“Yes.”
“Your brother?”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“For a while.”
“What happened?”
I shrugged. “Rhys is older than me, but I’ve always been bigger—stronger, faster, whatever. He’s got the charm, I’ve got the brawn, you know?”
“I’d say you have plenty of charm.” Joe’s smirk was gentler than usual. “But go on... please. I want to know your story.”
And for the first time, I wanted—perhaps needed—to tell it. “There’s not a huge amount to it, really. My dad drank like an arsehole and kicked the shit out of my mum until Rhys and I got old enough to intervene. Then he kicked the shit out of us instead—but Rhys took the worst of it, because he was the oldest, and... well, like I said, I was bigger. And angrier too. I started playing rugby—and then I started hitting him back. It escalated until the neighbours called the police one too many times and he got sent down for domestic violence—for what he’d done to Rhys.”
“How long did he get?”
“Four years. Felt like four days, though. I was away at uni when he got out, but my mum and Rhys were still living in the old house. They had to move in the end. My mum’s a fucking trooper, but the whole thing messed with Rhys’s head. He went off the rails for a while, and that was the hardest thing for me.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t there. And I didn’t want to be. I had a new life—and I loved it. I didn’t want to go back.”
Joe stretched his long legs out in front of him. “I know how that feels.”
“Yeah, but youdidgo back. I didn’t. I left Rhys in Romford, and so did my mum. She moved to Spain six months after Dad died. Rhys was sorting himself out by then, but I still felt like shit about it.”
“Did he?”
“Hmm?”
“Did Rhys resent you for leaving?”
I mirrored Joe’s pose, noting that he was wearing the trainers I’d given him when he was in hospital. “Nah. He encouraged it because it bothered him that he hadn’t been able to protect me. He’s never understood that taking the worst of it when I was so young gave me time to do what I had to do. That if I’d had my ribs kicked in when I was twelve like he did, my fingers broken, I might not have had the chance to make things right.”
Joe hummed his understanding. “I hate that either of you had to get hurt.”
I shrugged. “It was a long time ago. And Rhys is okay now. He works as a paramedic and parties in sex clubs.”
“Wow.”
“Yup.”
Neither of us spoke for a while. Joe seemed to be digesting my tale of woe, and I didn’t have the heart to admit that I’d barely scratched the surface. Besides, what was the point? Life had moved on, and the details no longer mattered.
“What’s Rhys like?”
I turned my head at just the right moment to bury my face in Joe’s hair. “Contradictory. On the surface, he’s a bit of a lad, but he’s a sensitive soul, really. I was happy enough on my own until I met you, but he’s not like that. Sometimes it seems like he craves affection, you know? Even when it comes from the wrong place...especiallywhen it comes from the wrong place. And he doesn’t let anyone in. Not even me.”
“Did he hate your dad too?”
I lifted my shoulders again. “Maybe. We stopped talking about him after a while, so I don’t really know where he is on that.”
“Are you close?”
“Yes and no. We’re there for each other, but our lives are pretty much separate. Apart from—” I broke off with a chuckle.
