She lowered her eyes, her voice came out small. “I don’t know if he ever will be.”
“You kidding?” I tipped her chin up until she met my eyes. “My charm worked on you, didn’t it?”
That earned me a swat on the arm, but then she let herself collapse against my chest, her breath shaky against my neck. I held her tight, one hand stroking slowly through her hair like I always did to recalibrate.
“It’s gonna be fine,” I murmured into her hair. “Everyone just needs time. We speak to your dad next, then we plan our next move.”
Her fingers curled into my shirt, holding herself together, and I realized I was doing the same with her. Bruises, headlines, disapproving brothers, none of it scared me half as much as the thought of losing this.
Chapter 50
Orla
TENNIS BAD BOY TYLER REED STUMBLES OUT OF A&E WITH BLACK EYE AS RUMOURS SWIRL OF A POST TOUR DRUNKEN VEGAS WEDDING
Gwen:
I’m guessing you told Danny then?
Last night couldn’t have gone worse.
We’d finally told Danny about the wedding and now I had a brother who’d stormed off and gone radio silent, a husband with a black eye and glue holding his eyebrow together, and a whole family who were probably finding out I got married in Vegas from the bloody tabloids.
Not exactly the way I pictured breaking the news.
Neither of us slept last night. I could hear Tyler wincing every time he caught his wound on the pillow, an audible reminder of exactly what I’d dragged him into. My mind was too alive tosleep. I kept picturing the look on Danny’s face, like I’d ripped something from under him, hidden a dark secret. We were always scrapping with each other as kids, too close in age and temperament to ever let things lie but underneath it, we’d always been a team. Always ready to take on anyone else who dared cross one of us.
But this…this was different. This felt like a line I couldn’t un-cross. And now I had to tell Dad. Except the reality was, the tabloids had probably beaten me to it. I could already picture him in Cork, the phone ringing off the hook, fielding calls from outraged aunties and neighbours who all read the weekend Daily Mail before breakfast.
Tyler stirred and cracked one eye open, wincing as the pain set in again. “I’ll get you some ibuprofen,” I said quickly, pulling back the covers from my legs.
He caught my wrist. “No need, it’s fine. Nothing that won’t wear off in a minute.”
He pulled me into his arms gently and kissed me, his hand cupping my jaw reassuring me that he was ok. “I love you, you know that?” he murmured, smiling.
“I love you, too.” AndGod, I did. Achingly so. Which made this whole thing ten times harder.
“Let me at least make you coffee,” I said, still laden with guilt.
He gave me a crooked smile. “That I could be persuaded by.”
I slipped out to the living area, flicked the machine on and set my phone down on the side table. The hiss and grind of coffee filled the silence, the comforting scent of routine blooming through the room. By the time I’d set two mugs down, he’d wandered out of the bedroom, glorious and shirtless, and bruised. My eyes lingered on the rippling patterns of his biceps and I shook my head.
“I was going to bring it to you in bed.”
“Couldn’t stay still. Needed to get up,” he said, raking a hand through his hair.
That’s when my phone buzzed against the mahogany.
Dad.
My stomach bottomed out. My eyes shot to Tyler. “FaceTime. Dad.” The words scraped out of me in sheer panic. My chest was tight, breath shallow. Oh god.
“I’m right here, O. You need to answer him,” Tyler said firmly.
I swallowed hard, hand trembling as I swiped to accept. The screen steadied, and there he was, Dad’s lined face, reading glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose and a frown carved deep enough to cut me in two. My mouth went bone dry and I dropped into the armchair before my legs could give out.
Tyler moved quietly, perching on the coffee table in front of me. He lowered his eyes, loosened his shoulders to show he wasn’t intruding but close enough that I could feel his steady presence if I needed it.
