by H G Lynch
My Dad watched us with a small frown on his mouth and a line between his brows. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses and sighed. “I think you should show Ruairidh out, Iz.”
I nodded, and Ruairidh followed me to the front door, grabbing his leather jacket and shrugging it on. He saw the disappointment on my face, and smiled softly. He brushed his fingertips across my cheek.
“Don’t look so sad. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” I sighed.
He kissed my forehead, then my lips, and lingered there against my mouth. “Mmm . . . I should go.”
“Yeah,” I breathed with no will behind the word.
He chuckled, kissed me once more, and slipped out into the night.
Chapter Twenty-Two
** Islay **
I returned to the living room warily, wondering how long I was going to be grounded for. Dad had turned off the music and was sweeping up the crushed rose petals on the floor. When I stepped into the room, my heels clicking on the wooden flooring, he looked up. I couldn’t read his expression, which probably meant he was angrier than I’d thought. I just hoped he wasn’t too angry at Ruairidh. He’d only been trying to make me happy, and the one dance we’d shared had been perfect. Not to mention the kissing.
I opened my mouth, ready to explain and take the grounding I knew was coming. “Look, Dad, I—”
He shook his head. “Don’t. Don’t apologise, Islay.”
I closed my mouth, my shoulders slumping. God, I was in so much trouble, and I felt horrible for disappointing him so badly. At the same time, I felt a pang of righteous anger. After all, Dad had only said I couldn’t go to the dance. He hadn’t said anything about the dance coming to me.
Dad sighed and propped the sweeping brush against the wall, coming to stand in front of me. To my surprise, he enveloped me in an abrupt hug. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t realise you were so upset about the dance.”
I laid my cheek against his shoulder and shrugged. “I . . . I know it’s just a stupid dance, and it’s not really important. I just . . . really wanted to go this time. But it’s okay. Please don’t be mad at Ruairidh. He was only trying to cheer me up.”
“I’m not mad, honey,” he said, kissing the top of my head. He let me go and picked up the sweeping brush again. Then he gave me a small smile. “So, did you have fun with that boy?” he asked, and I heard the teasing edge to his voice.
I blushed and nodded. “Yeah, I did actually.”
He mock frowned at me over his glasses. “But not too much fun, right?”
I grinned. “Ruairidh was a perfect gentleman all evening,” I lied, thinking of the wild way he’d kissed me before Dad had come home and interrupted. I held out my wrist to show Dad the corsage. “Look, he even brought flowers.”
Dad chuckled. “Do you like him, Islay?” he asked with a wry look.
I looked down at the pile of rose petals he’d swept up. “I . . . yes. I like him a lot. But . . . it’s complicated. He’s Angus’s brother, and he’s . . . sort of hard to read.”
“You want to know what I think?”
I eyed him. “Not really.”
“You should. I do have the inside scoop on how teenage boys think.”
“Are you sure you can remember that far back?” I smirked.
“Ha, ha. Funny kid.” He pretended to bat me with the end of the sweeping brush. “Much as it pains me to admit it, I think this boy likes you, Izzy. Lord knows he’s trouble. A boy like that, after seeing what he did, what happened to his father, he’s damaged goods.”
“Dad,” I murmured, though I was surprised he’d seen beyond Ruairidh’s lip piercing and tattoos to the broken boy inside that I saw.
“But,” he went on, ignoring my protest, “a boy like that wouldn’t do something like this for just any girl. Take my word for it. And you’re a responsible girl. I know that. I trust you. Just . . . try not to get into too much trouble with him, will you? I don’t want to get a call in the middle of the night to bail you outta jail for something.”
“Dad,” I whined, embarrassed.
He held up his hands. “I’ll say no more on it. Off to bed with you.”
I sighed and kissed him on the cheek. “Night, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you too, sweetie.”
I climbed the stairs in my high heels, checked on Peter—he was still asleep, drooling on his teddy—and then slipped into my room and locked the door. I kicked off my heels and flopped onto my bed, grinning uncontrollably.
