53. Ciaran

53

CIARAN

B efore I even knew what had hit me, Matty shoved me backwards. I landed back on the couch with an unceremonious plop.

Matty vaulted over the coffee table, grabbed Drew by the shoulders, and together they toppled over the other couch.

They were a tangle of arms, fists, slaps, elbows, and limbs as they fell to the wood floor in a heavy thud.

A staccato chorus of "fuck-you" and "no-fuck-you" came out in growly grunts and half utterances between the two of them.

I scrambled to my feet and darted to the other side of the couch. All I could do was watch, which made me feel embarrassingly useless…like maybe I was the damsel in distress in this scenario.

Drew was taller and stronger, but those physical attributes could not equal the rage I'd witnessed in Matty's eyes just before he lunged at the man.

As they rolled together on the floor, Matty landed on top of Drew, straddling his chest and pinning him down with his knees. Drew kicked and tried to buck Matty off him.

Fists were flying into flesh and bone as furniture skidded sideways. The empty wine bottle skittered to the floor, as did the three wine glasses, which shattered into a thousand pieces. The smell of expensive red wine filled the room, mixing with the pungent scent of two sweaty men fighting.

As much as I'd like to get in a solid punch to Drew's face, I knew better than to intervene. These two had years of pent-up hatred and anger toward one another. I'd just get in the way.

"I'm going to kill you for stealing him from me," I heard Drew say.

"Ciaran was never yours, asshole," was Matty's strained reply after Drew's fist collided with his jaw. I saw a trickle of blood stain the side of his lip. "He can make his own choices without either of us interfering."

"So you're saying it's you or me?" Drew sputtered. His nose was bloody, which he wiped away on the back of his hand. "Winner takes all? Either I maim you tonight or your friends at the embassy put a bullet between your eyes. Sounds like I win, no matter what."

"I swear to God," I started, "I am going to stab both of you with shards of broken glass."

Both men laughed at that as their tackling positions shifted. Drew was now on top, a dark gleam in his eyes. Drew's laugh was harsh while Matty's bark of laughter was full of humor before he wriggled to knee Drew in the groin.

"Switching the statue was a dick move, Andy. I don't care if you hate my guts, but your actions have an effect on Joan and Filipe."

Drew doubled over and wheezed as he uttered a noise that was a cross between a groan and a chortle.

His voice was whisper-thin when he quipped, "Like I give a shit about your friends. It was easy to beat you at your own game, Matty." He groaned again. "Reminded me of our dares back in the day. You were always such an easy mark."

Matty cursed. "Stealing a neighbor's watch isn't the same thing as duping a foreign embassy. They have semi-automatic weapons, Andy."

"Sucks to be you."

Someone kicked the couch. The statue, which Drew had left there, rocked forward with enough momentum that it would take another kick or two for it to fall completely to the floor.

Wait! The statue was unattended. I couldn't believe it took me that long to realize that fact.

At least I now had a purpose.

I avoided the broken glass as I hefted the statue in my arms. Jesus it was heavier than before. But then I remembered what I'd held before was a replica .

This statue was at least fifteen pounds heavier.

I walked well out of the way of the wrestling idiots and placed the statue in a corner near the front door. I didn't think the second couch on the other side of the coffee table was a safe enough place, especially if they stood up and started fighting on that side of the room.

When I returned to the living room, they were standing upright, each punching then ducking, attempting to avoid the furniture. It was a messy, dirty fight. Matty's jaw was red, his lip was split in the corner, and it looked as if he had a cut in his hairline. As they shuffled, their feet crunched over the broken glass, which made a jangle of crackling, snapping sounds.

" Fuck ," Drew screamed all of a sudden, like a murder victim. Instantly, he stopped what he was doing to look at his bare feet like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Sparkling shards of broken glass were embedded in the fleshy part of his feet.

The blooming metallic scent of blood mingled with fragrant red wine.

Matty used that momentum to gain the upper hand, and I knew then that the fight was over.

Matty spun around. Within the blink of an eye, Matty instantly positioned himself behind Drew, the crook of his arm wrenched around Drew's neck, squeezing tight in a vice grip.

"If you ever come near Ciaran again," Matty whispered in Drew's ear, "I won't be as forgiving as I am now."

Drew slapped at Matty's arm in an attempt to loosen his hold. When that didn't work, Drew dug his nails into Matty's exposed arm. Red lines formed on Matty's skin after each drag of Drew's fingernails.

Drew's face was turning purple and chirp-like grunts sputtered from his swollen lips. One eye was puffy and I could see bruises forming on his forehead.

In the melee, broken glass skated across the floor. Drew, who was trying to gain some purchase with his cut-up feet, was kicking frantically. Smears of bright blood and murky spilled wine covered the floor beneath Drew's feet.

It was shocking they hadn't slipped in it.

I marched up to Matty. "Let him go, Matty," I ordered.

Teeth clenching, he gritted out, "Not yet."

"You're choking him and his feet are bloody from the broken glass." Drew's eyes were bulging from his head and he was making mewing noises. He'd stopped clawing at his neck, and his lips were covered with drool, which meant he was seconds away from blacking out. "You won, Matty."

Comprehension bloomed in Matty's eyes. He was so focused, he must not have known about Drew's bloody feet.

Nodding, Matty yanked his arm away. A heartbeat later, he shoved Drew onto the couch.

Drew crumpled onto the gray cushions and promptly started coughing while simultaneously sucking in air. Red droplets from Drew's broken nose fell to the dove-gray fabric, staining it a brackish brown color.

"I guess I went a little feral there," Matty said to me in a low tone. His hair was slick with sweat and he was breathing almost as deeply as Drew was. "Sorry about that, Ciaran."

