Adrenaline surges through me, but I hold myself back.
“She's my fucking sister!” Cavin growls. Then he lunges at me again, but this time I deflect the hit, and he doesn't connect.
“She's not your sister,” I say, slamming him into the counter.
He swings again. Cavin’s an experienced fighter, but I’ve been trained too.
He catches my arm and drives me into the table. The chair goes sideways. I land a punch to his gut, but he gets an elbow into my ribs. I shove him hard enough to put space between us, but he comes straight back.
“You fucking gobshite.”
I kick at him, deflect, and manage to get away. Then I move fast, spin, and he falls to the ground on his arse.
“Stop it. You're my fucking brother.” I hold a hand up. “You draw blood, and Seamus will fucking kill you. You know that.”
“I didn't know you were sleeping with her.”
I don’t respond.
“How long?”
Silence.
“How long, Declan?”
“Not long enough,” I tell him. “I love her.”
He moves again, and this time he grabs my collar. We're the same height, roughly, but he's been doing this since he was fifteen. Cavin fights because he's good at it. I fight because I have to. There's a difference, and right now I let him have it.
“Let go of me.”
“No. You let go of me.”
“Not until you calm down.”
“I am calm.”
But his jaw is tight, and his eyes are bright.
“She's pregnant.” His voice drops. “You fucking knocked her up. You're engaged. Do you know what this is going to do to us?”
“Aye, I fucking know.”
“And what the fuck are you going to do about it?”
“I'm working on it.”
“Working on it,” Cavin says. He moves like he's going to punch me again, but I shove him back. I grab him by the collar and put him against the wall. I caught him off guard. I never catch him off guard.
I hold him there. “You're going to sit down, and we're going to talk about this like civilized guys. Do not make me fight you, Cavin.”
He growls at me. “Put me down.”
I growl right back. “Tell me you're not going to fight me again.”
“Promise you won't hit me again.”
“You fucking arsehole.”