Meet The McIntyres - The Complete Series

by Rebecca Barber

  Doing one final lap of the overgrown yard, I finished my coffee and tossed the empty paper cup into the skip bin on the front lawn before unlocking the door and heading inside. Surveying the damage, I contemplated my next step. When I tripped over a pair of runners in the lounge room, a pair that didn’t look like they’d even been worn, let alone run a hundred metres, I cursed. It became obvious what the next move was. And that was moving Shane out of my construction site.

  After shooting off a quick text to him, I began helping the process along. One of the spare bedrooms wouldn’t need any major work. A coat of paint to refresh the walls and hide the hideous pink colour, an updated light fixture, and some new flooring, and it would be good to go. It would do as storage for now…some of the shit I didn’t even bother with. The battered old couch that wasn’t making the transition from bachelorhood to married life. Even if Shane wanted it, I doubt it would be allowed in the man cave, if he was allowed to have a man cave.

  By the time Shane arrived, my shirt clung to my back with sweat. It was hard work doing it all myself. I know I could’ve waited. Waited for Shane to help, or tomorrow, when I had a full crew at my disposal, but now I’d seen the end product, even if it was just in my head, I wanted it done. Besides, I’d only bashed my shin once, leaving a bright red trail of blood down my leg, and jarred my shoulder. Stupid football injury I’d never get over.

  “Holy shit! Someone’s been busy,” Shane stated the obvious as he strutted through the door in his perfectly pressed khaki pants and navy button down shirt. He looked like he was going to a farmer’s market or brunch rather than lugging boxes.

  “What the fuck are you wearing?”

  “What I’m told to.”

  “Seriously?”

  “It’s easier. When Selena’s in one of her moods, I just go with it. I got a change of clothes in the car.”

  “Sneaky.” I accepted the cup he offered me and inhaled the caffeine. At least he brought sustenance. “What’d you do to piss her off, anyway?”

  “What makes you think I did something?”

  “It’s always your fault. Rule one of marriage. Even I know that and I’m gay.”

  “What the fuck does you being gay have anything to do with it?”

  “Everything. I don’t even like women, well, not like that anyway, and I know you don’t piss them off, and if for some reason they are pissed off, it’s almost always your fault.”

  “Well, asshole, this one isn’t. It’s shark week and no one wants to be around that shit! Even James was smart enough to stay with his grandparents for a couple of days.”

  “Shark week?”

  “Yeah you know…that time of the month.”

  I couldn’t help but to burst out with maniacal laughter. My big brother was scared of his fiancée with her period. Even talking about it made him blush, and I don’t think I’d ever seen Shane blush. Digging my phone from my pocket, I snapped a picture. This shit was gold. Too good of an opportunity to pass up.

  “Yeah, laugh it up, dick weed. One day you’ll fall, and then I’ll be the one laughing.”

  “Not fucking likely.”

  With our daily teasing quota fulfilled, I showed him around and explained my plans. It took a while for Shane to see what I was envisaging, but when he did, he asked to buy the place back. Thankfully, I knew he was kidding, but it made my chest puff out that he’d even suggested it. It meant I was doing something right. And praise coming from Shane, there was nothing better in my world.

  It only took a couple of hours and the rest of the house was almost empty. The excess furniture, the pieces he wasn’t yet ready to let go of, were piled up in the shed until he grew the balls to ask Selena if he could bring them home. All signs of Shane’s bachelor lifestyle were gone, including the porn stash I’d stumbled on in the back of the linen press. Damn, that shit had seedy titles.

  When I finally slammed the door shut on his bursting car and waved him away, it was already well after lunch. Back inside, I wandered through the now empty, sad shell of a house. The more I looked at it, the more I thought about it, the more I realised that this was my new home. It was where I felt safe. Happy even. All I had to do was fix it up and make it mine. With my stomach rumbling, I headed out to find some food. The local hardware store always had a sausage sizzle happening. I could grab a couple of sandwiches and some supplies, then throw myself into this completely. Before I’d been messing around. Now, all bets were off. Before I headed home tonight, I planned on having the wall dividing the lounge and dining room gone and the ensuite bathroom half demolished.

