by H G Lynch
“Where were you this morning?” Angus snapped, his blue eyes narrowed.
I sighed. This was just not my day, was it? “Got stuck in traffic,” I muttered, moving to stalk past him and his groupies, but he stuck out an arm to block me. I looked at it for a moment, considering breaking it, then glared at him. “Move it or lose it,” I warned.
He didn’t flinch. “Where. Were. You?”
I turned toward him, so we were almost nose-to-nose. Then I smirked. “Ask your girlfriend. She left her panties on my bedroom floor—”
I saw the punch coming a split second before I felt Angus’s knuckles crash into my jaw, pain flaring along my cheek. I stumbled back, but recovered quickly, returning the blow. Angus grunted as my fist met his face, and I felt a quick bite of guilt as I saw blood leak from his nose. The guilt faded quickly, replaced by an adrenaline-pushing rush as Angus lunged at me with a roar. I ducked back, light on my feet, dodging his blow and jamming an elbow into the space between his shoulder blades as he swung past me. With a growl, he went to his knees and sprang back up, tackling me at the knees and knocking me to the ground. The stuffed pack on my back cushioned my fall, but my head snapped back, whacking off the floor as Angus straddled my waist and lifted his fist back, ready to smash my face in.
I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain, excited for it.
But it never came. Slowly, I let out my breath and opened my eyes. Angus was still sitting on me, breathing hard, but Islay was behind him, her fingers wrapped around his raised fist. She was whispering in his ear, and the tension leaked out of his body as she spoke. After a minute, Angus sighed, and she helped him stand up. I rolled out of the way and slumped on the floor a metre away, watching them as something in my chest twisted hard.
Islay touched Angus’s face gently, and he winced. “That’s going to bruise,” she murmured, looking worried. “Are you okay?”
He nodded, though blood was still running onto his lips from his nose. Ashley searched in her pockets before holding out a tissue to him, and he muttered, “Thanks,” pressing it to his leaky nose.
Glancing over her shoulder, Islay looked at her friend and said, “Can you take him to the nurse please, Ash?”
Angus shook his head violently. “No. No nurse. I’ll be fine.”
Islay glared at him, propping her hands on her fists. “You’re going to the nurse. And don’t argue with me, Angus MacGregor.”
Ooh, Angus MacGregor. I’d never heard her use his full name before, and it seemed to steal the rest of the fight right out of him.
He bowed his head, looking guilty. The skin under his right eye was already swelling, and I winced at the sight of it. Dammit.
Heaving a sigh, Angus said, “Fine, I’ll go to the nurse. But only if you come with me.” He reached for her hand, and she smiled as he squeezed her fingers.
“I’ll be along in a minute, I promise. I just want to talk to Ruairidh for a second.”
I blinked. Oh, that couldn’t be good. Angus didn’t like the idea either. He scowled, gripping her hand.
“Iz, please, don’t—”
She gently disengaged her hand from his. “I’ll be right behind you. Go. Ash, go with him and make sure he doesn’t fall over or something.”
Ashley nodded solemnly, her eyes wide behind her glasses. She took Angus’s arm as she led him away, and he glanced back over his shoulder at Islay, and then at me. I ignored him as Islay approached me, her face stern and angry. I tilted my head back to look up at her, not quite ready to get off the floor yet.
“Yes?”
“Why did you do that?” she asked, her voice quiet. “You knew he’d hit you. You knew talking about me like that would piss him off. So why did you do it?”
That was a good question. Why did I do it? Why did I say that, knowing Angus would swing at me? I sighed and closed my eyes. The easy answer was that I’d done it because he’d pissed me off, that I was sick of him ragging on me all the time. The complicated answer was that, on some level, I felt like I deserved for him to hit me. Because I’d left him behind when I had gone to Ireland. Because I’d failed to protect Dad for him. Because I was, overall, a major arsehole who didn’t know how to fix things with his baby brother other than with violence.
“Well?” Islay barked, tapping her foot impatiently.