Ruairidh had said he would call tomorrow—I couldn’t wait.
** Ruairidh **
As I walked the darkened, quiet streets toward home, I was lost in my thoughts, replaying that bone-scorching kiss with Islay. I didn’t know whether to be glad her dad interrupted us, or seriously pissed off. But I knew it was probably a good thing he had; I knew perfectly well that I wouldn’t have stopped if he hadn’t come home and broken us up. I’d lost control, lost sight of the good guy I was trying so desperately to be for her.
But, God, that dress of hers could’ve brought a saint to his knees. It was like a sheath of sparkling water, rippling over the curves of her hips and the dip of her waist, barely containing the swells of her breasts. And her legs! Christ, when I saw the slit in her skirt all the way up to her thigh, I think I almost had a stroke.
The way she’d looked at me and told me I was incredible, those golden-bronze eyes of hers warm as whiskey, my heart had been beating so fast, I’d been sure she could hear it. I was a little bit terrified of what I was feeling, the need to be around her, the tightness in my chest when she smiled at me. The ache when I was away from her.
Oh, God. Don’t tell me I was falling in love with this girl. That would be bad for both of us, in so many ways. But I couldn’t bring myself to be selfless enough to care. I wanted her. I wanted her to need me. Even if it put us both in danger.
Speaking of, something was wrong. I came to a stop in the middle of the street and tilted my head, feeling a prickle running like a current up and down my spine. My instincts were ringing the alarm bells, and I cursed myself for bringing only my dagger in its ankle sheath. I’d been wary of bringing more weapons, knowing I’d be getting hands on with Islay and worried she’d feel them on me. I didn’t want to scare her, or have to explain why I was carrying around a small collection of knives on my person.
I knelt to pull out my red-handled dagger, keeping my eyes, ears, and my demon-hunting sixth sense wide open. Just as I closed my fingers on the leather grip of the dagger, the chills prickling my spine vanished, and my inner alarms went dead. I frowned and straightened, palming my dagger just in case. I scanned the street, letting my gaze roam in the hopes of catching a glimpse from the corner of my eye, but there was nothing.
I wondered if I’d just had a false alarm. Usually, my instincts were never wrong, but I was getting out of practise, and I’d been distracted. It was possible it had just been a brush of cold air.
Still, I kept hold of my dagger the rest of the way home.
I took a detour on the way home, hoping to lose whatever demon might or might not have been lurking around me. Angus was already home by the time I got there, and by the looks of it, he wasn’t alone.
Up on the porch, just out of the reach of the nearest streetlamp, Angus’s red-brown hair shone, tangled together with the dark locks of whatever girl was shoving her tongue down his throat. His date from the dance, I assumed, Malina. From what I could see of her, she was pretty hot, clad in a red dress that flared at the hips. Not as tasteful as Islay’s silver sheath, but then, I was probably biased, and I wasn’t exactly Gok Wan.
Angus was wearing a proper suit with a tie and everything, looking like every parent’s dream. Except for the fact that he was sucking face with a girl who probably hadn’t known he existed until a week ago.
I experienced an unexpected surge of rage toward my brother. If Islay could see him right then, she’d be devastated. I wanted to kick some sense int
o Angus’s thick head. Even if Islay was with me, she still thought of him as her best friend, and he hadn’t even spoken to her all week. He should have been calling her to ask how she was, instead of getting handsy with some chick he barely knew.
I could handle him being mad at me—that was par for the course—but the fact he’d turned his back on Islay suddenly made me see red. The little punk needed a good ass kicking, and it would start right after I broke up his make-out session on the porch.
I strode up to the house and called out, “Hey, Angus. Don’t you think you should be getting inside? It’s time you took your meds.”
I saw Angus tense and pull away from his date, turning a laser-glare on me. “Fuck off, Ruairidh.”
Yeah, right. Not happening, baby bro. I turned and smiled at his date. Up close, she was really beautiful, but her eyes were just a little too far apart. “Hi there. Malina, is it? Nice to meet you. I’m Angus’s brother, Ruairidh.”
