Page 158 of Ruthless Savage

He clears his throat, and my father and Fernanda immediately stand from their chairs.

“There she is! The birthday girl!” He rushes to me and hugs me tight, kissing the top of my hand, his eyes searching my face for signs of my broken heart.

He sighs and gives me one last kiss before Fernanda comes to embrace me affectionately.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Her brows tug, and she pats me dolefully on the shoulder before walking away.

I hate this. I truly hate it.

Fionn comes up to us next, with my other two brothers trailing behind.

Iseult, though? She remains seated beside Gio, her eyes holding mine.

“Before you know it, you’ll be as old as me,” Fionn teases.

He’s only thirty-one. Not old at all.

“Or better yet, like this one.” He slaps a palm across Tynan’s back, who’s seven years older.

Tynan’s not amused, giving him a stern look, but when he looks at me, his eyes grow softer.

That was always the thing with Tynan. He was the one most people feared, but I knew my brother. He was hard on the outside, too hard, but he had to be, growing up the way he did: the oldest, the one who would one day take over for my father. But he was a good big brother. He looked out for me growing up. Read to me when I’d wake up in the middle of the night with a nightmare.

“Want a drink?” He leads me to the bar, and I pass Gio and Iseult, both looking up at me.

I can tell from her face she wants to say something, probably something I don’t wanna hear.

But instead, she says, “Happy birthday, sis.”

“Thanks.”

Tynan reaches for a glass and pours me some white wine.

“I’m not supposed to drink.” My grin grows.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” His lips play as he hands me the liquor.

I take it to my mouth, the murmur of a burn gliding down my throat.

“So, how’s married life?” he asks, tossing back a whiskey neat.

“Good. I guess.” My eyes wander around the room, catching sight of eight-year-old Brody.

He sits beside Sophia as she chats him up, showing him something on her tablet. But the boy with the golden-brown hair and green eyes remains silent. Because silence is all he knows now. After all the trauma of losing his father, then his mom to suicide not even a week later, he stopped speaking, and no one can get him to talk again.

Tears bathe my eyes just imagining what he went through. I wouldn’t want to talk to anyone either.

But our fear is that this is now permanent. The doctors tell Tynan that he needs time and more counseling, but that hasn’t helped.

“How’s he doing?” I ask Tynan, glancing between him and Brody.

He blows an exhausted breath, running a hand down his face. “Not well. He still wakes up from nightmares and jumps into my bed, shaking and crying until I can get him back to sleep.”

I blink past my emotions. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s him I’m sorry for. Everything he went through…it’s not right. And for what? Fuck, Eriu. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a father.”

“Hey.” My face falls, and I place a hand on his shoulder, looking squarely at him. “You’re amazing with him. You give him stability, love, acceptance. You don’t push him. You let him be. That’s what he needs.”

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