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“Fuck,” I muttered.
“He never said it again after I showed him my fists.” He gingerly touched his cheek. “You got one in before I clocked you.”
“Felt good, not gonna lie.” I winced, flexing my busted knuckles. I pressed the wet towel over my wound. It hurt like hell.
Ryan huffed. “Been a long while since anyone has tried that shit around me. But that bloody calendar photo went viral tonight and the comments started again. Some of the lads at the party were mouthing off.”
That photo of her with her helmet, firefighter’s jacket and beauty pageant sash: defiance and strength. Stacey was flipping the bird to every arsehole she’d ever dealt with.
I looked at him directly. “You can’t keep her hidden from the world. She doesn’t want to be.”
“All I ever wanted to do was protect my sisters from arseholes in this world. Tom took care of any arseholes he encountered by himself. Never needed his big brother to defend him or anything. But can you imagine being nineteen years old with three younger sisters, and you’ve just had a daughter? Lily was at boarding school when she became a Grammy award-winning country and western singer. A minor. The internet always had creeps commenting how much they would like to …” He coughed, as if it pained him to say the next words. “You get the picture. And, Christ, I don’t even want to speculate what she got up to away from home.”
Ryan’s face was stricken. “Then Amanda went to uni in Sydney as soon as she finished high school. That’s ten hours’ drive away from her family. She then worked there for a couple of years after she graduated from uni before moving to the other side of the globe, as far away as you can get from here. You can’t keep the arseholes away by Skype.”
Ryan threw his hands up in the air, shaking his head.
“There were several times after the fire when I’d thought Mum was fading way. And then Stacey would have yet another operation and I’d thought Stace was fading away from us, too. Grief was more than a feeling. It was like a presence in our home, like another family member had moved in that none of us wanted.”
My throat closed up. Guilt pulsed in my gut. I’d missed the signs of depression and suicide with Simon. He had hidden his battles so well. Too well. But I should have seen something. Done something. But in the end it was too late. I could only imagine what Ryan had felt watching the women in his family deal with the black dog.
“The last words my father said to me before I jumped out the window were ‘keep her safe’.” Ryan’s voice was barely a whisper. “So I’ve just done everything I could since the fire to keep Stace safe. All I know is protecting her.”
I recalled the countless times I’d pulled the bullies off Liam in the parks, sometimes the shopping centre, and used my fists when words had been useless to make them stop their taunts. He and I were more similar than I’d realised.
“She’s strong, you know.”
“Course I know,” Ryan scoffed.
“I want to be the one to look after her,” I blurted. “If she wants me to.”
Ryan’s eyebrows shot up.
I glanced away and flexed my hand.
“How’s your knuckle?” he asked.
“Hurts like a bitch,” I admitted.
“That a proper medical term?”
“Yep,” I quipped.
Ryan snorted. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re an arsehole.”
I suspected this was the highest form of praise from the grumpiest resident of Ballydoon.
“And for what it’s worth, I get why you’re overprotective. And thank you, I think.”
“Don’t expect me to braid your hair or kiss and make up now,” Ryan grumbled.
I barked a laugh. “Holy shit, did you make a joke?”
His mouth twitched before returning to his regular frown. “What happens with you and Stacey now?”
“I’d planned on talking to her tonight about us but I didn’t even get a chance.”
My stupid libido got in the way of my brain tonight.