I looked up at her, feeling the despair on my face, and whispered, “I don’t know. God, I don’t know, Islay.” I put my head in my hands. Fuck, I was falling apart. I’d been slowly unravelling ever since Dad had died. I’d been trying to hold it together by focusing on my revenge, on getting back into shape, on the Catchi Demon, but all the distractions in the world couldn’t stave off the grief and confusion.
I felt my eyes burn, and I swore, scrubbing the tears away. There I was, sitting on the floor in the middle of a school hallway, with my jaw swelling up from where Angus had hit me, and I was fucking crying in front of his girlfriend. I was such a fucking wreck.
A hand came down softly on my shoulder, and I flinched, jerking my head up. Islay crouched in front of me, all the anger gone from her face. Her whiskey-gold eyes were soft and warm as she looked at me. Her fingers came up and touched my face, probing the spot where Angus’s fist had undoubtedly left what would be a bruise. I winced, though her touch was light, and something deep in my stomach fluttered—not desire exactly. Something else, something I couldn’t, or didn’t want to, put a name too.
“Sorry,” she murmured, pulling her hand back.
I felt suddenly cold without her fingers on my skin. I’d take the pain, just for a little more of her touch.
“You’ll need to put ice on that.”
I forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Yeah. Baby bro’s got a hell of a right hook.”
She shook her head, probably in exasperation that I was still making snide remarks. She stood up, smoothing down her shirt, and hesitated, looking down at me. “Do us all a favour, Ruairidh, stop hating yourself. And stop using Angus as your punisher.”
With that, she turned and walked away, chasing after Angus and Ashley. I gaped after her, wondering how the hell she’d seen through me so easily, how she’d read my self-loathing so clearly. Was it stamped on my forehead? Or was I losing my touch at hiding everything I felt?
What was it about that girl that made me want to be a better man, or at least less of an arsehole?
Fuck.
Chapter Thirteen
** Islay **
Come Saturday afternoon, I was pacing around the house nervously. Peter was napping, drooling on his favourite teddy—a fuzzy duck named Quack. Or “Wack,” as Peter pronounced it. I glanced at the clock on the living room mantelpiece; it was almost three p.m. Ruairidh should have been there fifteen minutes ago. I was starting to wonder if he was bailing on me again.
I’d had to ask him to meet me for our tutoring session at my house because my dad was working again, and Layla was busy decorating her florist shop for the upcoming End of Year Dance that the students all threw. The dance was to celebrate the end of the college year, and the start of summer holidays, and everyone went to Layla’s shop, Elysium, to buy flowers for their dates. Everyone chipped in some money to hire out the local convention centre for the dance – it was a town tradition.
With Layla busy, she couldn’t babysit Peter for me while I tutored her son. So I had to stay home and deal with two whiny boys instead of one.
Angus had offered to come over too. In fact, he’d almost insisted on it. But, after their fight on Tuesday, the boys could barely stand to be in the same room together. I assured Angus I could handle his brother and that nothing would happen, and he eventually gave in very reluctantly, saying, “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just don’t trust him. Be careful around him, Iz. He’s dangerous.”
I’d nodded when he’d said that, and reassured him a few times that I’d be fine. I knew Ruairidh could be dangerous when he wanted. I’d seen him practising with his sword, and I’d seen the strength in his mus
cles, the skill and quickness of his body when he fought. But I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. He would smirk, say snarky things, and make innuendos, but I knew those were just a cover for his inner pain and grief. I’d seen him falling apart, seen the agony and tears in his eyes when he’d looked at me and told me he didn’t know why he’d provoked his brother.
Ruairidh was broken inside, and however well he hid it from his brother and his mother, he couldn’t hide it from me—not anymore.
When there was finally a knock on the front door, I jumped. I crossed the room and flung the door open. “You’re late.”
Ruairidh stood on the front step, looking unrepentant and wickedly sexy. He was wearing a faded leather jacket with ripped blue jeans and sturdy black boots that laced up to mid-calf. His hair was an unruly mess, as always, falling into his intense green eyes, and there was stubble on his jaw, hiding the faint bruising from his brother’s fist.