  I was an idiot.

  There was no doubt about it. When I finally put down the broom and looked at the pile of debris at my feet, I almost collapsed. I hadn’t stopped since the moment I started swinging the hammer. I hadn’t even paused to take a water break, something I was constantly bitching at my team about doing. Dehydration was a real issue with real consequences. The problem was, I’d gotten on a roll and hadn’t wanted to come up for air, let alone food or water. Now, with sweat dribbling down my face and my shirt clinging to me, my head was throbbing. After a short coughing fit, probably caused by all the dust in the air, I slumped down in the hallway. I’d made a shit load of progress today. I was proud of myself. Sure, I could bring in help and get it done faster without taking such a beating for it, but there was some kind of satisfaction doing it myself.

  Yanking my shirt over my head, I used it to wipe my face. My stomach grumbled loudly and my throat was dry. I was done for the day. A shower, food, and sleep were calling me. Tomorrow was another day. One I wasn’t looking forward to. Yet another weekend had flown past and I hadn’t even paused to relax and recharge. That’s what weekends were for, and I’d been so busy I hadn’t stopped. It was going to be one long ass week coming my way and I had to at least try and be ready for it.

  Snagging my keys and wallet from the counter, I locked up and headed home. I barely remembered the drive. The whole way home my mind was whirling with colour ideas, budgets, and an intimidating to-do list.

  Too tired to bother with the stairs, I stepped into the elevator and slumped against the wall. I must’ve looked like shit. My smelly t-shirt was tucked into my waistband. My pants were caked with dirt and blood. My hair was slicked back with sweat. Thank god no one saw me. I looked like I felt. Completely and utterly fucked.

  The elevator pinged and I peeled myself off the wall. Even the fifteen steps to my door seemed like too many. With heavy feet, I trudged around the corner. What I saw, slumped against my door, made all my problems, all the exhaustion seem like nothing at all.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ryan

  Everything hurt.

  No, it was worse than hurt.

  I felt like I was drowning. Struggling for air. Like I could see the surface, like I could see my brothers standing there, staring down at me, but I couldn’t reach them. And they weren’t trying to help me.

  After my chat with Payton, the one where she’d basically spent an hour apologising for my father, I’d convinced her I was okay and just needed a walk. I waited until she disappeared back towards the house, the house I was no longer welcome in if I listened to anything Dad said, before heading off in the opposite direction.

  I walked for ages. Our property was big, not the biggest around, but big enough someone could quite easily get lost on it and with every step, I felt more. I felt everything. Relief that I didn’t have to pretend anymore. Grateful they’d accepted me and seemingly loved me anyway. Confused by Connor’s caveman antics when it came to Zoe. Worried about Zoe. That girl was not in a good way, and once I got my head together, we were going to have to talk about what was going on with her. Sadly though, that would have to wait. As much as I wanted to be her knight in shining armour, right now I wouldn’t do her any good. I wouldn’t do anyone any good. I needed to figure out my own shit first, then I could focus on her. As much as I was thinking and analysing everything, I couldn’t stop my thoughts from returning
to Dad. The things he’d said. The way he’d looked at me. Or hadn’t looked at me. I doubted I’d ever get past it. I might forgive him one day, but I’d never forget.

  When the sun vanished and the night turned cool, I turned and headed back. I didn’t know where I was supposed to sleep tonight. Going back inside that house, the one I’d grown up in, didn’t feel right. For the first time in my life, it didn’t feel like home. Not being welcome had ruined it for me. Each step I took got heavier. The weight of my secret being out, the one I’d carried around for years was back, and heavier than ever.

  For some reason I found myself grabbing my phone and dialling the one person I hadn’t spoken to in months. My mum. When it went to voicemail, I found myself tearing up. I just needed my Mum.

