“You both staying?” he asked tentatively.
Orla took a breath, the kind she took when she was psyching herself up for something. “Actually, I need to talk to you about that.”
His gaze cut to me again, narrowing. I stepped in closer behind her, steady and unwavering even though the guy was built like a damn mountain.
“Danny, you know Tyler and I have been seeing each other for a while, obviously,” she started. “I’ve…been staying with him since coming back from America.”
He frowned, confused, like he couldn’t figure out why this was suddenly a confession. She hesitated, and I could feel the words clogging up in her throat.
So I jumped in.
“Look, Danny, I know you see all the shit the media writes about me, but it’s bullshit. I love your sister more than anything. I really do.”
Her head whipped toward me like she wanted to set me on fire. Too late. The words were already out.
“What Orla’s trying to say is…” I swallowed, trying to make it sound smoother than it was. “We got married. In Vegas. She’s been trying to find the right way to tell you.”
Yeah. Definitely sounded better in my head.
He wasn’t saying anything. Just blinked hard, like his brain was buffering, trying to catch up to what I’d just dropped on him. Which, given the number of tackles and head knocks this guy had probably taken, wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.
Then he snapped to life, voice slicing through the silence. “You marriedhim? In Vegas?” Like I wasn’t even standing there.
“Yes,” Orla said quietly, looking for all the world like a teenager caught sneaking back in past curfew.
“Is there something fucking wrong with you?” he hissed at her.
“Hey, man…” I cut in, heat rising in my chest. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
His eyes finally locked on me, hard as stone. “You can shut up. Orla, what the fuck? You’ve seen what he’s like. Mum would’ve been mortified.”
That did it. Straight below the belt, in every way possible. I stepped round her, fists tight, my whole body buzzing. “Alright, that’s enough…”
I didn’t even get the rest out before his fist connected with my eye socket. Clean, square, stars bursting across my vision.
I staggered back, my vision swimming. Every instinct in me screamed to swing back, to level him out. My fists curled, body burning for it, my teeth clenching so tight my jaw popped. I wanted it.Fuck, I wanted it.
But he was her brother. Hitting him wouldn’t prove I loved her; it would prove he was right about me.
Then I caught Orla’s face, that flicker in her eyes that said she half expected me to lose it. That's what stopped me harder than the punch itself.
I backed up a step, placed my finger to my brow where I felt warm blood. My eyebrow was split. Great. Headlines would love that.
“Danny!” Orla’s voice cracked like glass. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He was pacing awkwardly, chest heaving, fists flexing like he needed something else to hit. “You expect me to just be fine with this? My little sister marrying him, a walking scandal, in some fucked-up Vegas whorehouse wedding, no less?”
My vision went white-hot. Who the fuck did he think he was talking to? I surged forward, ready to get in his face, but Orla spun, throwing herself between us, palms flat against both our chests.
“Enough!” she screamed, sharp enough to slice the room in two. “Unless both you idiots want to be on tomorrow’s front pages courtesy of the neighbors.”
Danny’s jaw locked tight, eyes still blazing. “You’re the idiot, Orla. Dad’s gonna be heartbroken.”
That was it. I couldn’t take another second of him tearing her down. “You wanna hate me, fine,” I snapped, my voice edging on dangerous. “But don’t you dare make her feel shitty for loving me. You don’t get to do that.”
He blinked at me, completely thrown. He had no comeback, just a bitter huff of laughter as he yanked his T-shirt over his head and grabbed his keys. He stormed past us, his shoulder slamming mine harder than necessary, and the door went with a crack loud enough to rattle the frame. Heavy, uneven footsteps thundered down the stairs until the building fell quiet again.
When I turned back, Orla was already dropping onto the sofa like the fight had wrung the last breath out of her. She pressed her palms to her face, shoulders shaking.
