Part IV
RYDER
CHAPTER ONE
Present day ...
Branna’s scream. That was the first sound I heard as I returned home from my son’s soccer games. The sound ripped through me like a shard of broken glass. I had my three youngest boys with me—Alfie who was thirteen, Creed who was ten, and Israel who was seven. The three of them jumped when they heard the scream, and before I made a conscious decision to run, my legs were pounding furiously up the driveway of my house. I flung the front door open, and Branna’s screaming was then paired with yelling from my two eldest sons, my fourteen-year-old twins, Nixon and Jules.
They had left the soccer clubhouse before me and the others because their game ended earlier, and they didn’t want to come along in the car while I dropped Alec’s kids home. I ran into the kitchen and found both of them tangled up on the floor as they fought. Branna was throwing cups of water on them like they were dogs in hopes of breaking them up as she simultaneously screamed for them to stop. I looked from my wife to my sons, and bellowed, “That’s enough!”
They stopped fighting almost instantly and shoved one another as they got to their feet. Jules had a bloody eyebrow, and Nixon’s lips was swollen into a knot and had already bruised. They were both soaking wet, but they didn’t seem to notice as they were glaring daggers at one another until their mother got their attention.
“Ye’ violent little bastard!” she shouted as she slapped them wildly. “How dare ye’ carry on like animals!”
My sons had their hands up and easily avoid their mother’s flailing hands, but it wasn’t her they were worried about; it was me. Their grey eyes locked on me as I approached them, and they tensed the moment I reached in their direction. They grunted when I fisted their T-shirts but didn’t struggle as I pulled them over to the kitchen table where I shoved them into the seats.
“You’re both grounded,” Branna continued behind me as she got the mop to clean up the water puddles on the floor. “You’re never crossin’ the front door again, and as for your phones, ye’ can kiss them goodbye!”
The twins said nothing, only continued to glare at each other so I whacked both of them across the back of the head.
“Da!” Jules hissed at the same time that Nixon said, “That hurt!”
“Good,” Branna quipped. “I hope it hurt because seein’ both of ye’ harm one another hurt me! You’re brothers. Twins. You’re supposed to protect each other, not fight one another!”
Jules looked his mom’s way and so did Nixon. I watched as both of their shoulders sagged as what they did registered with them. All my boys hated upsetting their mother, but none more than the twins. They adored her and seeing her so upset because of them made them feel like crap. I could tell by the solemn expression on their identical faces.
“I’m sorry, Ma,” Jules said at the same time Nixon said, “Sorry, Ma.”
They spoke in unison an awful lot, but we were all used to it at this stage in their lives.
“Sorry isn’t good enough!” Branna snapped as she stomped over to the table. “D’ye ever stop to think that ye’ could have seriously hurt one another? All it takes is one punch to a certain point on the head and ye’ could have died.”
Jules and Nixon looked at one another, and their anger began to recede as their mother’s words sunk in.
“I can’t even look at ye’s right now. I’m bloody sick of the pair of ye’. Ye’ act like babies!”
Branna stalked out of the room, shooing our three other sons away from the doorway where they were eavesdropping. They needed showers because they stuck to the high heavens, apart from Alfie because he didn’t go to his game, he spent the day in Alec’s house instead. Once Branna gave them their marching orders, they filed up the stairs, and my wife followed to run a bath for Israel who didn’t like taking showers on his own yet.
I stared down at my twins, and said, “Do either of you enjoying hurting your mother?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Jules scowled. “Ye’ know we don’t.”
“So what exactly did you think fighting in front of her was going to result in?”
“We didn’t know she was home,” Nixon answered. “We thought she was out, and by the time we realised she was home, we were already fightin’.”
“About that,” I said. “What made you guys beat the crap out of one another?”
“Because he,” Jules spat, “is not me brother.”
Nixon didn’t answer. Instead, he looked down at the table.
“He’s not your brother?” I repeated. “There’s another reason you’re identical twins then?”
Neither of my boys were amused.
“I don’t care if we’re twins, and that we look the exact same, he’s nothin’ to me. Nothin’.”
Nixon flinched, and I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t break a little.
“Care to expand on why you’re saying such hurtful things?”
“Ask him,” Jules answered, his tone clipped. “He’s the one who mucked everythin’ up.”
I looked at Nixon and waited.
He glared at his twin, and said, “It was an accident.”
“Bollocks,” Jules snapped. “How d’ye accidentally kiss me girlfriend, Nix?”
“Whoa.” I blinked. “You kissed his girlfriend, Nixon? Wait, you have a girlfriend, Jules?”
“Not anymore because she’s a cheatin’ bitch!”
“It was an accident,” Nixon repeated. “It wasn’t Avery’s fault.”
“Explain,” I said.
“Our game finished about twenty minutes before the others, so that’s why we walked home instead of waitin’ around with you and the others,” Nixon began. “I was waitin’ outside the clubhouse for Jules when his girlfriend, Avery, came runnin’ up to me. She jumped on me and kissed me before I knew what was happenin’. I lost all train of thought for literally three or four seconds and kissed ‘er back until I realised just who she was and what the hell was happenin’. I put ‘er down and told ‘er I wasn’t Jules, and ‘er face dropped. She thought I was ‘im, I could tell by the look on ‘er face. She has trouble tellin’ us apart still. She begged me not to tell Jules because it was an accident, but we don’t keep secrets from each other, so I told ‘im when we got home. He punched me in the face, so I hit ‘im back and then ye’ got home and stopped it.”
Jules stared at his brother, and said, “Why the hell didn’t ye’ start by sayin’ she thought ye’ were me?”
“I was startin’ from the start of what happened, but ye’ hit me before I could get to the part that is was a misunderstandin’.”
Jules shook his head. “Nixon, ye’ made it sound like both of ye’ mutually kissed.”
“Because ye’ swung at me before I could finish me sentence and say it was all an accident,” Nixon argued. “Ye’ always overreact.”
“So ye’ didn’t wanna kiss Avery?” Jules pressed.
“No, I didn’t wanna bloody kiss ‘er,” Nixon quipped. “She’s your girlfriend. I’ve no interest in ‘er like that, and even if I did, I’d never act on it because you are with ‘er. Ye’ say I’m not your brother, but I would never mess around with a girl you’re with. Never. I’m mad that ye’ would even hit me over a girl. Ye’ didn’t even give me a chance to explain it, Jules.”
Nixon, who was rightfully upset, got up and walked out of the kitchen, leaving his brother to stare after him. After a minute of silence, Jules looked at me, and said, “I messed up.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But you can fix it, go and apologise to him.”
“I said he was nothin’ to me, Da.” He swallowed. “Nixon loves that we’re twins, he always has. He loves me more than anyone, even Georgie ... well, maybe he loves me the same amount as ‘er. She’s everyone’s favourite.”