"You have nothing to apologize for," I said, meaning it. "I love that you defended me. If you hadn't intervened when you did, Drew was seconds away from sucker punching me."

Matty smiled, but winced when it cracked his split lip.

He rubbed my arm. "Where's the statue?" Matty asked. I pointed toward the door. "Good. We'll retrieve it on our way out."

Matty and I stood on the other side of the couch as we watched Drew recover. I studied his bloody feet. From this angle, I couldn't tell just how bad the injury was, but suspected he'd need stitches.

"You okay?" I asked Matty. Now that I was up close, I evaluated his face. His jaw would hurt for days, but the cut at his hairline had already stopped bleeding. The corner of his lip was bright red. He showed me his inner cheek, which had a gash in it where a tooth cut into it after Drew punched him. "Ouch," I said. "I'll kiss it later to make it feel better."

Matty's entire face lit up and I couldn't help but smile at how charmingly boyish he looked in that moment.

From the couch, Drew started laughing. Or rather, he laughed as best he could. It came out strangled. His neck was a ruddy red color. He'd have marks for days.

"You're a fucking idiot, Ciaran," he gasped out hoarsely. "Matty's never had a single successful relationship in his life. Just a long string of hookups." His bloodshot eyes found mine. "He's selfish, he uses people, and he'll throw you out with Thursday's trash." Drew coughed again. " I wouldn't have treated you that way."

"At least Matty's real ," I said. "He doesn't manipulate me or control me. I prefer being with someone who lets me see who they are on the inside, and not a fake person trying to be someone else."

Beside me, Matty cleared his throat. "Andy's not wrong, Ciaran. I am a fuckup, through and through. But my dad told me something when he met your mom. He said love knocked him on his ass, that Theresa became more important to him than the air in his lungs. He said that when I found someone who touched my soul, that I'd happily hand over the knife to cut out my own heart just so they could own a piece of me." Matty looked at me. "I'm starting to understand what he meant." Thrilling heat flared in my belly, but now, standing in Drew's ruined apartment, was not the time to analyze Matty's poetic words. To Drew, he said, "Ciaran makes me want to be a better person. Maybe one day you'll find the same thing, but you have to be open to change. Suspect you'd need a brain transplant for that to happen."

Drew merely raised an eyebrow before grumbling as he leaned forward to inspect the bottom of his foot. He yanked off his T-shirt, ripped off a strip from the bottom, and wrapped it snuggly around his foot.

Once upon a time I would have killed to see Drew's bare chest. Tonight, now that we had the statue in our possession, and I finally understood the depth of Drew's machinations, I felt nothing but sadness for the bruised man sitting before us.

His hold over me was broken. It was like I'd ripped off his mask to receive the closure I needed.

There was still one question we'd yet to get an answer for: Why Drew wanted us both here. Together.

"Drew," I said, and his glimmering green eyes locked on mine. "You made great strides to get us here together. Why?"

His shoulders slumped. The fight seemed to go out of him. "I saw the photo of you two online."

"Of us shopping together?"

Drew let out a hoarse laugh. "No. The two of you sitting out on surfboards, kissing." He rubbed at his throat. "It was a grainy photo, but I knew it was you who Matty was kissing."

This was news to me. I looked to Matty for an explanation.

"Ah," Matty started, his face flaming red. "I forgot to mention that the paparazzi captured the moment we kissed out on the water. Wait," he said, his attention shifting. "Andy, that's what set you off? A paparazzi photo of all things? You know that shit's rarely accurate. I mean, in this case, it was accurate, but still. That was a petty reaction, even for you."

Drew's jealousy caused all of this?

"It wasn't too much work," Drew said, "to make an anonymous call to the embassy letting them know the statue was a fake. Their reaction to the news gave me the biggest hard on since Ciaran almost let me fuck him a few weeks ago."

I cringed. I didn't want that memory flooding my brain. However, he didn't say that statement to rile me up. Drew knew Matty, who was still amped up, would not take that statement lying down.

Matty lunged forward again. From the corner of my eye, I saw that Drew was gripping the broken stem of one of the wine glasses.

He was essentially holding a glass shank, which could kill Matty.

Everything moved in slow motion and my vision instantly turned red.

I was closer to Drew and I knew what I had to do.

I didn't consciously remember moving, but one second I was next to the couch and the next I was punching Drew as hard as I could in the temple.

My knuckles stung like a son of a bitch but the asshole went down and stayed down. His eyes fluttered open, dazed, and a small, bubbly groan erupted from his lips.

Matty kicked the shank from Drew's hands. The glass skittered away on the wood floor, making clinking noises along the way, landing near the bookcase. Thank God we weren't near Drew's old book collection. I got faint thinking about blood splatter staining the spines of three-hundred-year-old books.

We stood there in unhurried silence. In the distance, I could hear the hum of Drew's refrigerator and the ticking of a clock on the mantle. It was close to two in the morning.

I think we were waiting to see if anything else happened, waiting to see if he jumped back up like an unkillable monster in a horror movie.

But this wasn't a movie. Drew couldn't jump up even if his life depended on it. Instead, he grumbled, rolled over, and spit up blood. "Fuck," he groaned to no one in particular.

"Ready to go?" Matty asked me as he approached the door. He grabbed one of Drew's coats from the hallway closet to wrap up the statue.

"Yes." Rubbing my sore knuckles, I looked down at Drew. I was ready. Ready to say goodbye. Ready to put this chapter of my life behind me. "This is where we part, Drew. Forever. I'll be requesting a new counselor for school, too. It's completely over between us. If you fail to keep your distance, I will call the authorities to press charges. Do you understand?"

Drew grunted out, "Get the fuck outta here, kid," which was satisfactory enough for me.

I didn't look back as we left Drew's apartment.