I shake my head again.
He sighs. Takes a sip of his drink. “Remember the intervention we talked about?”
Yeah, guess the mirror circle doesn’t count.
I look down at the table. “I remember.”
My brother studies me. Uses his paramedic assessment face. The one that sees through every wall you try to build. “Do you love him?”
The question lands like a punch.
I open my mouth. Close it. Take another sip of my aggressive grapefruit situation.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I finally say. The words taste worse than the drink.
“Jess...”
I shake my head. “Seriously, I don’t. I’m just an employee.”
He doesn’t press it.
What I said is true. Iamjust an employee. Especially now. Hiding in his room. Refusing to let me see him. Running his empire from the shadows.
How can you love someone like that?
I find myself saying softly: “I’m not sure he’ll ever get back to his old self.” I blink sadly. “You know, I still feel guilty. About being too slow with the bear spray. About not protecting him better. About... everything.”
“Jess.” My brother’s voice is firm. “You saved their lives.” He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Give yourself some credit.”
I want to believe him. Want to accept that I did my best in an impossible situation.
But the guilt sits heavy anyway.
We finish our drinks. Ethan pays despite my protests. Something about big brother privileges.
We’re heading toward the exit when Ethan suddenly stops near the bar area.
“Larkin?” he asks, sounding surprised.
The man seated at the bar next to him sluggishly looks up. Early thirties. Messy hair. His eyes have the dull sheen of a drunk who’s still technically upright but his brain checked out three drinks ago.
“Man, I haven’t seen you in forever,” Ethan continues. “Why’d you stop coming to jiu-jitsu?”
Larkin Voss. The name registers dimly. One of Ethan’s gym buddies from a few years back.
“Oh hey.” Larkin burps. Loudly. Then he slaps the ass of a passing waitress.
The woman whirls around. Her eyes promise murder.
“Hey, I tip well don’t I?” Larkin grins like that makesharassment okay.
The waitress glowers and walks away. Probably debating whether assault charges are worth it.
“Nice friend,” I mutter under my breath.
“What was the question?” Larkin asks. He’s swaying slightly.
“Never mind,” Ethan says. He’s already steering me toward the door. “Good seeing you.”
