“You’re mad that I got her pregnant and gave her a baby. You’re so desperate to hide that fact from me that I didn’t even know she had a child!”
He rushes me, bunching my shirt between his fists. If anger was a person, my brother, with all his pent-up rage, would be it.
“Lev is my son. Not yours.”
“Why? Because you raised him without bothering to tell me? He has my blood, Jason. My blood. He is mine.”
“No, he fucking isn’t,” he barks, spittle leaving his mouth.
“How does it feel knowing my cock gave your wife what she wanted most?”
Those words do it. He swings back and hits me right in the eye. I stumble back and then charge, tackling him to the ground. The whoosh of air that leaves me from the impact doesn’t stop my assault. He ruined everything. By fucking some slut and making me love his wife, all the way to him not telling me I had a child. My own fucking flesh and blood.
“Stop!” Lo screeches. “Stop it!” I hear her, but I don’t. The muddied way my mind is set on hurting my brother and making him feel my absolute agony is stronger than her pleas.
It isn’t until someone pulls us apart that I notice how badly we’ve wrecked each other. Ace glares at us both, and I’m shocked to see the kid is the same height as us and even a little bulkier. He must’ve had one hell of a growth spurt in the past few years.
We kept in touch, but I hadn’t seen him at all in that time. He’s unamused at the predicament I’ve found myself in.
“You two are such little bitches,” he curses. His expressionless mask doesn’t hide the contempt coming off him in waves. “Both of you cheat and fuck other women. For what? Why don’t you leave?”
When neither of us have an answer, he scoffs.
“You’re both dipshits. My mom deserves better, and Joey sure as hell does too.”
I’m nodding at him because he’s right. I’ve fucked up so many times that I’ve lost count.
“You need to get this off your chest,” he says as he points at me. “Talk to Mom and get this shit over with.” When Jase goes to protest, Ace narrows his eyes into slits.
“And you need to fucking let it go. You fucked up while he swooped in and raised your kids.”
“You little—”
“Stop,” Lo hisses. “Toby, let’s talk. Ace, behave.”
Ace rolls his eyes at his mom as I walk past him, following Lo to wherever she decides to take me. This’ll be fun.
As soon as we enter her old guest room, the words bleed out of me.
“Do you realize how hard it was to watch you fall apart?”
“T-Toby,” she tries, but I stop her, needing her silence. Never thought I'd want that, her nothingness, the non-existence of words, apologies, and feelings... but I do.
“Please, I need to say this.”
She nods, her eyes sadder than I’ve seen in a long time. You see, when she went into her numbness, a lot of the grief disappeared entirely.
Right now, it’s shining brightly, illuminating as a Zippo flickered to life during a power cut
Now, her pain is as vibrant as a double rainbow, giving twice the hope, doubling the chances of happiness. It’s change.
“When you fell apart all those times, so did I. Along with you, I died.”
Slowly. Withering. Desperately.
“That connection I’d held so dear since high school, it was there. I knew it. Whether buried deep or at the surface trying to claw out, it was there, and I needed it. I didn’t know how to achieve it. I only knew I needed to. I thought, maybe if I loved you more than living, I’d deserve you and finally not feel alone.”
Understanding stirs in her eyes, it wells up over her eyelids like a promise. And they are. Promising healing, sanctuary, and hope.
That’s the problem with hope, though. You fool yourself into thinking you're meant to be, but reality has a harsh way of showing you how wrong you are.
“You fixed me.”
“Tobe—”
“No, let me talk, Sparkle. Please,” I implore, watching as her face blotches with emotion. “That day, when we were in the hospital, you stood up to Brant. It was the first day I felt more scared for you than myself. It was a day-to-day fear. Death. Not knowing if he’d kick too high or into a narrow crevasse where my heart would decide to give out and it’d be more than my body could endure...” I