“Yeah, sorry. I almost had to fight Angus to get out the front door. He really doesn’t want me here alone with you.” A thin smile curved his lips. “Although, I’m not sure what he expects me to do, beat you up or fuck you?”
I blushed at his crude words. But before I could say anything in reply—god only knows what that might have been—I heard my mobile ringtone go off in the living room. I motioned for Ruairidh to follow me inside, and he shut the door behind him as I led him into the living room and grabbed my buzzing phone off the coffee table. I wasn’t all that surprised to see Angus’s name on the screen. I hit the Call button to answer it, tapping it again to put him on speaker.
“No, Angus, your brother and I are not having sex.”
He choked on whatever he’d been about to say. “You’d better not be!”
I rolled my eyes and caught sight of Ruairidh’s grin. I smirked. “Anything else you wanted to check on, Angus?”
“He is actually there, right? ‘Cause I warned him that if he bailed on you again, I’d—”
“Yes, I’m here, dickhead. Keep your panties on. I just got here,” Ruairidh said in exasperation, rolling his eyes.
There was a pause on other end of the line, and then Angus said, “Take me off speaker please, Iz.”
I sighed and did as he asked, putting the phone back to my ear. “What is it?”
“I just wanted to say thank you. For putting up with him. And for keeping me from beating his teeth in the other day.”
“No problem. Look, Angus, I have to go teach your brother how to count. But I’ll call you later.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Okay. Good luck, Iz.”
He hung up, and I stared at the phone in my hand for a second before dropping it on the coffee table. I looked at Ruairidh, whose eyes were slitted as he watched me.
“Come on, Tough Guy. Let’s go tackle some trigonometrical equations.”
Half an hour later, it was obvious that Ruairidh didn’t really need my help. When he focused, he knew what to do. He was smart. I gathered that his problem wasn’t that he couldn’t do the work, but that he didn’t try.
As I watched him complete equation after equation—all correctly—I began to wonder about Ruairidh. I propped my chin on my hand, leaning my elbow on the kitchen table, seated across from him, and questioned whether everything Angus had told me about his brother was really true. I had assumed it was because, as far as I knew, Angus had never lied to me before. But having seen the damaged, soft side of Ruairidh, I wasn’t so sure anymore. Maybe Angus hadn’t outright lied to me, but he may have exaggerated things, like how many times Ruairidh had been arrested and how many girls he’d slept with.
After all, Angus was clearly biased, and I could understand if he was trying to protect me by trying to scare me away from Ruairidh. But I wasn’t that easily scared off, and I sensed something inside Ruairidh beyond his anger and grief. I got the feeling he was lonely. He hadn’t made any friends at college, because half the guys were scared of him and the other half were afraid he’d steal their girlfriends. The girls liked him. I heard them talking in the bathrooms, or in the canteen between lectures. They all thought Ruairidh was hot, in a bad boy way, and they all wanted to “take him for a ride.”
I could understand that. I mean, I wasn’t blind—the guy was clearly attractive. Even I could admit that. And I didn’t doubt for a second that he knew what to do with a girl and how to do it well.
But Ruairidh needed a friend more than he needed a one-night stand, and since his brother obviously wasn’t going to be it, it looked like it was down to me.
“Hey, Islay. Did I do this one right?” Ruairidh lifted his head and pushed the paper towards me.
I glanced over it, checking his working, and smiled. “Yep. All perfect. You really don’t need me, do you?”
He blinked, his expression free of sarcasm or anger for once. Instead, he just looked a little confused. Maybe a bit lost. “Yeah, actually, I think I do,” he murmured, looking straight at me.
I bit my lip, understanding that he wasn’t talking about the Maths. Although, I wasn’t entirely certain what he was talking about. He was so hard to read. So I just shrugged. “I think we can take a break for a while. You want anything to eat or drink?” I asked as I slid out of my chair and grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge.
“Coke would be good,” he said.
