doesn’t want to talk about the fact that Brant hit him. While Brant used to be bigger than me, like he is with Tobes, it’s different now. I fight back. It gets me beat more, but it’s worth it.
“No. Doesn’t fucking matter. What. Did. He. Do?” My voice brooks no argument as I grip my brother’s shoulders. I stare into his fearful eyes, the ones that haven’t had that boyish glint in years.
He doesn’t realize I know his secrets.
He drinks.
Like a goddamn sailor.
Just like me, except my vice of choice is weed and Molly because booze barely does anything for me. Finally reaching my gaze, Tobes bites the inside of his cheek.
“I can’t stop, Jase. I’ve fucking tried.” I bring him to my chest, feeling him relax and breathe. His chest rises and falls as if the world finally let up on weighing him down.
“Let me help. Anything, Toby. I’ll do anything you need.”
And I will.
Even if Brant kills me.
I’ll save him.
Always.
I’m brought back from the memory when Toby’s voice is in my ear.
“Jase? You there?” He sounds so fucking broken, showing me the lost fourteen-year-old kid is still in there. Broken. Scathed. Damaged.
“Yeah, yeah. What’s wrong?”
He lets out a heavy exhale, and fuck if that doesn’t make me feel like a shitty brother. “Can we meet?” The fact that he wants to see me face-to-face scares me far more than it should.
Does he want to ruin my life?
Does he need help?
Is he still my brother?
“Yeah, I’m at C&C for the day. Stop by.”
“That didn’t go so well the last time,” he mutters. Toby came here five years ago, causing havoc amongst my employees. It wasn’t pretty, and that asshole can throw a punch.
“That’s all I can give. Lo’s super busy at home,” I lie. Not wanting to admit the fact that we have a son and Toby has no fucking clue every secret bridled there.
“Be there in ten,” he finally responds, his exasperated breath only offers me more confusion.
Twelve minutes later, I’m opening the door to my brother, and he looks worse for wear. His eyes are bloodshot, his skin sallow, and the fucking haunted expression on his face isn’t one I recognize. The only time he ever agonized like this was when Lo tried committing suicide.
“You look like shit,” I offer.
“No shit, Sherlock. Got anymore compliments?”
“Still a fucking brat, it seems.” We both laugh at that. The familiarity wraps around me, but with that, memories do too. The rose vines wrapping around my heart, needling the appendage with pain and hatred. Why does this exist? Why does this ache still hit me?
“I’m sorry for coming out of nowhere.” Our eyes meet, his full of remorse. The surprise on my face must show since he’s grimacing in the next moment. “I’m a shit brother, a fuck-up. I mean, it’s not news, Jase. Since we were kids, you were perfect, and I was the troubled child.”
“You said it,” I return, walking back to my desk. Instead of sitting behind it, I lean against it, feeling the way Tobe watches me with heated anger. But unlike five years ago, it isn’t leveled at me, it’s elsewhere, somewhere I’m not privy to. Makes sense since we’ve been apart for so long.
“I’m married,” he shoots out, scratching his stubbly chin. Closing his eyes, he grips his forehead and starts rubbing it as if it’s throbbing.
“No shit?” I question, not believing my own ears. Hearing that he moved on from my life is the best news I’ve had since Lev was born.
“Such surprise, brother,” he complains. “Fuck you very much.”
“Going to explain why you’re here?” I ignore his baiting. He better not want anything to do with my son. He just fucking better not.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
And there it is.
“No.”
“Why the fuck not?” he bites out, gripping his hair, tugging like the thought is blasphemous. Is it really? To think he fucked everything up—no matter our relation—and doesn’t feel bad? To believe he’d have any right to my child? Fuck that.
“He’s not yours.”
“DNA doesn’t lie, fucker.”
“DNA doesn’t make a father, dick. Just ask Gene.”
He rushes me, his fists gripping my shirt. I ball up my own, preparing to fight if need be. This is my family. Lev is mine. Lo is mine. They’re all mine.
Letting go and pushing off my chest, he lets out a strangled noise. Then his eyes are wet. “That’s not why I’m here,” he says raggedly. My eyes wander over his face, trying to detect lies.
“You said