“I will keep my head,” I grumbled. “I mean it,” he shot back. “No talking shit about her brother.” “I don’t do that,” I snapped, flustered. “But I swear to god, lad, if I have to look at her with one more bruise, I’m the one who’s going to be in Cork prison, not her da. He’ll be in a fucking graveyard with his son beside him if either of them puts their hands on her again.”
