Ryan (O'Connor Brothers Book 2) Read online

  Ryan

  O’Connor Brothers #2

  A. S. Kelly

  Contents

  RYAN

  Ryan

  Prologue

  1. Ryan

  2. Ryan

  3. Ryan

  4. Ryan

  5. Chris

  6. Ryan

  7. Chris

  8. Ryan

  9. Chris

  10. Ryan

  11. Chris

  12. Ryan

  13. Chris

  14. Ryan

  15. Chris

  16. Ryan

  17. Ryan

  18. Chris

  19. Ryan

  20. Ryan

  21. Chris

  22. Ryan

  23. Chris

  24. Ryan

  25. Ryan

  26. Chris

  27. Ryan

  28. Chris

  29. Ryan

  30. Chris

  31. Ryan

  32. Chris

  33. Ryan

  34. Chris

  35. Ryan

  36. Ryan

  37. Ryan

  38. Chris

  39. Ryan

  40. Chris

  41. Ryan

  42. Ryan

  43. Chris

  44. Ryan

  45. Chris

  46. Ryan

  47. Chris

  48. Ryan

  49. Chris

  50. Ryan

  51. Ryan

  52. Chris

  53. Ryan

  54. Ryan

  55. Chris

  56. Ryan

  57. Chris

  58. Ryan

  59. Chris

  60. Ryan

  61. Chris

  62. Ryan

  63. Chris

  64. Ryan

  65. Chris

  66. Ryan

  67. Chris

  68. Ryan

  69. Chris

  70. Ryan

  71. Ryan

  72. Chris

  73. Ryan

  74. Chris

  75. Ryan

  76. Ryan

  77. Chris

  78. Ryan

  79. Chris

  80. Ryan

  81. Ryan

  Epilogue

  Follow A. S. Kelly

  Also by A. S. Kelly

  Notes

  Copyright © 2019 A. S. Kelly

  RYAN

  O’Connor Brothers

  Book 2

  A. S. Kelly

  English Edition

  Translation by Abigail Prowse

  Literary and artistic property reserved.

  All rights reserved. Unauthorised reproduction prohibited.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and storyline are the fruit of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictional sense. Any similarity to facts, places or people living or deceased is purely coincidental.

  Photography by Wander Aguiar Photography

  Ryan

  What happens when you lose everything?

  What do you do when everything you’ve ever believed in crumbles before your eyes, and you can’t throw yourself down in time to pick up the pieces?

  How do you get up in the morning, eat, go to work, talk to people, smile?

  How do you live?

  The answer is simple: you don’t.

  You run away – as far as possible. And you never look back. You escape from the past, from your life and from yourself. But as far as you can go, as hard as you try, what you were and what you’ve made of yourself will always remain. Even if you try to hide it. It’s always there.

  Tugging at your conscience. Begging to be heard.

  It tries to make cracks, a gap to break into, destroying your present as soon as it gets in. It finds a way to make you feel, and when you do…my God, nothing can help you. You can’t even help yourself.

  But that’s okay – it’s all part of the game.

  I’m ready to push past everything, even myself. To tear down anything in my path, anything that could hurt me even more, that could pull me down even lower. That could destroy anything I have left.

  But I didn’t consider everything. I didn’t consider her. And now I have to make a decision, and I have to use my head.

  To save myself, or to save her. Because it’s clear that neither of us can come out of this unharmed.

  Not together.

  Prologue

  Ryan

  Two years earlier

  “You can’t actually do it.”

  “I already am,” I reply to Ian, haphazardly packing up my duffel.

  “Ryan, please, be reasonable. Let’s talk about it, I’m sure we can find a solution.”

  “A solution?” I laugh in his face. “We had a solution, but you never let me go through with it.”

  “Did you really want to, though? How was it going to help you?”

  “Help me?” I ask him, staring hard. “It would’ve helped me. But you had to butt in, as usual.”

  “So killing your brother would have solved all your problems?”

  “It would’ve made me feel better.”

  Ian shakes his head and sinks onto the bed. “You don’t really think it was his fault, you know that.”

  “No, of course not. It’s never his fault. He never does anything wrong, right?” I zip up my duffel and throw it on the floor, sitting myself down next to him, letting my head fall into my hands.

  “Okay, he made things worse, but everything was going to shit even without him getting involved.”

  I close my eyes and screw my hands into fists, trying to calm the fit of rage shaking through my body. I can’t think of him, of what he’s done.

  Of what I was about to do.

