Shock and anger exploded through me. "Ya feckin' prick!" I yelled. "I'm gona feckin' beat the shite outta ya, ya mother feckin' dickhead!" I jumped to my feet.
"That's it," Fionn said. "Come on, ya wanker. What a silly cunt ya are. I'm done watchin' ya act like a bloody muppet."
That was it. I was going to kick his arse straight into next week. "I'm bloody sick of ya interferin' in me life," I said as I lunged for him, tackling him onto the couch. I raised my hand to slam it into his manky pretty-boy face when Eileen screamed.
"Wait!" I paused, my fist in the air. Fionn looked over at her, too. "Not in here. Beat his arse outside," she said to Fionn.
"Beat my arse," I said in disbelief. "I'm your brother."
Eileen crossed her arms. "Aye, and you're a bleedin' eejit."
Anger engulfed me. I had lived in utter misery for the past three months, limping through life as if every part of me was broken beyond repair. Worse, I felt sick and wrecked with grief over seeing Lydia tonight. Watching her walk out the door because I'd told her to . . . gutted me. And now I needed my arse beaten? By the people who were supposed to care for me? Suddenly a fight seemed like the best bloody idea I'd ever heard. "Fine," I growled, heading for the door, "let's do this."
Courtney was talking shrilly about something, but I didn't give a feck what it was. I ignored her, flinging the door open and stepping outside into a world of softly whirling white, fat snowflakes falling from the sky. More snow? I thought the few flakes from earlier would have stopped by now. It wouldn't stick I'd guess, but something about it felt magical for just a moment and gave me pause. But then I heard Fionn stomping behind me, and my anger bubbled up again.
I stopped in the open area in front of Eileen's house and turned. Fionn was already advancing on me and when he got within a few feet, he stopped. We stared each other down for a moment. "I gave ya a few months, but ya came to the wrong conclusions, ya stubborn gobshite. I didn't want to have to beat some sense into ya, but enough is a feckin' nough," he said. "I'm a bloody monkey's uncle if I'm gona watch ya self-destruct."
"This isn't your business, Fionn," I gritted, stepping closer.
"You're me business, Brogan Ramsay, whether ya wanna be or not. And I'm your business. I'm your family." He was my family. I loved him like a brother. His fist slammed into my stomach, and I doubled over. I grunted as I caught my breath, surprise and red rage spreading like wildfire through my veins. I was going to bloody kill my brother now. My fist connected to his jaw, and he stumbled backward.
"She forgives ya," he sputtered, spitting out a mouthful of blood, the red a bright splotch on the pristine white carpet of snow.
"I don't bloody want her forgiveness," I growled. Goddamn it! I'd suffered every day since she'd been gone, every hour an effort to get through. And I would be damned if I was going to go backward now. Not that I'd moved forward very far.
Seeing Lydia tonight had highlighted that fact and tormented me. I had already forgiven her. Her betrayal hurt, but I had put her in an impossible position. I could hardly blame her for trying to help her brother. But when she'd said those three words, I forgive you, I'd wanted to grab her and hold her so tightly we'd meld together and no one could ever separate us again. But I wouldn't. I wouldn't give in to my own selfish wants and take anything from her ever again. Even if she wanted to give me a second chance, I wouldn't let her. I didn't deserve any more chances, and she should have far better than me. Someday she'd fall in love with a man who deserved her, with a man who hadn't killed her brother, who hadn't set out to ruin her life and succeeded by every definition. I would do one thing right by Lydia—the only thing I'd ever done right by Lydia—I would let her go.
It doesn't matter if you allow it or not. I still forgive you all the same. I still . . . I still love you all the same.
Lydia. Mo Chroí.
Fionn came charging for me and I braced as his head connected to my shoulder and we went down hard, my back connecting to the ground in a jarring smack, the air releasing from my lungs in a loud whoosh.
I groaned as Fionn scrambled up until he was kneeling over me, his arm rising to hit me again. "She doesn't really forgive me, Fionn," I wheezed out. His arm halted in midair. I took a few deep breaths, my lungs expanding. "She thinks she does because she . . . she's generous and kind. But . . . she'll always remember what I did, who I am, and eventually . . . she'll leave me again, or betray me again," I gasped. "It'll just be a matter of time. I can't . . . I can't . . ." Fionn's fist slammed into my jaw.
"Feck!" I yelled. "What the feck?" My face felt like it was on fire.
"Jaysus. Still wrong, ya dopey dick," Fionn muttered, raising his arm again. I dodged his fist, rolling to the side.
We wrestled for a few minutes, a stick poking into my back so violently, I thought it might have broken through my skin. I yelled out and Fionn paused. I took the opportunity to nail him in the gut. He let out a loud whoosh of air, falling over. He groaned, clutching his stomach and I paused, which gave him just enough time to roll toward me again and attack. I went slamming to my back again and groaned.
"Okay, okay. Jaysus, what do ya want, Fionn?"
He fell to his back beside me with a small moan. For a few seconds, we lay looking up into the gently falling snow. The fat flakes melted as they hit my skin, feeling good against my hot, injured face.