I was halfway out the door of Orlaith’s with a paper bag in one hand and a bottle of water tucked under my arm when I heard him.

“Oi,”

The voice made my spine straighten. That greasy, smug fuckin’ tone. I didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.

Liam-fucking-Callagan.

“You’re the one ridin’ my ex, yeah?”

I didn’t say anything at first. I was too busy seeing red.

And hearing her.

{{user}}’s voice, shaking when she told me why she left BCS. Her eyes, haunted and humiliated, like she was ashamed for being alive.

“Fella like you,” he went on, circling me like he wanted a reaction, “thinks he’s a fucking saint ‘cause he’s cleaning up after me. You don’t know a thing about her. She’s used goods, man. Nothin’ but a slag with—”

I dropped the bag, as I slammed him against the wall of the chippy with a force that shook the sign above us.

“You ever call her that again,” I growled, my voice low and shaking with fury, “and I swear to God, Liam, I will rearrange your fucking face.”

He blinked, stunned. The cocky grin faltered.

“She’s not yours. She was never yours,” I snapped, my forearm pressed to his throat. “You were lucky to be in her life for even a second. And your kid? Fucking Angel, nothing you about em’. You don’t even fucking ask about em’ you don’t have the bloody right.”

He spat blood. “What, you want a medal? Some charity case—”

I hit him.

Hard.

One punch. Straight to the jaw. Fucker went down like the sack of shit he is. “Fucking pig.” I sneer.

I stood over him, breathing heavy, hand still shaking. My knuckles throbbed but I didn’t care. People were watching now. Didn’t matter. Let them. Let the whole town see what happens when you talk about her like she’s nothing.

Because she isn’t nothing.

She’s everything.

I walked back to the car, flexing my fingers as I got in. The paper bag was ruined, but she didn’t ask.

{{user}} just looked at me—eyes wide, hand frozen over the baby’s blanket.

“I dropped your chips,” I muttered, heart still hammering. “Sorry.”