The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore

"Sorcha, its one o'clock in the afternoon! Get out of bed!"

Sighing, I shoved my head beneath my pillow, mumbling, "Mamó, it's only eight back home!"

"You have been here for over a week now, Sorcha Líadan, that argument is no longer valid. Now, get up, get showered and dressed, and come down for lunch. Your cousins are here, so please, don't delay, mo ghrá."

There was a second of silence before I heard my grandmother's footsteps leave the room, closing the door behind her. I groaned, slipping my head out from under my pillow, flipping over onto my back and opening my eyes.

My room was rather plain. Warm, honey-colored walls, adorned with only a few framed black and white photos of family, spanning all the generations, and floors still displayed the hardwood that the house was built with. There were three beds, outfitted in pristine, white sheets and a cinnamon brown comforter, though only one dresser, hidden in the far corner of the room, beside the large bookshelf, full of long-forgotten books. For as long as I could remember, the room looked like this.

But, the room felt different this time, emptier. I couldn't determine whether the feeling sprouted from the hollowness in my chest, or simply because for once, I did not inhabit it with both of my older brothers.

"Sorcha! You better be getting into the shower!"

Cringing, I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes before I stumbled out of bed, grabbing some things and dragging myself across the hall and into the bathroom.

It didn't take me long to get showered and dressed. It never had. I was a no-fuss kind of girl, I guess. I yanked on a red tank top and a pair of jean shorts. I pulled my dripping wet hair into a ponytail and hurried out of my room, rushing down the stairs before my grandmother could yell at me again.

"Tuck in, Sorcha," my grandma announced as I entered the kitchen, even though her back was turned to me, "your food is going to get cold."

Nodding, I took a seat and dug into the delicious home cooked meal. I could barely stop myself from moaning as the first forkful slipped down my throat. It had been so long since I had had proper food, and even then, no food tasted quite as wonderful as my grandmother's.

"Ah, Sleeping Beauty has awoken!" a deep, familiar voice called out from behind me. I rolled my eyes, staying focused on my lunch as they took a seat beside me.

"Come on, Sorche, I haven't seen you in two years, where's my hug?" It was my twenty-year-old cousin, Brady. Growing up, he and I had been really close, but moving across the Atlantic Ocean made it difficult to keep touch, especially at such a young age and in such an unfortunate situation. When we were old enough to properly stay in contact, I was too strung-out to care.

I forced a smile and turned to him, "Hi Brady."

He offered me a cheeky smile and I rolled my eyes before going back to my lunch. I heard him shift beside me, as if he was contemplating what to say next. He must have opened his mouth to speak when my grandmother cut him off.

"Brady, leave the girl alone until she's done eating," she said sharply, causing my cousin to immediately shut his mouth and scoot away. No one ever dared to back-talk my grandmother, nor does anyone dare to disobey her. What she says goes.

When lunch was finished, I slid from my chair and tried to escape back upstairs to my bedroom, where I'd hide away until dinner.

"Not so fast, Sorcha," my grandmother announced before I was able to make it up the stairs, "Brady is here to take you out looking for a job."

"Mamó!" I whined, not daring to turn around and look at her.

"No, a stóirín, if you're going to stay here all summer, you are going to work. It would be good for you. Maybe you'd stop moping around; I miss my bright and shining gariníon."

Sighing in defeat, I made sure my cell phone was tucked away in my back pocket before sauntering back down the stairs, throwing on some shoes, and following my smirking cousin out the front door.

* * *

Sidney Crosby stared at the door wearily. His stomach was a mess of knots. Not only was he about to confront Sorcha, but he would be coming face-to-face with her two older brothers. From what Isabelle said, it seemed as though her older brothers were extremely protective of their sister, and, of course, they'll already be biased simply because he's Sidney Crosby.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his fist and knocked.

There was no immediate response, but Sidney hadn't expected one. It was late in the afternoon, and they were all probably just waking up from a late night of drinking and partying. Eventually, the heavy apartment door was pulled open, and Sidney was looking into a familiar pair of chocolate brown eyes.

Only, he wasn't. The person in front of him wasn't Sorcha, only a boy that looked strikingly similar to her. He had the same chocolate eyes, cinnamon brown hair, and pale skin with a brushing of freckles along his cheeks. This was certainly one of her brothers.

He stared at him for a minute before shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, "Shit, I must be higher than I thought. You kind of look like Sidney Crosby for a second."

"Actually," Sidney shifted uncomfortably, "I am…"

"What?" The dazed look on his face shifted to an angry glare. Sidney unknowingly took a step backward.

"I… is Sorcha here? I need to speak to her…"

The guy scoffed, "Seriously man, fuck off."

Without another word, the door was slammed in his face. Sidney blinked absentmindedly. Apparently, slamming doors in people's faces ran in the family. Sighing, he rubbed the side of his face, turned around, and began walking down the hall. He wasn't sure if there was anything left that he could do.

The twenty-two-year-old was almost to the stairwell when he heard a door open down the hall and a voice ring out, followed by some heavy footsteps. The Nova Scotian turned around and spied another guy, who also looked uncannily like Sorcha in male-form. This one looked older than the previous.

"Shit, Finn wasn't kidding when he said Sidney Crosby was at the door." Sidney stared at him, unsure of what to say. "Look man, I'm sorry about him. You're not exactly a hero in our house, you know, us being diehard Caps fans and all, but he shouldn't have slammed the door in your face. Of course, Finn's never been one for manners. So, what do you need exactly?"

"I need to speak to your sister…" he trailed off, watching the guy's expression wearily. He arched an eyebrow at Sidney.

"Sorcha? Really? I wasn't aware you two knew each other… Huh…"

"I used to date Isabelle, actually," Sidney began, "but before that, she and I had a couple, uhm, of, er… encounters."

"Encounters, huh? Is that what the kids are calling 'getting shitfaced and fucking each other senseless' nowadays?" The guy mused. Sidney's eyes went wide.

"Wh-what?"

"Crosby, I know what my baby sister gets up to, I've known for years. Of course, I wasn't aware she was screwing NHL superstars, though I'm not exactly surprised," he announced lightheartedly before his expression darkened, "Is that why you're here? In town and in need of a quickie?"

"No!" Sidney replied quickly. "It's… it's not like that anymore. It's more than that. I-I love her."

"You… you do?" Sorcha's older brother looked at him disbelievingly.

"That's why I'm here. I need her to know that. I told her before, but, but she said it wasn't enough. But it has to be enough, because I can't offer her anything else besides myself. I need her to understand that I don't care about any of the bullshit and that I'm willing to be second-place. So please, can I speak to her?"

He stared at Sidney for a while, processing his words skeptically before finally, he spoke, "I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing, but I'm gonna trust you on this. It certainly explains a lot.

"Don't fuck this up, alright? Or Finn and I will fuck you up. Sorcha's not here, but I can tell you where she is. And you're going to find her and bring her back. We want our little sister to be back like she used to be. At this point, perhaps you are the only one capable of doing this."