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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?”