Malina eyed me as if she was a starving wolf, and I was a bloody steak. “Hello,” she purred, her voice faintly accented. Russian? Polish, maybe. Something like that.
Angus gritted his teeth. “Where have you been?” he barked at me.
I slid him a casual glance. “Hmm? Oh, I was with your girlfriend.”
Malina flashed him a frown. “You have a girlfriend?”
“No,” Angus said without taking his glower off me. “No, my brother’s just being an arse.”
“Ouch, baby brother, that hurts.”
I pulled a mocking sad face, and he twitched as if he was considering punching me in the nose. With a smug smirk, I welcomed him to try it. It would give me the excuse I needed to hit him back, and hopefully, knock some sense into him. Or, at the very least, it would feel good to take out some of my anger on him.
But he didn’t take the bait. Instead, he took a deep breath and turned to Malina. “I’m sorry, Lina, but I have to go now. Are you okay to drive home?”
Lina nodded, pursing her lips unhappily. She leaned in to kiss Angus, but he turned his face away so she only got his cheek. Clearly annoyed, she flashed me a glare, stalked off down the steps, and hopped into a sleek little Audi TT parked at the curb.
As soon as she pulled away, Angus shoved me hard enough to make me stumble. “What the hell is your problem? Do you get off on making everyone else miserable, or is it just me?”
“Mostly it’s just you,” I replied glibly.
Angus snarled at me. “Why? Why do you do it? You already took Islay. What more could you possibly want?”
My eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t take anything from you, Angus. Islay isn’t a toy in the sandbox. You pushed her away because she didn’t hate me like you wanted her to. You’re meant to be her best friend, but you can’t get past your own jealousy and insecurity, so you shut her out!”
Angus’s face turned red. “That’s bullshit! You’ve been trying to get in with Islay since the day you met her! And, clearly, you got what you wanted. Did you have fun tonight? You know she’s going to regret it in the morning—”
Realising what he was implying, I snapped. I grabbed him and slammed him against the side of the house, pressing my face close to his. “Fuck, this isn’t about me! This is about you and your fuck-ups for once! Do you even know how messed-up she’s been since you stopped talking to her? You know what it did to her when she found out you had a date for the dance? I found her sobbing her eyes out in the girls’ bathroom! She was a wreck, Angus, and that was your fault! Tonight was the first time that you didn’t come up in conversation when were together. She still loves you, Angus. Just because it isn’t the way you want, you don’t get to throw away her friendship like it’s rubbish!”
I was so angry I was shaking, and Angus must’ve seen it in my face, because he didn’t say a word. I swore viciously and let go of him, clenching and unclenching my fists. Jesus, why did everything have to be so damned fucked-up?
“Ruairidh, I . . . I didn’t know . . . .” Angus murmured quietly.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, refusing to look at him because, if I did, I’d haul off and deck him. “Of course you didn’t Angus, because you didn’t ask. You were too busy worrying about your own fucking ego. So yes, I went to her house tonight because she was grounded and couldn’t go to the dance. She was disappointed, and I didn’t want her to be alone while you and Ashley were out having fun without her.” I raked a hand through my hair. “Do you know how wrong that is, Angus? That I had to be the good guy?”
Angus made a sound as if I’d stabbed him in the gut, and I finally looked at him. He’d gone pale, his expression anguished. Good, I thought, but I was too damn tired to really mean it. I was just so done with Angus and his shit.
“Oh God . . . .” he whispered. “Ruairidh, please . . . don’t tell her what you saw tonight. I . . . I’ll talk to her, I swear.”
I laughed bitterly. “Why would I tell her? Unlike you, I’m not trying to hurt her, or punish her, or whatever it is you’re trying to do. And by the way,” I added wearily, “I didn’t sleep with her. You can keep thinking of me as the enemy if you want, Angus, but the truth is, I want the same thing you should want. I want Islay to be happy.”
Exhausted, I left him standing on the porch, wallowing in his own guilt, and went inside.
