TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Fighting Back
Meet The McIntyres #3
Copyright © 2018 by Rebecca Barber. All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: May 2018
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
For everyone who’s been down and out and kicked around.
Don’t be ashamed of your story. It will inspire others.
;
The Meet the McIntyre books is a series surrounding a family of the five children. Each has their own story to tell.
The intended reading order is:
Beau
Gage
Holly
Ryan
Connor
It’d been three weeks since I’d come home wrapped so tightly in cotton wool I could barely breathe. They were treating me like I was breakable. I wasn’t. My bullshit tolerance had just run out. I was back in my childhood bedroom on the second floor of the old farm house I’d grown up in staring out the window. Connor, my older brother, had moved back in the same day. He tried to tell me it was just a coincidence and not to read anything into it, but I wasn’t an idiot. I knew why he was back living under Dad’s roof. And it definitely wasn’t for the company.
Everything about this situation was fucked up. Worst part about it, it was all my fault. If I hadn’t ended up in the hospital everything would be different. Connor would still be living in his make-shift apartment in the back of the shed, spending most of his day doing god knows what, only to return for food and sleep. Gage wouldn’t be dropping by, pretending to casually stop by each day. Or maybe he would. It wasn’t lost on me that every time he happened to swing by, he found his way down the paddocks to the house where his girlfriend Carly was living.
Then there was Beau. I think I’d pissed him off the most. Although he wasn’t my dad, he’d assumed the role and adopted the attitude without hesitation. From what Ryan—the only brother left who still spoke to me like there wasn’t something wrong with me—said, Beau was the one who’d stomped into the headmaster’s office at my fancy ass Sydney boarding school in his muddy boots and ripped jeans and withdrew me from classes on the spot. Although old Mr. Higgins tried to object, demand paperwork be completed, and counselling sessions conducted, Beau wasn’t listening. I was leaving. Immediately. Although I hadn’t been there, I could picture it. Higgins would have had a vein popping out of his forehead like he was going to explode while Beau puffed out his chest and folded his arms, waiting until he got his way. Beau always got his way. Well, except where Payton, his baker wife, was concerned. She was the only one I’d ever seen tame the beast. It was damn funny to watch.
Since I’d gotten home I’d spent a lot of my time holed up in my bedroom alone. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my brothers—I did—hell, I even loved the raging alcoholic that was my father, but I just needed some space. And sleep. My god! I didn’t realise how tired I was until I flopped down on my bed. Nothing had changed. My pink comforter with the small burn hole from an accident with incense sticks covered the bed, while the once pink walls were hidden beneath boy band pictures. My days had fallen into a sad routine, but right now, it was all I could manage. I’d climb from my bed early and shuffle downstairs. Even though I wasn’t hungry—I was never hungry these days—I’d stuff a piece of toast down my throat, making sure someone witnessed it. If they saw me eating it’d be one less thing for them to bitch about. And I really didn’t need them worrying about me any more than they already were. I’d already caused them enough grief.
After breakfast was done, I’d clean up. It felt good to be useful and doing something to help out. The place was huge and a lot of things were neglected. I know the boys were doing their best to stay on top of everything, but they weren’t supermen, even if they liked to believe they were.
While I’d been home over the Christmas break I’d made it my mission to keep the house clean. Even though no one lived in the main house except Dad these days, this was still my home. This was the place where all family dinners were held and news shared. Since I’d left though, it looked like no one had bothered to even try. After I’d cleaned the kitchen each morning, I’d toss a load of laundry in the washer then dart back to my room and shut the door.
Ryan, who was only a couple of years older than me, quickly became my favourite brother. I knew he was just as worried as the others, but he was so different he didn’t make me want to cry every time I looked at him. It was like he was the only one not judging me for my moment or moments of weakness. Somehow he understood. So when I asked him to help me put a lock on my bedroom door and the bathroom, although he looked torn, he shut up and did it anyway. For me.
I was sitting on my bed staring out the window. In the yard I could see Connor—well, his legs, at least—poking out from under some car I’d never seen before. Downstairs I could hear arguing but there was no way I was interrupting that. It was probably Dad and Beau again. Or Dad and Ryan. Seemed like that was all he did these days. Pick fights with the boys by pointing out all the things they were doing wrong. So many times I’d wanted to jump in and give him a piece of my mind, yet I kept my mouth shut and hid in the shadows. My brothers might not be doing things Dad’s way, and I’m sure as shit they weren’t doing everything perfectly either, but they were trying. They were getting up at the ass crack of dawn and going out and making sure the animals were fed and watered, fixing fences, and sowing crops. It was more than I’d seen Dad do in months. He barely made it to lunch these days without cracking open his first beer. It was disgusting really. Yet there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. About any of it. It wasn’t like Dad had even spoken to me since Gage had carried me through the door and laid me on my bed that first day.