  Before I’d even had a chance to put my phone away, it lit up. She was calling me back. I sighed loudly before accepting the call and pressing the phone to my ear.

  “Hi Mum.”

  “Hi sweetie. How are you?”

  That’s all it took for me to shatter into a million pieces. It was no secret she’d been a shitty mother, especially the last couple of years. When her marriage to Dad fell apart, she became bitter and miserable and took it out on whoever was closest. Most of the time, Holly wore the brunt of her ugliness, and for that reason alone she’d been isolated from everyone. She’d cheated and tried to take half the farm from Dad in the divorce, so when it was revealed that Dad didn’t actually inherit the farm from Pop, Beau did, everything flew out of control in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t until she lost everything, ruined Christmas, and called Payton a gold digger, that Gage had stepped in and helped her get away to sort herself out. Since she’d left, I’d spoken to her barely a handful of times. It wasn’t that I didn’t love her anymore—she was my mother, the only one I had, I’d love her regardless—it was more that I had nothing to say to her. I was too afraid that anything I did say would just make everything worse. Well, I guess I was about to test the theory.

  “I’m gay, Mum.” Might as well get it out there and over with. I found myself dropping to the dirt and clutching my knees to my chest. I was glad I was alone right now. I must’ve looked like a pathetic child curled in a ball on the ground, all his hopes hanging on his mummy still loving him.

  “Sweetheart,” she began. I couldn’t tell if it was pity, disgust, or patronisation that twisted her words. “I know, Ryan. I know.”

  What the fuck? That wasn’t what she was supposed to say.

  “But how…when…why…” I had so many questions. Questions I needed answers to but I was afraid of what they’d be.

  “Ryan, you’re my son, and I love you, but I think I’ve always known. It was only you who needed to figure it out.”

  A feather could’ve knocked me over. I was too stunned to reply.

  “And it didn’t matter. I loved you because you were a sweet, smart, loyal boy who grew into a kind, caring, and compassionate man. Who you choose to love, that doesn’t matter to me. As long as they’re good to you and you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

  Holy. Fuck.

  I was not expecting this.

  Mum had said everything I was desperately craving. Even if I didn’t know it. The moment I heard them, tears streaked down my cheeks while my hands trembled. Sniffing, I barely murmured out a thank you.

  “Do you want me to come, Ryan?”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Always.”

  This wasn’t the same woman who for the last couple of months had terrorised our family. This was the mum I wanted. The mum I needed. Part of me wanted to accept her offer. Just having her arms wrapped around me, loving me, accepting me, would make a world of difference, but I couldn’t ask her to do that. I needed to face this first. She could pick up the pieces soon.

  “Thanks. Maybe when I get back to Melbourne you could come visit for a couple of days?” I tossed out hopefully.

  Without missing a beat, she said, “You tell me when you want me and I’ll be there.”

  “Thank you. And thanks for, you know, not hating me for…”

  “I could never hate you for being you, Ryan. It’s not possible.”

  “Yeah, it is,” I snorted, not meaning for her to hear it.

  “Let me guess, your father acted like an ass, didn’t he?” I didn’t answer, and that must have told her everything she needed to know. “Give him time. Even though we’ve suspected for years, having it confirmed, that would’ve surprised him.”

  “I’m still his son, though!” I protested angrily, my blood starting to boil again.

  “And he knows that. He’ll come around.”

  “Yeah, well, I might not be here when he does.”

  “Ryan…I know you’re probably hurting right now, and you have every right to be upset, but try not to make rash decisions. You know what he’s like. He’s stubborn,, and he’s overbearing and he’s an…”

  “Ass?”

  Mum chuckled. “Yeah, that too. But he’s your dad. And he loves you.”

  “Well, he has a funny way of showing it.”

  “That can’t surprise you, surely?”

  “Surprise, no. Disappoint, absolutely.”

  “Hang in there, sweetheart. Get some sleep. But you call me if you need me. And I will see you soon.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. I love you, Ryan.”

  “Love you too, Mum.”

