“Ma, come on, can I get one week without those questions?” he griped as his brothers smirked at him.

“An té nach bpósann níl ach uaigneas dilte dósan, Rory,” Dee told him. “I just don’t want you to end up alone. I want a daughter-in-law, and grandkids!”

Rory rolled his eyes, having heard his mother tell him a million times that a man who does not marry will be lonely. It was an old Irish saying that he was more than a little tired of. He was only twenty-seven, and a lot less worried about it than his mother was.

“Yeah, Rory, you wouldn’t want to be lonely,” Quinn teased.

“Hey, you’re four years behind him, but you need to start thinking about finding a wife soon, too.” Dee turned her attention to Quinn.

Rory groaned. “Can we talk about literally anything else?”

“Kane has started training at Legends, Rory.” Seamus volunteered a new topic, scooping a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“Trying for regional this spring?” Rory asked, noticing that Kane had become a lot more muscular recently. He wondered why he hadn’t seen that last night at O’Leary’s.

“That’s the goal. Follow in your footsteps.” Kane inspected his brother, a hopeful beg for acceptance on his face.

Rory nodded, noting the expression, but keeping his features flat. He loved his brothers and wanted them to succeed, but nothing about the world of MMA fighting was appealing to him anymore. At least that’s what he was trying to convince himself.

“I think it would be good if you started training him, Rory. He needs professional coaching. He has the power, but not the knowledge.” Seamus spoke as if Kane wasn’t even there.

Rory avoided looking at his father and noticed Quinn glancing between them, obviously feeling the tension in the air. Anytime fighting came up in the last year, things turned awkward. No one ever wanted to directly call Rory on his injury, yet he could tell everyone was thinking about it.

“My leg still hurts.” His only response as he turned his attention back to his plate, piling corn onto his fork.

Concern etched his mother’s face. “Still? Have you been back to the doctor?”

“Nothing they can do.” He stood and took his glass back over to the liquor cabinet for a refill.

“Bullshit,” Seamus said. “It’s been a year; you did ten months of physical therapy. I’m not asking you to get back in the cage, just to train your brother.”

“Pop, I’ll be fine. There are plenty of fighters at Legends that can train me,” Kane offered, making Rory glad to have any interruption that might divert attention from him. Seamus ignored his son’s remark and continued to stare at Rory.

“I just want you to get back to doing what you loved, son. I’m not trying to be a hard-ass, but your mother and I worry. You’re out getting in bar fights, drinking your weight in whiskey.” Seamus’s tone softened. “What are we supposed to think?”

Rory exhaled loudly as he took in everyone around the table, each person’s worry tearing through him like a knife. He could feel the pity, the one thing he hated more than all else.

They wanted him to be the confident fighter he used to be. The Rory whom they could handle and understand, not the quiet drunk who rarely came around anymore. He frowned, knowing he might never be able to give them what they wanted.

He wasn’t even sure that he ever wanted to be the Rory he once was again, but he knew he owed it to his family to at least try. Kavanaghs took care of one another, and he had a duty to do the same for Kane.

“Fine, be at the club by seven tomorrow.” Rory pointed at Kane, who nodded excitedly. “Now, can we please get back to this delicious meal Ma made?”

The tension deflated from the room and smiles were passed around along with gossip and news of the week. Rory watched them, pretending to be interested in the conversations that were overlapping one another.

Giving up, he stood and went for his third refill of whiskey in the kitchen, discreetly swallowing a few pills with it when he was out of eyesight. Ace had trotted after him and made a low moaning sound when he saw Rory’s pill bottle, but Rory shot him a warning look that caused the dog to quiet down. As the liquid filled his stomach, the anxiety Rory had been feeling melted away, replaced by the warm, soothing sensation he loved.

Chapter 3

Rory slammed his fist down on his alarm clock with such resentment that it went flying off the nightstand, crashing loudly against the wooden floor. He groaned and rolled over, annoyed that the fall still hadn’t stopped the devil machine from screeching at him.

He slid his legs off the side of the bed and reached over to the wall, yanking the chord right out of its plug. Silence finally greeted him as he yawned and considered the sharp, early-morning sun peering through his window. It had been a while since he had been up this early.

Opening his nightstand drawer, he pulled out one of the many bottles of pills he had stashed everywhere and downed several capsules, using a glass of water from the nightstand this time. He felt the bed shift behind him and turned his head to see a somewhat attractive brunette asleep and sprawled across half of the bed. One leg was below the sheets while the other was on top, making it pretty clear she was fully nude.

Standing, Rory pulled on some boxers he found on the floor and a pair of sweatpants hanging on the back of a chair. His dog stretched as he rose from the small, round dog bed in the corner of the room. Rory found a dress and a bra at the end of the bed and shuffled over to where the woman was sleeping, tapping her shoulder gently to wake her up. She startled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she yawned and sat up.

“It’s early, Rory, come back to bed,” she purred seductively, letting her forearms push her breasts together for his viewing pleasure.

“Can’t, Molly. Have to head to the club.” He handed her the clothes, giving her chin a tiny squeeze of affection.

He hoped to see something in her eyes that pulled at him, anything that could make him feel the things he knew he was supposed to feel for a woman he spent the night with. But nothing came.

He was empty.

He turned away and headed to the kitchen with Ace right on his heels, feeling Molly’s eyes boring a hole through him. He knew he was disappointing her just as much as he was everyone else in his life. Molly was always there anytime he called, both of them needing some companionship.

Lifting the lid from a large container of dog food next to the kitchen counter, Rory scooped out enough for Ace, dumping it in his bowl. The dog quickly pounced on the food, loudly smacking his lips with his face plunged into the metal bowl. Rory smiled in amusement before he began preparing his own breakfast.

Despite any misgivings Rory had about his life, Ace was one of the bright parts of it. He had rescued the dog from a shelter over in Queens the day before he would’ve been euthanized. The shelter had a policy of putting down any dogs considered aggressive, and Ace’s background fit that category.

Rory knew that the hulking black-and-white mutt just needed some love and attention, so he intervened and brought him home. A local rescue in Woodlawn that focused on ex–fighter dogs helped him rehabilitate Ace. Ace had been shy and quiet at first, afraid that every new person would be as cruel as his previous master. As time went on, Rory convinced Ace otherwise and the dog became fiercely loyal to him, as well as much more affectionate.

In his sink, Rory found a bowl that wasn’t completely dirty and rinsed it out, then proceeded to fill it with some bran cereal and milk. Leaning against the counter, he scooped the first bite into his mouth just as his overnight guest slowly found her way out of the bedroom. She was now fully clothed, albeit slightly wrinkled.