Glancing around my room, I knew I needed to make some changes. This was my life now. I wasn’t going back to Sydney. When I’d dared to ask Beau about it, he promised me I’d never have to go anywhere I didn’t want to ever again. From the stubborn look on his face, I knew he meant every word. If I was staying here, it was time to clean this place up. All the old ribbons from my days of riding horses and competing in jumping competitions needed to be out of sight. I unpinned them from the wall and folded them up, feeling instantly better. The girl I was now wasn’t the same one who decorated this room and dreamt up wild dreams in here when she was a kid. I’d changed. I’d had to. Next to go were the posters. Although they were still cute in their matching outfits and perfect haircuts, I couldn’t look at them all day. Pulling them from the wall, the paint chipped as the sticky tape fought back. That was okay. I had every intention of painting as soon as I could. I needed
a fresh start and a new coat of paint seemed a relatively painless first step.
When the walls were bare, and rubbish piled high in the middle of the floor, a knock at the door shocked me out of my daze.
“Yeah?” My voice trembled as I started to fidget. Very rarely did someone knock on my door. If they wanted me, they’d send me a text and I’d come downstairs. I knew it was their way of trying to give me my space. It was weird and kinda awkward, but my brothers had no idea how to deal with me and all my shit. I couldn’t blame them. Truthfully, I had no idea how to deal with me and my shit either.
“Hey Hols. It’s just me. Can I come in?”
I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Of course it was Ryan. It was always going to be Ryan who tested the boundaries first. No one else would dare.
“Sure.”
Even though he’d installed the lock on my door, I hadn’t used it. I hadn’t felt the need to, which was a good sign. At least I thought it was. My shrink, the one they’d forced me to start seeing, wasn’t so convinced, but screw him. He had no idea what I’d been through. What I was still going through. Probably because I hadn’t told him, but whatever. If he wanted me to tell him, then I had to trust him. And I didn’t trust that stuck up asshole as far as I could kick him. Hell, even the people I did trust, people like Ryan, they didn’t know what had happened.
He pushed open the door slowly and slipped through the crack, shutting it behind him. “What’s going on in here?” he asked, gesturing to the pile of crap in the middle of the floor.
“Just cleaning up.”
I knew it was more than that, I just didn’t want to make it a big deal. What was the point? I wasn’t completely oblivious. I knew at some point I was going to have to talk to someone. One of them. Only right now I wasn’t ready. Until I had my scattered thoughts sorted in my own head, I had no illusions of explaining it in a way they’d understand. They’d have to just be patient with me—something none of them were any good at, really. They were boys. And not just boys, they were men. Manly men. They saw a problem, they jumped in and fixed it. It’s all they knew. It’s who they were. They never actually understood that there were some problems they couldn’t fix. Unfortunately for them, I was one of them.
I knew Ryan didn’t believe me, it was written all over his face, but he didn’t call me out on my lie. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves on his blue button down shirt before burying his hands in his jeans pocket.
“Need a hand?”
“That would be great. Thanks.” I offered him a small smile. It wasn’t much, it wasn’t enough, but it was all I had.
“So, where do you want me?”
For the next hour Ryan and I worked silently side by side. We carried rubbish downstairs and stuffed it in the barrels ready for the next time they were lit. When I’d headed that way with an arm full of teddy bears and dolls, he stopped me on the stairs.
“Where are you taking them?”
“Out the back.” Wasn’t it obvious?
“Why?”
“’Cause they’re garbage.”
“No, they’re not, Holly.”
“Yeah, Ryan, they are. They’re just taking up space. What am I supposed to do with them? I’m not a little kid anymore. I don’t need a teddy to cuddle at night to keep the demons away.” I was starting to lose my shit. I didn’t want to, I just couldn’t help it.
I was a retard when it came to dealing with my feelings. Probably the reason everything had gotten so out of hand. Even though I knew they were there, usually haunting me, I pushed them down, stuffed them in a box and sealed the lid, pretending like they didn’t exist. Nine times out of ten that worked for me. Sure, it perhaps was not the healthiest way of dealing with shit, but it was my way. It was all I had, and it worked for me. Right up until that moment when it didn’t. When it didn’t, that tenth time, that’s when I exploded like a nuclear bomb. Everything surrounding me was covered by a layer of my toxicity. I couldn’t help it. I hated being like this, I just couldn’t control it.
Standing on the steps, with an arm full of toys—my best friends and biggest sources of comfort when my brothers picked on me for wearing a pink dress, or having braids in my hair—I was about to explode in a way I never have before.
Tears streamed down my face before I could stop them. I felt my whole body shaking as my grip loosened. First to hit the floor was Big Ted. His chocolate brown furry body bounced down the steps. It was too much. Sinking to the floor right where I was, I didn’t even care that I was blocking the way. They could step over me or kick me out of the way, whatever. I couldn’t move. Staring at Big Ted’s abandoned body lying at the bottom of the steps, I let go.