  I hung up feeling even worse than before. I was grateful Mum hadn’t told me I was a monster and I was no longer her son, but at the same time I was beyond exhausted. Although I’d done nothing at all today, not physically anyway, emotionally today had been a tornado. Trudging up the hill, I spotted Carly’s cottage with the lights on. Maybe she’d let me crash on her couch for a couple of hours. The thought of going to the main house made me want to vomit. I needed a couple of pain killers for this aching shoulder and to crash for the night.

  Pinning all my hopes on someone who, sooner or later, would be my sister-in-law, I headed towards the light. Although it was barely two hundred metres in front of me, it felt like two hundred miles. Every heavy step I took drained me. My feet felt like they were encased in concrete. I was barely halfway there when the sky above opened up and the rain pelted down. It hit my skin like bullets, and when it turned into pea-sized hail stones, I was forced to hold my good arm over my head and make a run for it.

  By the time I stepped under the awning on Carly’s porch, I was soaked and shivering. I’d been pelted, and the icy rain had stung my face. Kicking off my soaked shoes, I nursed my sore arm and looked across the paddock, thanking my lucky stars I’d been so close to shelter. This storm, wherever it’d come from, was violent and getting more so with each passing minute. The trees whipped about in the wind. The sky lit up with bright lightning bolts and the thunder echoed in the distance.

  Shaking the excess water out of my too long hair, I stepped up onto the mat and knocked. I didn’t want to be rude, but being polite wouldn’t be heard over the racket of the storm.

  When no one answered, I called out, “Carly? It’s Ryan. Are you home?” Still nothing. If it’d been Gage’s place or even Connor’s, I would’ve just walked in and helped myself to a beer and a shower, but I wouldn’t do that to Carly. I didn’t want to scare her. Instead, I found my phone, hoping it still had service. Around here, there was always a fifty-fifty chance whether you’d pick up a signal or not.

  At least one thing was going right for me tonight.

  Ryan: Do you know where Carly is?

  Gage responded instantly. Almost like he was sitting there with his finger on the trigger, waiting.

  Gage: Why the fuck do you wanna know?

  Ryan: Calm your tits.

  Ryan: I’m standing on her veranda. Got caught in the storm.

  Gage: You okay?

  Ryan: Cold. Wet. Need a beer.

  Gage: Carly’s with me tonight. Go in. Beer’s yours.

  Ryan: Thanks.

  Gage: You sleeping th
ere?

  Ryan: Is that okay? I can just crash on the couch.

  While I waited for Gage’s reply, I stepped inside. It was nothing like last time I’d been there. Photos lined every spare inch of wall space. I knew Carly was a photographer, and a bloody good one at that, but I thought she was a wedding photographer. That’s why she spent all her time travelling around the country taking happy snaps of Bridezillas doing their best to look prim and proper. But these weren’t those kinds of photos. These were something more. There were stunning landscapes. Intimate, classy portraits, and pictures of strangers she’d snapped when they weren’t looking.

  Leaving a wet trail across her wooden floors, I headed straight for the bathroom. I wanted out of these heavy, wet clothes. Grabbing a beer from the pathetically stocked fridge, I mean, I doubt even the world’s most creative chefs could do anything with the abysmal contents of her fridge, I stripped off and stepped under the scalding water. With the warm water biting my skin, I tried to move my shoulder, slowly groaning loudly. Between the pain from the break, and now the icy cold that’d seeped into my bones, I was in agony. I just hoped somewhere here, Carly had a stock of pain killers that’d knock me out for a couple of hours.

  Once I got out of the shower, I wrapped a bright orange towel around my waist. While I knew I couldn’t have worn my own clothes any longer, I hadn’t given any thought to what I’d put on after. Quickly, I rifled through the cabinets and found the goods. Not only did Carly have drugs that would ease my pain, she had the good ones that would knock me into next week and forget all my problems. Popping three from the packet, I washed them down with what was left of my beer. Drying off the best I could, I’d managed to forget how hard everything was with just one hand. I headed back to the lounge to check my phone.