Binding 13

In the fogginess of my mind, I vaguely remembered a night out over Halloween break last year when Bella had thrown a huge tantrum outside the pub because I refused to take her home in the taxi to my house.

It was one of the last times I'd been with her.

"The one your pal was talking about," he explained. "She's bad news for a lad like you." Tapping his temple, he added, "Trust old Paddy, lad. Girls like that one are takers."

He had that right.

Fucking hell.

Hughie and Feely staggered out of the bar carting Gibsie, who was singing his own rendition of The Blizzard's Trust Me I'm A Doctor at the top of his lungs.

I shook my head at the sight of him.

"Nobody," I slurred as I walked over and took his weight from the lads. "And I mean nobody, would ever trust that you're a doctor, Gibs."

"Your future wife saved me from a bad fucking pussy today," he slurred. "Buy a ring, lad." Slinging an arm over my shoulder, he added, "Pussy whisperer's a keeper."

Frowning, I looked to Hughie who stared in confusion right back at me.

"How much did you drink, lad?" I asked Gibsie as I wrestled to keep him in one place.

He had a habit of scampering off when he was drunk.

"Enough," Gibsie slurred before bursting back into the chorus of the song, stamping his feet on the footpath for em.

"Yeah, yeah, fucker," I coaxed as I half carried him to the taxi. "You're a doctor."

"With no standards," he held up a finger and declared before falling into the back seat of the car.

"Never thought you had," I agreed, climbing in alongside him to buckle the eejit up.

"How'ya, Paddy?" Gibsie paused mid-song to acknowledge. "To the Kavanagh manor," he added before diving right back into song.

Fucking Gibsie.

"What's the story with you and Bella?" Hughie asked.

We were sitting on the front porch of the house, wrapping up the night with a bottle of Jameson.

Whiskey was a terrible way to end the night, but a much needed one having spent the past three hours taking turns babysitting Gibsie and his upchuck reflux.

Fucker had projectile vomited all over the spare bedroom and was currently being housed in the downstairs bathtub with half a dozen towels thrown over him.

Thankfully, his stomach was finally empty and he was snoring soundly.

Hughie and I were the only two still awake with Patrick passing out on the couch in the living room the minute we got home.

"There's no story, lad," I said, rolling my half-empty glass between my hands.

"I presume you've heard the rumor?" he asked, tone cautious and slightly slurred.

I exhaled heavily. "Which one?"

"About her and Cormac?"

"Don’t need to hear any rumors to know what's happening there, lad," I grunted. "Saw it with my own eyes tonight."

"No," Hughie said slowly. "The one where she went home with Cormac on St. Stephen's Night." Grimacing, he added, "And every weekend since."

"No," I deadpa

"I would've said something, but you were just out of the hospital," he sighed heavily. "I didn’t want her messing with your recovery."

"Don’t worry about it, lad." Swirling the whiskey around in my glass, I stared down at the amber liquid and admitted the truth. "I already had my suspicions long before then."

"Yeah?" He arched a brow. "Why didn’t you say something?"

"Because I wanted a quiet life?" I offered weakly. "I'm a fucking eejit, lad."

"Ryan's the eejit," Hughie corrected. "Fucking over his teammate for a girl."

Too drunk to feign impassiveness or mask my emotions, I dropped my head and released a heavy sigh.

"I made a mistake with that girl, Hugh." Raising my glass to my lips, I chugged back the remaining amber liquid before adding, "An eight-month long mistake."

"At least you got out unscathed, Cap." Reaching between us, he grabbed the half empty bottle of whiskey and refilled his glass. "Could have been a nine-month mistake," he added, holding the bottle out for me. "With an eighteen to life price tag."

"You can say that again," I muttered in agreement, taking the bottle. "Can you imagine what De

"Screw your coaches at The Academy," Hughie countered. "Imagine what your mother would have done to you."

"Shite, lad, it doesn’t bear thinking about." Filling my glass up, I placed the bottle back down and shook my head. "Ugh."

"Lad, can you imagine what my mother would say if I walked in the door with Katie and told her I got her pregnant," Hughie slurred. "She'd cut my bollocks off there and then."

"Stop, lad." I shuddered violently. "Don’t even talk about it."

We both knocked the wooden porch beams to unjinx ourselves.

Several minutes passed by in companionable silence before Hughie spoke again.

"Did you ever talk to Sha

I turned my bleary gaze on him, too drunk to mask my curiosity. "My Sha

Hughie laughed. "She's your Sha

I shrugged, too drunk to defend or deny.

"Gotta say, lad, I was relieved when you called the team on the pitch incident and nipped it in the bud," Hughie said with a heavy sigh. "If you hadn't, I would have. Poor girl deserves a break."

I frowned. "You know her?"

"She's been friends with my sister since they were small."

"Claire," I filled in, racking my brain for the information I needed. "The blonde one in third year."

"Yeah, lad." Hughie took another sip from his glass before saying, "She was over at the house today, actually."

"What?" I looked at him. "You never said."

He shrugged. "Why would I?"

Good point.

"Lovely girl," he added thoughtfully. "Horrible family."

"What do you mean?"

Hughie shook his head but didn’t reply.

That bothered me for a whole host of different reasons.

I didn’t like him knowing things about her that I didn’t.

"I'm going to go check on precious in the bath," he a

"Take whatever room you want," I mumbled, deep in thought.

Hughie placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Keep looking out for her, Cap," he said, squeezing my shoulder. "God knows someone needs to."

And then he was gone.