Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
I stand there, speechless. I remember the dog, but I don’t remember Kade having a problem with…
“You didn’t tell me you—”
“Well, what was I supposed to do?” he growls, cutting me off. “Force him to love me again?”
Dylan remains quiet, and I try to put myself in Kade’s shoes and imagine how that probably felt.
But he keeps going. “And the time we were camping out in the backyard,” he says, “but you told Dylan to stay and camp with us, without asking me, so instead of you and me, it’s you helping her bait her hook, and you helping her get wood for the fire, and you helping her make a fucking s’more…” His brow etches with pain. “And we were going to do laser tag, but we couldn’t because there were only two guns. We were earning patches, Hunter! It was supposed to be you and me!”
I open my mouth, but I can’t talk. My heart aches, remembering that night.
“And the time I was drunk,” he continues, tearing up again, “and I don’t even remember the girl I lost my virginity to, and I wanted to talk to you, because I was feeling…” He looks away, his jaw flexing so hard, because he’s trying to keep his emotions in check. “I was kind of feeling like shit about it, but you two looked so happy, blowing up balloons for A.J.’s birthday, and I decided to keep my mouth shut because…”
My chin shakes. Because he didn’t trust me enough to be vulnerable with me.
I turn away, closing my eyes and letting the tears spill over. Goddamn.
He doesn’t continue, but I’m sure there a lot more instances—as many as the ones I remember where he was the villain in my story.
“So,” Dylan says quietly. “Everything—all the fighting—for the past ten years was because you…missed him?”
“I’m not…” Kade stammers. “I’m not…so good…about communication.”
“Noooo shit.” I turn around. “Wow. Jesus Christ, Kade.”
He couldn’t talk to me?
“I always knew you loved her,” he blurts out, almost begging, “so I was mean to her at first. I wanted it just to be us sometimes, all right? I was a fucking kid!”
All the times he was mean to her when we were little. Telling her to leave us alone and…
I clench my fists.
“And then later,” he goes on, “she turned out pretty cool, and I genuinely loved her—I mean, like a cousin-love.” He throws her a look. “I don’t want to fuck you.” He looks back at me. “So I just started doing shit to keep you guys apart for a little while. Just a little while.”
I glare. “To make me shrink—”
“Because I knew…” He just keeps going. “I knew you loved her, and whenever you finally…made love to her, it would be over for me. You’d be hers for the rest of your life.”
I hook the back of his neck and slam him down on the hood of my car. “You put us through all of that! What the hell?”
“It got out of hand, okay?” He doesn’t fight back or try to escape my hold. “Way out of hand! I was fucking pissed, and I just got angrier and angrier—”
“You mean your ego just couldn’t handle it!” I shout. “You fucked with her head. You deliberately confused her for years! That’s why you didn’t make your move while I was gone. You had what you wanted! Us apart.”
“I didn’t think you were going to fucking leave!”
I shove away from him, backing up. “So, you doubled-down instead of stopping me and talking to me?”
I mean, shit! All this time? He never wanted Dylan. He wanted…
I shake my head, running my hands through my hair.
He just wanted his brother back?
I bow my head, locking my fingers behind my neck and try to slow my breathing.
I can understand being a kid and not knowing how to express yourself, but was I supposed to read his damn mind? I was a kid too. I had no idea he was mad when I wanted to include Dylan. She was family and our age. Why wouldn’t I?
But yeah, that dog thing was shitty. I didn’t realize I was doing anything wrong, but I can see how that hurt.
The years just piled on, and after a while neither one of us could swallow our pride and be open with the other. Feeling so alone, I left, and he perpetuated the only interaction with me he knew how to do anymore, because, at least, he stayed important that way.
We stand there, and I have no idea what the next move is, but I’m not mad anymore. I love Dylan, and I really want my brother back.
“I love you guys,” Dylan whispers, exhaling hard as she backs away. “Please, go get drunk, make that tent, and have a good weekend.”
I watch her climb on her bike, fasten her helmet, and drive away, her taillights visible until she pulls onto the highway.