Chapter Twenty-Three
** Islay **
I was fighting with Peter over his bowl of porridge when my mobile buzzed in my pocket. I’d been carrying it around all day, waiting for Ruairidh to call, and when I felt it go off against my hip, my heart soared into my throat. I dropped the plastic spoon I’d been using to try to feed Peter with, and scrambled to pull my phone out of my jeans pocket. I hit Call to answer it without looking at the screen, and said, “Ruairidh?”
There was a pause on the other end, and then a familiar voice answered, “Eh, no. No. It’s me . . . Angus.”
I froze, my heart freefalling into my stomach. “Oh,” I whispered.
I heard him sigh over the phone. “Look, Iz—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“What?”
A well of anger sprang a leak in my chest. How dare he call me? He hadn’t spoken to me all week, and then he decided to call, the night after the dance? He must’ve found out that Ruairidh had been with me, and he was just calling to make sure my virginity was intact. As if it was any of his business.
My voice came out hard when I said, “I said, don’t call me that. Only my friends get to call me Iz, and you stopped being my friend the second you turned your back on me last week.”
“God, Islay, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I . . . .” he trailed off, and there was a muffled scratching sound, as if he’d put his hand over the phone. There were stifled voices, and then Angus was back. “Look, I need to talk to you. Can I come over? Please?”
“If you need to talk to me, that’s what phones are for, so talk.”
He made a frustrated sound and muttered something to someone else on the other end of the line. I smiled as I realised he must’ve been talking to Ruairidh.
As soon as Angus came back on, I said, “Let me talk to Ruairidh.”
“Islay—”
“Let me talk to him, Angus.”
He swore. There was a moment of silence, the sound of the phone switching hands, and then Ruairidh’s Irish-accented voice.
“He’s not getting anywhere, is he?”
I grinned, lighter just from the sound of his voice. “Nope. Not a chance. He can’t ignore me for a week and then just expect to apologise and be my best friend again. It doesn’t work like that.”
“I know. I know, babe. But maybe . . . just talk to him, okay?”
I blinked. “Say what? Since when are you on his side?”
“I’m not. Believe me, Islay, I’m on your side. But I can see it’s hurting you, not having your best friend. I don’t want you to give up your friends because of me. Even if one of them happens to be my idiot brother.”
“Ruairidh . . . .” I sighe
d. “It’s not because of you. It’s because of him. He decided to pitch a fit instead of accepting that you and I were friends. He turned his back on me, when I could’ve really used him. In the end, you were the one who was there for me, and that’s his own fault. I don’t regret . . . .” Falling in love with you, was what I wanted to say, but I swallowed the words. “I don’t regret whatever this is going on between us, but I’m not ready to forgive him just yet.”
“Yeah,” Ruairidh murmured. “Yeah, I get that. Just for the record, I think he really does feel bad. I don’t think he realised how badly he’d fucked up until I told him last night.”
“You talked to him about this?”
“Eh, talked. Yelled. Whatever.”
“Ruairidh!”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t punch him. Although, trust me, I really wanted to. Almost as badly as I wanted to get you out of that dress last night.”
I heard the smirk in his voice, and blushed, hoping Angus wasn’t still listening.
Then I heard Angus yell, “You’re such a fucking sleaze, Ruairidh!”
I winced. “Crap.”
“Oh, relax. He deserves a little torture, and he knows we didn’t get naked or anything. I think he was more worried about that than anything else when I got home last night. I swear, he thinks I have no self-control.” He snickered.
“Well, you didn’t seem particularly in control when we were on the sofa,” I murmured, smirking.
He chuckled, his voice turning husky, and his lilting Irish accent coming out to play. “Don’t remind me. I had to walk home with a frickin’ hard-on after seeing you in that dress.”
“Ruairidh!” I gasped, somehow still able to be shocked at his crassness.
He just laughed. “You’re so adorable when you blush,” he teased.
“How do you know I’m blushing?”
“Because you always blush when I talk like that. Maybe I should say things like that more often, just to watch you blush. What other words are crass enough? Fucking. I already know you blush when I say fucking.”