  “She…”

  “Shut up!” I shout at him.

  No one should ever mention either of their names in front of me.

  “Have you seen this?” Ian touches my chin gently, but I jerk away. “You need stitches here.”

  “Why the fuck would you even care?”

  Ian sighs, frustrated. “You’re never going to change your mind, are you?”

  “I’ve made my decision now. I’ve signed the contract.”

  “It’s not too late – we can talk to the lawyer, retract the…”

  I stand up. “They’re waiting for me.”

  “Don’t just throw everything away. It took years of effort…I can’t let you do it. It’s your career. Your fucking life!” He gets up too and grabs me by the shoulders. “Don’t be a baby, Ryan. You’re a man!”

  I shake off his hands. “My life, Ian!” I scream at him. “You have no idea what…”

  “You have your family, you have rugby, you have…”

  “That’s not enough,” I tell him, on the verge of breaking down.

  It’s not enough anymore.

  “It will be enough,” he says, calmly.

  “So what, I should just do what you do?”

  Ian gives me a sad smile. “It’s still a way of living.”

  “You don’t get it,” I tell him, calmer now. “It’s not my way. Maybe it works for you, but not me. I always wanted this, I’m not like you, or like…” I grind my teeth. “I’m different. I want different things…or at least, I did want them!”

  “And you can still have them. Maybe later in the future…”

  “No,” I shake my head. “I can’t, not after…It’s not for me. It can never be for me. Do you have any idea how it feels, Ian? Ripping your heart from your chest and watching someone trample it into the ground. Watching the blood spurt out, watching it slowly stop beating. Seeing your life, your dreams, your future fade before your eyes…” I pause, trying not to let my emotions get the
better of me. “There’s nothing left for me here.”

  “I’m here,” Ian tries again.

  I shake my head. “I have to get away, far away from here. From everything. Please, just let me go.”

  Ian takes a deep breath. “You’re my brother, Ryan. I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to just go like this, without thinking it through, without waiting for it all to blow over.”

  “For what to blow over, exactly? It won’t just disappear, Ian. And Jesus, it hurts. I can’t stand it.”

  Ian stays silent for a while, then runs a hand through his hair and starts to speak, resigned. “If this is what you really need, then I’m not going to be the one to stop you. Just…don’t shut us out. Don’t shut me out.”

  I smile, sadly. “Do you really think that could happen?”

  He gives me a half-smile back. “Of course not.”

  I lean down to grab my duffel.

  “Are you sure you’ve got everything?” he asks, nodding towards my bag. “I can help you with the rest of your stuff, if you just let me get myself sorted…”

  “I don’t want any reminders of this life,” I interrupt him. “I don’t want to bring any of it with me. I’m not that person anymore.”

  I start to head towards the door of my apartment, with Ian behind me; but when I open it, the very last person I want to see is standing right in front of me.

  I launch myself at him, throwing him to the floor. I sit on his chest and lock my hands tightly around his neck, as he grabs my wrists in an attempt to break free. But I’m stronger, angrier. I’m in pieces.

  “Fuck, Ryan!” Ian tries to grab my shoulders, but even he can’t fight my strength.

  My hate is stronger than all of their muscles combined.

  “Ryan! You’ll end up killing him if you don’t stop!” Ian keeps shouting and pulling at me, trying to get me away from the guy, but I have no intention of letting go.

  I want him dead. Now. And I want to do it myself.

  His face starts to go white, and his hands lose their strength against my wrists. I can feel the life slowly leaking out of him under my fingers, a life which will never give me back my own: one that will never repay me for all the pain I feel inside.

  Just when he is about to lose all feeling, a mountain of muscles wraps around me, hurling me aside onto the ground. He sits on top of me, trying to pin down my arms.

  “Ryan! Jesus…Ryan!”

  I try to wriggle free, but Ian’s grip is too strong. “I can’t let you do it. Fuck, he’s your brother!”

  I look hard at him, with resentment on my tongue and pain shooting across my heart. I tell him what I really think.

  “From now on, you’re my only brother.”

  1

  Ryan

  I stay sitting in the car for over an hour, never taking my eyes off her street, with her two-floor house, just like she wanted. It has a garden at the front, with flowers framing the property; the lawn in the centre is trimmed to perfection. The white window frames, the red door. The room above the garage with its freshly-painted shutter. A fence surrounds the house, also white.

  Everything looks new, full of expectation, of the future. Full of life.

  A life lived with somebody else.

