I frowned at him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
He tilted his head to one side, still smirking. "I'm just looking at my boy and feeling thankful to see the fire in his eyes again."
I shrugged helplessly. "Was it gone?"
"Not for long," he told me. "And the plan is recovery and bedrest. 7-10 days."
I exhaled a ragged breath. "Jesus, Da–"
"That's the plan, son," Dad said sternly. "From there, we'll move forward with rehabilitation."
"The Academy?" I swallowed deeply. "Did Coach Dennehy contact you?"
"They are furious with you," Dad replied, not mincing his words. "Which is to be expected when the number one ranked center in the country almost ends his career before his eighteenth birthday."
I groaned. "Christ, don’t say it like that."
"The truth is always better than a lie," he shot back with a knowing smile. "More painful, but much more beneficial in the long run."
"You're a lawyer," I huffed. "You're paid a fucking fortune to lie."
"Not to you," Dad replied with a grin. "You get my services free of charge and one hundred percent truthful." Smirking, he added, "If you want someone to mollify you, then you should have this talk with your mother."
"Yeah, well," I mumbled. "You could soften the edges a bit, Da. This stings."
"Stings will toughen you up," he told me. "There's a big, bad world out there, son. It's all sharp edges."
"What about my academy contract?" I dared to ask.
"Still very much in effect."
I exhaled a huge sigh of relief.
"Don’t be surprised," Dad mused. "You are brilliant. A careless, headstrong, suicidal idiot with a brilliant mind for rugby and the talent to take you to whatever level you wish to go to. They know this, Johnny. They won't let you go."
When he told me this, I knew it wasn’t bullshit.
He wouldn’t bullshit me.
"Do you think I'll make it, Da?" I asked then, staring at my father's face. "Do you think I can do it?"
"Yes," he replied without hesitation.
My heart fluttered.
"Really?"
My father nodded. "Yes, Johnny. Really."
With those words, I felt a small root of hope shoot up inside of me.
I could pull this back from the edge.
I could do it.
My dad thought I could do it.
"But you are relieved of duties," Dad added.
I sighed heavily. "Expected."
"And Coach Dennehy will be having a heated conversation with you."
I grimaced. "Also expected."
"And you will need to pass three separate evaluations before you step foot on a pitch again, be it academy, club, or school rugby," he chimed. "And those feet are to stay firmly off the grass until May."
"Lovely." I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. "Jesus."
"Don’t panic," he said calmly. "You know the plan. It's there. Right in front of you. Part of getting back on the squad is healing. Resting your body right now is as crucial as any other workout or rugby commitment."
I got that.
"It just sucks," I muttered.
"Look at it this way," Dad offered with a smirk. "You'll have unlimited time on your hands to spend with Gibsie."
"Oh, Jesus."
Dad laughed. "Who I presume will never let you live down last night."
"Nope." I grimaced. "He probably won’t." I looked to him then, and asked, "So, how long am I going to be stuck in the hospital for? "
"A couple of more days," Dad replied. "We'll take you home then, and you can get started on rehab."
"You really believe I can turn this around, Da?"
Dad nodded. "If you start following the rules, then absolutely, you can turn this around."
I shook my head again. "Why the fuck didn’t I talk to you months ago?"
"Because I'm workaholic father who should have spent more time focusing on keeping my son out of danger, rather than on keeping other father's sons out of prison," he replied.
"Da, stop," I warned. "It's not your fault. Or Ma's."
"No, it's yours," he agreed, again stinging me with the truth. "But, you're young and green and stubborn, and I'm supposed to be there to rein you in. I will be there, Johnny," he added then. "More."
"I don’t blame you for loving your work," I replied. "I'm the same."
He smirked. "I know you are. I've cleared my schedule for the rest of the Easter holidays."
My brows shot up. "You're coming home?"
"I am, son."
"And Ma?"
My father laughed. "Oh, Johnny, if she had her way she'd put you back in a pram and push you around with her. She's not going to leave you out of her sight."
"Fuck."
"You need to earn it back, son."
"Trust?"
Dad nodded. "That's right."
"So, where is she?" I grumbled, thinking about how much crying I was going to face from my mother.
"She'll be back in a bit," Dad said. "She's gone to get you some clothes."
"And Gibsie?"
"He's in the canteen," he replied with a smile. "The girl behind the counter is after catching his eye."
"I bet," I muttered.
Horny fucker.
"Gibsie is staying with us until we take you home to Cork," Dad said then. "And probably facing suspension when you return from Easter break." Smirking, Dad added, "You should have heard what he called your coach when he came to the hospital earlier – that's what took me so long to come back to you. Gerard refused point blank to go back on the bus. Apparently, he broke out of the hotel to come see you in the early hours of this morning. He's in some serious trouble with your principal. I had to phone the school and his parents before Coach Mulcahy agreed to let him stay with us."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," I groaned. "Can't take him anywhere."
"He's a loyal friend to you, Johnny," Dad replied. "You're lucky to have him."
I knew that.
"And Shannon?" I croaked out, flinching at the memory of how horribly I had reacted towards her when I first came around. "Is she okay? Is she in the canteen with Gibs?" I swallowed deeply, feeling incredibly exposed in this moment. "Can you go get her for me, Da? I really need to talk to her."
Dad sighed heavily. "Shannon's gone home, Johnny."
My heart sank.
"She left me," I croaked out.
This was it.
This was the start of it.
I wasn’t worth shit without rugby.
"No. She stayed with you," Dad corrected. "When you were demented out of your head and anyone in their right mind would have run for the hills, that girl stayed right by your bedside, listening to you talk out of your arse."
"Yeah, well, she's gone now, isn’t she?" I muttered, feeling thoroughly fucking sorry for myself.
"When your back was to the wall last night, who sat here with you?"
I stared at him.
"Who held your hand, Johnny?"
"Dad –"
"Who waited for the ambulance with you?"
"Dad, stop–"
"Who came to check on you when you were at your worst?"
I looked at him.
Did he…?
"Yes, I'm well aware of what happened between you two in that changing room." Dad smirked. "Your Coach told me all about the compromising position he found you and Shannon in."
"That fucking traitor," I grumbled.
"He's your teacher, Johnny. He has to report incidents of that nature. He doesn’t have a choice in the matter. It's mandatory."
"Her parents?"
"I would presume they are aware of the situation."
I shook my head. "For fuck's sake."
He sighed heavily before adding, "I suspect she's in quite a bit of trouble herself for sneaking over here."
"Fuck." I dropped my head in my hands and ignored the searing pain that shot up my legs. "Fuck, Da, I was a complete dick to her when I woke up."
"Then fix it," he replied calmly.
"You don’t get it," I strangled out, feeling like the worst piece of shit on the planet. "I panicked and I reacted on her, but she's fragile, Da. She's so… And I'm so in – "Love with her?" Dad smirked. "Yes, we all know, Johnny. You shouted it from the rooftop last night."
"Shite," I groaned. "Was she freaked out?"
"Your mother certainly was," Dad laughed. "When you told her Shannon would mother your children."
"Jesus Christ," I whimpered. "Why didn’t you stop me?"
"We couldn’t," he replied. "You would only settle down for Shannon. You fell asleep in her arms."
Ugh.