Fighting Redemption(19)

“Don’t bullshit me, Fin!” he shouted.

“Please don’t be angry,” she pleaded softly. “Nothing happened.”

Ian stared at the floor for a moment, one hand on his hip, the other wrapped around the back of his neck. “I’ve seen how he looks at you—right from the beginning. And the worst part is that I’ve seen how you look at him. God. That first time between us, I’ve never felt more in love in all my life, but all this time it’s been him for you, hasn’t it?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Fuck sorry!” Ian yelled, his fists clenching angrily. He grabbed a glass off the kitchen counter and smashed it against the cupboards behind her. She flinched as the fragments splintered across the kitchen tiles. “Tell me you love me,” he choked out.

Tears spilled over and ran down her face. “I love you.”

He stood there, chest heaving. “I don’t believe you.”

The back door flew open and Ryan came charging in. His eyes were on Ian, and they were so dark and cold, she shivered.





Ryan looked up when Rachael and Laura walked back to their seats having left Ian and Fin alone. When Ian’s raised voice was heard, the table fell silent and all eyes went to the window.

Ryan stood suddenly, his chair skating backwards, his body tense.

When Ian threw a glass and it shattered against the cupboards behind Fin, red was a bright, burning haze that obliterated everything around him.

“Fuck,” Jake muttered beside him, but Ryan was already running for the door. He slid it open, fists clenched, and stormed inside.

Ian turned, nostrils flaring. “You.”

But Ryan didn’t stop. He came fast at Ian and cocking back his fist, slammed it with a satisfying crack into Ian’s jaw.

He vaguely heard someone shouting at him, but he tuned it out. Instead, he took a step forward as Ian staggered backwards. Then, head down, Ian charged, knocking Ryan off his feet. They both went down, Ryan landing hard on the small timber table beside the couch and cracking his head. The table splintered beneath him, sending him to the floor with a thud. When Ian landed above him, they rolled until Ryan had him pinned on the ground. Grabbing the neckline of Ian’s shirt, he pulled back his fist and slammed it in Ian’s face. His knuckles burned from the contact as Ian’s head snapped back. Ryan pulled his fist back, ready to do it again, but Ian reached up and grabbed him in a headlock. He grabbed at Ian’s shoulders, ready to flip him over, but arms locked around his waist and yanked him backwards.

“Enough!” Mike yelled.

Ryan shrugged off Mike’s hold, his chest heaving as he nailed Ian with a savage glare.

“Fuck that,” Jake growled, and moving swiftly, grabbed Ian and hauled him to his feet, ready to throw his own punch.

“Jake!” Mike shouted. “Both of you.”

Ryan’s shirt had ridden up in the tussle, and he tugged it down before looking at Fin. She was standing next to Rachael, her face pale, her hand to her mouth.

“Fin,” he murmured.

Ian wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and pointed at Ryan. “You stay the hell away from, Fin.”

“What the f*ck is going on here?” Mike growled.

Ian looked at Mike. “Maybe you should be asking Ryan that, Mike.”

Mike looked between Ian and Ryan and shook his head. “Ian, I think it’s probably best for now if you left.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed on Ian when he looked at Fin.

He nodded at Mike. “Okay.”

Without sparing a glance at Fin, Ian turned and strode out the door, shutting it behind him with a soft click.





The drive home with Jake and Ryan was silent and tense. Jake’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his lips a tight line. Fin wasn’t sure how many beers Ryan had drunk because his head was tilted back in his seat, his eyes closed as Jake drove through the dark streets.

Fin sat in the back, staring out the window. Trying to turn her crappy day around hadn’t gone as planned. How the hell had a simple welcome home dinner spiralled into such disaster?

After an eternity of strained silence, Jake pulled into the driveway of the cottage. Fin fumbled for the door handle in her haste to leave the car. Keys already in hand, she unlocked the front door, went straight for her room, and shut the door behind her. Once inside, she moaned a sigh of relief.

Using the mirror on the back of her wardrobe door, she plucked out some wipes and took her make up off. Within minutes she was changed into a tank top and panties and sliding her way into bed. Her phone buzzed a message from a Rachael. What happened with you and Ian? Did you break up?

I don’t know, she replied. He was pretty mad.

Her phone buzzed again. No shit. He threw a glass at you, Fin. I’m glad Ryan punched him.

Fin sighed as she tapped out a response. Is that what everyone thinks? He threw it at the cupboard, not at me.

I think you should break up with him, came Rachael’s response.

Should she? She always told herself she valued her independence and her work. Did she value Ian more? She wasn’t sure. Maybe if she made more of an effort this wouldn’t have happened.

Flipping onto her stomach, Fin pushed up on her elbows and tapped out a reply. He’s not to blame. I’m the one that keeps pushing him away.