In my peripheral vision I saw Lucy cock her head to the side, her eyebrows pulling low. “What do you mean? She gave you to your uncle?”
“Just that. My mother . . . didn’t make good choices.” A polite way of saying she’d left me abandoned at her flat for days at a time. “My uncle Peter and his wife, my aunt Clara, saw I had athletic potential. So they offered to take me off her hands.”
Though my irresponsible mother had foisted me upon my aunt and uncle, they’d accepted me as their own.
But with a condition.
“As you know, the best families had one or more rugby players in their lineage. Take your own family as an example.” My gaze flickered to hers.
Lucy shook her head, issuing me an odd look. “I don’t consider myself a Fitzpatrick. They want nothing to do with me. If you asked my grandparents, they’d tell you they’ve never heard of either Ronan or me.”
“That’s because they already have the proverbial feather in their cap. Your father was a rugby player, and your great-uncle Brian. I was the first Cassidy to demonstrate any aptitude for it.”
Lucy was staring at me now, her face carefully devoid of expression. She was wise, my Lucy. Because if she’d been looking at me with pity, I wouldn’t have continued. But as it was, her accepting silence spurred my words.
“My aunt and uncle agreed rugby needed to be my priority. So while their family went to mass, I trained with the private coaches they’d hired. I was an opportunity.”
“An opportunity,” she echoed, an edge of irritation in her voice. “You were a kid.”
“Yes, but I was eager for their praise. I trained. All day, every Saturday and Sunday. When I wasn’t in school or sleeping, I trained.”
“What about friends? Mates? Girlfriends? What did you do for fun?”
I shrugged, bobbing to the side just as the great beast I was grooming tried to lick me. “I had no friends, other than my dog, because friendships were distractions. I’ve never had teammates, not really. I was frequently reminded that all the blokes I’d ever played alongside were a means to an end.”
“I need you to train, Sean. I need you to make the team,” my aunt had said, making me believe my success was paramount to her happiness.
In the end, rugby had been my saving grace. I was large, strong, and athletic.
“My aunt has never liked my size,” I continued, unprompted. “But she did like the idea of a professional Union player in the family. When I made the team it elevated her social status.”
The box had been checked.
I’d fulfilled my role.
My usefulness was at an end.
I was no longer needed.
Now merely tolerated.
“That’s appalling, Sean. No one deserves to be used like that, least of all a little boy.”
I gave Lucy an empty smile. “No matter. It’s in the past.”
She exhaled, it sounded pained, like she wanted to argue.
I waved her concern away. “I lived the first part of my life wanting to please my aunt and uncle. And now I live my life to please myself. So, in the end, it all worked out,” I lied. Because to have no purpose was a terrible thing.
“Do you at least like it?” she pressed, her voice tight.
I thought about the question, moving to Hampton’s lower back and using long, smooth strokes with the brush.
“I’m quite good at it.”
Lucy huffed impatiently and turned the water off, her hands were now covered in soap as she lathered the small Boston terrier in the tub. “Being good at something is not the same as liking something.”
I shook my head, grinning at her. “And the opposite is also true. Liking something is not the same as being good at something, which is why excellent teachers are so essential.”
It took her a moment, but she eventually understood my meaning. When she did, two slashes of color glowed over her cheeks.
“Be serious. If you could do anything in the world, other than play rugby, what would you do?”
I stood from my crouching position, patting Hampton on the head.
As much as I admired her attempt to keep the conversation on track, I couldn’t help but try to derail her efforts. “Oh, come now, Lucy. I think you know what I’d like to do with my time, if given the opportunity.”
Hampton scratched at my leg. When I didn’t pay him any mind, he jumped up, his paws landing on my hip.
She gritted her teeth, but ultimately failed to hide her embarrassed smile, unable to meet my gaze. “I’ve created a monster,” she muttered.
“No, you’ve merely roused—and aroused—a dormant hunger.” The newfie pushed at me. Had I been smaller in stature, he would have succeeded in pushing me over. As it was, I braced my feet apart and kept my eyes fastened to the lovely, blooming, blush heating Lucy’s neck.
“You’re a sex fiend,” she said teasingly, her lips twisted to the side, compressing as she tried again—and failed again—to mask her smile. Lucy lifted her gaze and I warmed as it drifted over me.
But then her eyes widened and she gasped, “Oh my God, Sean.” She pointed at me. “Sean, the dog!”