I let go of everything. I wasn’t just sobbing. I was shattered. Cries racked my body. Snot ran from my nose. I struggled to suck in air. All while tears cascaded from my eyes. Ryan stayed silent, not saying a peep. He just sunk onto the step above me, wrapped his strong, warm arms around me, and held tight. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not anytime soon, anyway. Smoothing my hair and rubbing small circles on my back, he tried to soothe me. I loved him for it. Just when it was starting to work, Dad shuffled past the bottom of the staircase, pausing long enough to look up. The expression on his face broke me all over again. He was so hard. So unforgiving. I needed him to understand. I needed him to forgive me. I needed him to love me. He was my dad. It should have been him holding me while I fell apart, not my brother. He couldn’t do it, though. He didn’t want to. Instead, he sneered with disgust and kicked Big Ted out of his way, sending him sliding across the floor. Biting down on my bottom lip, I didn’t stop until I tasted blood in an attempt to stop myself from losing my shit and throwing things at the back of his head. Not that he’d feel it. He was probably too pissed to even notice. Asshole.
“Just ignore him, Hols,” Ryan whispered as he placed a soft kiss on my head.
I wanted to. I really did. It just hurt so fucking much. He was my dad. He was supposed to love me. He was supposed to be the one scaring off boys who came to pick me up for a first date. He was the one supposed to be threatening to sue the school that he paid a butt tonne of money for not protecting me. He wasn’t. Or he couldn’t. I wasn’t sure which, and if I was being perfectly honest, I was too tired to care. It still sucked. Thankfully I had four big brothers who stepped up and stepped in without whinging, hesitation, or invitation. Although each of them were different in every way you could imagine, they all seemed to have one thing in common: Me. I’d put them through hell yet they hadn’t disowned me or looked at me like I’d disappointed them. They’d just stepped in and stepped up. I’d never be able to repay them.
Feeling miserable and completely wiped out, I took a deep breath and held it. I didn’t want to be this girl any more. I’d spent too many long, lonely days feeling like this. I was over it. I wanted my life back. I had no idea how the hell I was going to get it back or what it would even look like when I did, what I would look like when I took back control of my own life, but I needed to start. And I needed to start now.
Pulling away from Ryan, I noticed the soggy patch on his shirt. He didn’t seem bothered about it, but I was. That couldn’t happen again. I was stronger than this. I’d survived more than this.
“Ready?”
It was kinda freaky how easily Ryan read my mind. I dreaded him asking if I was okay. I got asked that question a million times a day around here. At least it felt like I did. Any time someone came into the house to grab something to eat or a drink or whatever other bullshit excuse they made up to come in and check on me, they asked if I was doing okay or feeling all right. Each and every time they asked, I lied. Blatantly and unashamedly. It was just easier for all of us.
Summoning every piece of strength I had, and some I didn’t, I took hold of Ryan’s outstretched hand and found my feet. I hated that I was unstable, but I didn’t fall. Thankfully Ryan’s grip on me kept me steady.
Leaving the pile where they’d fallen, he led me back to my room. �
�So, I think we need a coat of paint. Hols, as much as I love you, I don’t think baby pink is really your colour anymore, do you?”
I giggled.
I fucking giggled.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d smiled, let alone laughed out loud. It felt fucking fabulous.
Ryan looked at me like I was insane, but that was okay. I probably was. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. “Can we go white?”
“White, hey?”
“Yeah.”
“I think we can arrange that. Need to go into town to get paint though.”
“Oh.”
Shit! I hadn’t thought of that. Since Beau had bounced his ute down the driveway three weeks ago, I hadn’t left the property. Hell, I’d barely left the house. I wasn’t sure I was ready to see people again. Deal with them. Get asked questions. Oh my god! The questions. There’d be so many. Why’s she back? Bet she couldn’t hack it in the city. Where’s she living now? Where’s her mother? So. Many. Questions. Questions I didn’t have answers to. Judgements I wasn’t ready to face. Truthfully, I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready. Now it seemed I had no choice. I was headed into town.
“It will be fine, Holly. I’ll drive. We’ll go straight to the store, get what we need, and be back before you know it.”
“C-can’t you just go?” I stuttered, embarrassed as anxiety began to take hold.
“Nope. You’re coming, little sis. It’s time.”
“No. No, it’s not time. It can’t be time.” I’d slipped into full-on panic mode now.
Something changed. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but it scared the crap out of me. Ryan’s usual calm, self-deprecating persona vanished and instead he was channelling his inner Beau. He became hard and had that stubborn look on his face. I knew what was coming. Tough love. I fucking hated tough love.
“Do you honestly think I’d let anything happen to you? That I’d let anyone hurt you? Hell, Holly, no one’s going to even get close enough to even speak to you. We will be in and out in a flash.”
Fighting Back (Meet the McIntyres Book 3) Page 1
