Page 4 of Dust to Dust

Pain seared through me, causing my chest to tighten. I hated that after all these months, she still managed to cut me.

“She’s got fucking cheek to show her face here,” Rian sneered.

“Someone should warn Colin off that conniving cunt,” Dare added.

Unable to bear being in the same room, least of all house as her, I shoved my whiskey glass into Callum’s chest. “I’m out of here.”

After he clasped the glass, he shook his head. “Sorry, mate.”

“If Da asks after me, tell him to go fuck himself,” I grunted.

Callum’s lips quirked up. “That would be my pleasure.”

As I started out of the room, someone fell in step beside me. When I glanced over, Rian grinned. “Thought you might need some company.”

“I’d rather be alone.”

Rian clapped a hand on my shoulder. “I’m well aware that you’d rather slink away to lick your wounds alone–”

“I’m not fucking slinking.”

He laughed. “Come on. Let me buy you a pint at the pub.”

Since we were kids, Rian and I had been close. Sometimes I felt closer to him than I did Callum or Dare. Whenever the two of them teamed up against me, Rian always had my back. I wasn’t surprised that tonight it was him trying to cheer me up.

“Fine,” I replied, as we made our way down the hallway to the back door.

Once we got outside, I sucked in a harsh breath of the cool night air. After power walking down the backstairs, our feet crunched on the gravel.

Jaysus, what a mess of anight.

At Rian’s playful nudge, I turned to look at him. “If it makes you feel any better, Colin’s got the smallest lad I’ve ever seen.”

A laugh burst from my lips. “Do I even want to ask how you know he’s got a tiny cock?”

Rian grinned back at me. “How quickly you forget we were the same age in school.” With a wrinkle of his nose, he replied, “I had to see the wee schlong in the showers after rugby practice.”

I snorted. “It must’ve been traumatizing for you to remember all these years later.”

“He tried hiding it. Especially when I was around since we both know how well-endowed the Kavanaugh men are.”

“Get on with ya,” I replied.

As we started for the garage, Rian skidded to a stop before a shiny sports car. After letting out a low whistle, he said, “Get a load of that Aston Martin.”

“It’s Da’s.”

A snort escaped his lips. “Since when would a dryshite like Uncle Hugh buy a car like that?”

I laughed. “He didn’t. It was a gift. They just delivered it this afternoon.”

“Ah, that makes more sense.” After sliding his hand down the shiny, red hood, he waggled his brows. “Where’s the key?”

I groaned. “Not bloody likely.”

“Why not?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Because I’m too fucking old to be stealing my Da’s car.”

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