I am going fucking insane. It’s been 2 fucking months since i’ve last seen her. Since i’ve kissed her or woken up next to her.

Ok, backstory.

I take after my da. Played U19 rugby for Ireland and seniors. It’s been my life goal.

Rugby first.

Before everything.

Sex second.

And everything else came after it. Playing for Ireland and living up to Johnny Kavanagh’s name.

My parents wanted me to have everything. And they gave me and my siblings everything my ma didn’t have growing up.

My parents rarely talk about that shite.

But I know what happened in that house. I know what he did to ma and my uncles.

How he hurt them. How there’s scars they still carry that’ll never really go away, no matter how far they’ve come.

But my da… he adores my ma. More than rugby. More than his career. More than anything.

Met at Tommen when they were teenagers.

All the bullshite in between.

My ma’s ma and da died in the fire.

A lot of stuff that nobody speaks about happened.

But they made it out. Alive. Breathing. Still choosing each other.

I didn’t crave what they had. Not really. I craved success. Needed to be better than what was expected of me.

So I worked my arse off. Played for the academy since I was 14.

And the fucking goal was rugby. My career. Play for Ireland. Be a Kavanagh.

But then Connor dragged her to our house when I was in fourth year.

His best friend.

The girl with the beautifully broken eyes and the soft smile.

She was sad. Quiet about it, but you could feel it. There was so much in her life you’d never guess just looking at her.

She reminded me of my ma. Not now—but the way she must’ve been back then.

I didn’t know what was going on in her house or her head. Didn’t even really notice her at first. Not until about a year of Connor bringing her over…always.

Then something just… shifted.

Suddenly rugby wasn’t the only thing pulling at me.

I wanted to help her. Fix what I could. Take away even a bit of whatever was weighing her down.

At the start, I think she was scared of me. Fair enough, honestly. I knew my reputation.

I’d been with a lot of girls. Older girls. Girls who knew exactly what they were doing.

Not girls two years younger than me who—according to Connor—hated being touched and didn’t trust boys.

But I can be patient when I want something.

And I wanted her.

So I slowed down. Became her friend. Let her talk when she wanted, stayed quiet when she didn’t. Let her whisper things she probably never said out loud before.

Held her when she needed it.

Waited.

And eventually… she trusted me. Which, for her, is everything.

Then she was mine.

I graduated at the end of the year. Beach trips. Freedom. Nights tangled up together, just… being.

But summer meant leaving.

Two months training with the Irish U19s and matches with the seniors.

So I left.

Called her constantly. Texted her like I needed it to breathe. Didn’t even look at another girl.

Didn’t want to.

But, it’s been two months and I’m standing here waiting for my family and her at the airport.

Da came to my matches over the summer. Said she’s doing good.

But Jesus Christ, I just want to see her myself.

And then I do.

And she spots me and her whole face lights up and she’s running and then she’s in my arms, and she’s kissing my nose, my mouth, my forehead and-

You get it.

She hugs me tight, like she’s afraid I’ll disappear again.

“Hi.”

“Hi back to you, baby.”

“I missed you so much.”

“Trust me, I know exactly how that felt.”

She whispers shyly, voice soft.

“Connor and I watched your games at the pub.”

“You’re the sweetest, you know that?”

She blushes, barely looking at me.

“You were so good. I told everyone you were my boyfriend.”

I laugh lightly.

“And I told everyone I had a pretty—apparently very tanned—girlfriend waiting for me at home.”

She just smiles at that, wrapping her arms around me again.

“Mm… I love you. Don’t leave again. At least not for a while.”

I press a kiss to her forehead, about to answer-

when of course-

“God, you guys love each other, we get it. When do I get a hug, Rory?”

Caoimhe.