  It’s all just what she always wanted, just as she planned for years, as she had dreamed as a little girl.

  Because I know. I was there. I was there every day.

  Everything was how it should have been, except for one insignificant, miniscule detail.

  Me.

  A minivan parks right in front of the house, and I instinctively shrink myself down into my seat, for fear of being noticed. The driver door opens and a golden head of hair appears, tousled by the wind. She opens the back door and leans inside, only to appear a few seconds later with a little girl in her arms.

  She pulls up the hood of the girl’s jacket, smiles, and gives her a kiss on the nose. She closes the back door and slowly makes her way towards the house. She looks for her keys in her bag then puts the key in the lock. She opens the door, and they both disappear inside, taking with them what remains of my heart.

  I stay there, with my gaze fixed firmly on the door, not really knowing what I’m waiting for: maybe for someone to shake me, scream at me and wake me up, tell me that it was all just a bad dream.

  Someone to reassure me, to take my hand. To wait for me to come home, hug me and tell me that they missed me.

  Someone who decided not to do any of these things. Not with me.

  But she’s doing them with someone else.

  I shake my head, trying to piece together any remaining dignity I have left, but it seems to have disintegrated, along with everything else.

  I start the engine and get into gear, but before I can pull away, another car parks in front of the house. I grip the steering wheel tight and try to resist: I was not ready for this.

  But I stay and watch anyway.

  I watch him approach the door, and I see her open it before he can even knock. Then, with that damn smile again, she turns to someone that is not me.

  They kiss, on the lips. He puts his hands around her and pulls her towards him.

  Those are not my hands. They belong to someone else.

  I instinctively look down at my own hands, trying to remember the sensation of her skin under my fingers, but it’s been so long that my mind has deleted every trace of her memory. I can’t do anything but ask myself how it must be for her, to feel someone else’s fingers graze her skin. If she gets the same goosebumps, the same emotions. If she still wants them to touch her again, forever.

  Like she did with mine.

  They exchange a few words, then they both go inside.

  Together.

  And I stay there, outside.

  Alone.

  I stayed there, shut outside as if I had been shut out from my own life: as if it had been taken from me, and I didn’t understand why. Because I can’t bring myself to understand what I could have done wrong, what I could have said, or what could have made her decide that it shouldn’t have been me holding her in my arms when I came home.

  I would have painted the door red for her. I would have mowed the lawn every Monday morning, on my day off. I would have built her that damn shutter with my own hands, while she watched me through the front window. I would have planted her favourite flowers around the house: I would have asked my dad to help me, who understands gardening a hell of a lot more than I do. I would have laughed, cried, breathed and sweated every moment with her.

  I would have given her everything, just as I always did, and would have continued to do until the end of my days: just like I was ready to promise her. I would have given her my life and, in exchange, I would have asked her for only one thing: to let me stay with her.

  It hurts. Fuck, it hurts so much. More than it did two years ago. More than a month ago. More than yesterday.

  It hurts more and more every day, and there’s nothing that can ease the pain.

  2

  Ryan

  “Where the hell were you? I tried calling you at least five times.”

  I go into Ian’s house and head straight for the kitchen. “I need something.”

  I open the fridge, but inside I can only find vegetables, meat and energy drinks. “What the fuck have you done to this place?” I ask, agitated, slamming the fridge door shut.

  “You want something to calm those nerves?”

  I lean against the counter while Ian opens one of the lower fridge drawers. He produces a bottle, grabbing a glass.

  “Here you go,” he says, pouring me some.

  I down the whole thing in one swig, and push the glass towards him for another. Ian shakes his head disapprovingly, but obliges me anyway.

  “You shouldn’t drink that stuff, you know. We have training tomorrow…”

  “Don’t start.”

  “Ryan…”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, ending the conversation.

&nb
sp; “Mmm…”

  “I’ve just had a really bad day, okay?”

  The front door opens, and Riley’s voice startles us from behind.

  “Oh, there you are!” she goes up to Ian, who hugs her tenderly.

  My stomach tightens.

  “I was working late.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “Dinner’s nearly ready.”

  “I’m starving.”

  “Thought you might be,” Ian smiles, caressing Riley’s stomach. It takes everything for me not to cry out in exasperation.

  “Do you have to do that?”

  “Oh, you’re here,” Riley turns to me, pretending to have only just noticed my presence.

  I smirk at her and she returns the gesture, coming towards me and giving me a kiss on the cheek that I can’t seem to shake.