment waited.

Austin checked in with the drivers, shook a few hands, and chatted.

Patrick and I handed out gear and explained the rules. Excitement built with each piece of equipment I strapped to my body. “Feels like home, yeah?” I shoved the helmet over my head and jogged past Patrick, thumping him in the back with my gloved hand and sweeping up the hurling stick.

“Let’s go, guy.” Miranda stood on the sidelines, clapping and cheering. Her ponytail bobbed when she jumped up and down.

The game started with a whistle and a crash. I poured everything into racing across the field and scooping up the ball. Movement flashed in my peripheral vision as an opponent barreled my way. I threw the ball to Patrick and spun out of the way before the guy crashed into me.

God I’d missed this. Wind whistled past my face as I surged across the field. Shouts rode the wind, carrying me ahead where I blocked another player coming for Patrick. Bodies slammed together. I turned my head in time to watch Murphy and Charlie go down in a tangle of legs. The low, banked anger surged over the edge and sent me running full tilt toward a man in a green helmet coming for Austin.

Patrick yelled at me, but I ignored him, ignored everything but getting the ball back from the man who’d stolen it from Patrick. I swept in from the side, swatting the ball up into the air and catching it. A stick reared back, cracking into the narrow gaps of my helmet and striking me over the eye. Pain exploded in my head. I blinked and staggered back. My vision darkened in my left eye, and a swimming sensation roared in my ears as my heart thundered. I stepped back again and crashed to the ground, biting through my tongue. Blood filled my mouth and trickled down my throat, choking me with the coppery essence.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Scott shouted from a distance, the game continuing without me. “Sorry, Duncan.”

I raised a hand in a fist and shook it. Even I couldn’t tell if I meant it in anger or acceptance. Both swirled in a nauseating mix.

“Holy shit.” Patrick loomed over me. His head blotted out the sun, created a black visage over his face. He tore off his helmet and threw it aside. “You’re bleeding. Bad.”

I raised my hand to my head.

Charlie grabbed my wrist. “Don’t touch it.” Concern dented his forehead beneath his helmet. The white bars bisecting his face and protecting him from harm caused a strange, whooshing effect when I blinked.

“Let me through.” Miranda tore through the crowd gathering around me. “Everyone back up. Let me see.” She dropped to her knees beside me and held out her hand. “How many fingers?”

“Can’t see out of this eye.” I pointed at my left and squinted with my right. “Two fingers.”

“Good. Any pain?”

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