I snagged him a can too and tossed it to him. He caught it easily and popped the top, slurping the foam that spilled out. I sat down across from him again and opened my own can, looking anywhere but at him as I sipped the cool, fizzy liquid goodness.
After a minute of silence, he lowered his can to the table and asked, “So how long have you and my brother been together?”
I opened my mouth to tell him that Angus and I weren’t technically together, and then shut it again. Angus had told him we were together for a reason, and I didn’t want to embarrass him by explaining that it was a ruse. So I shrugged again and said, “A couple of months. Not that long. But we’ve been best friends for years.”
Ruairidh nodded. “He’s a good guy. I guess he does all the proper boyfriend stuff, right? Brings you flowers, and holds your hand in public, and tells you you’re beautiful.”
Blushing, I ran my finger around the rim of my can. “Sure.”
“You’re a bad liar.”
My head jerked up, and I saw Ruairidh was smirking. “What? I’m not—”
“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “All that blushing? It’s totally obvious. Can’t believe I didn’t figure it out before.”
I stammered for a moment, feeling my cheeks heat even more, and Ruairidh’s smirk only grew cockier. Eventually, I gave up on making a reasonable reply and just snapped, “Shut up.”
He laughed. “I can understand why he’d lie to me. I can even understand why you’d go along with it. What I don’t get is why he had to lie. He clearly likes you, and you obviously like him, so what’s stopping you from getting together?” He lifted his can, eyeing me over the edge as he took a sip.
I scowled, folding my arms. “What business is it of yours?”
He lowered his can, his smirk gone now, and stared at me very seriously. My heart stuttered at the intensity of his attention.
His brows crunched together, and he opened his mouth as if he was about to say something. Then he shook his head and muttered, “None, I guess. None at all.”
I frowned at him, confused and wondering what he’d been about to say before he’d changed his mind. Unsure how to reply, I sipped my Coke to buy myself some time, and to cool my blushing face. Before I had to think of something to say, though, Peter started wailing from upstairs. Ruairidh jerked at the sudden noise and lurched to his feet, his muscles tense, like he was ready for a fight.
Startled by his reaction, I stood up. “Calm down. It’s just my baby brother. He must’ve woken up from his nap.”
Ruairidh relaxed. “Oh.”
I smiled. “You sit down and do some more equations. I’ll be right back.”
He hiccupped in my arms, and I carried him downstairs. I peered into the kitchen, checking that Ruairidh was working. He was, his dark head bent over the paper as his pencil scratched away. Relieved, I took Peter to the downstairs bathroom to where his changing things were kept, and got him cleaned up and into a fresh nappy. By then, he’d stopped hiccupping, but he still looked fiercely unhappy, his little fists gripping my t-shirt.
Carrying him on my hip, I strolled into the kitchen, aiming for the pre-prepared bottle of milk I’d left in the fridge earlier.
Ruairidh looked up and grinned when he saw my baby brother. “Someone looks unhappy.”
I sighed, propping the fridge door open and taking out Peter’s plastic bottle. I shook it, bumping the fridge door shut with my free hip. “Yeah, he’s cranky ‘cause he woke up with a wet nappy.”
Ruairidh stood up. “Here, let me hold him for a second.”
I eyed him warily and handed over my baby brother. Ruairidh took him easily, cradling him in one thick arm and prodded at his chubby baby belly with one finger.
“Hey there, little man. How you doing today, kiddo?”
Peter blinked up at him and then broke into giggles, reaching to grab Ruairidh’s lip-ring. Ruairidh laughed, gently pulling Peter’s hand away. “Hey, we had this discussion before, remember? No grabbing.” He tickled Peter’s tummy, and the baby shrieked and writhed, laughing wildly.
I watched, awestruck, as Ruairidh smiled at my baby brother, all his harshness and glibness wiped away. For just a second, he looked actually happy. He was always good-looking, but in that moment, Ruairidh was truly beautiful, his smile wide and open, and his eyes shining. I felt a flutter in my chest and quickly looked away, shoving the bottle in the microwave and setting it to heat just long enough to warm up the milk.
