"Brady, it's not what you think," I pleaded, but the words felt hollow even to my own ears. "It's...complicated."
"Complicated?" He laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "It's simple, Fallon. You're putting yourself in danger. And I won't let it fucking happen."
He lunged forward, grabbed my arm, and began to drag me towards the front door. "Where are you taking me?" I cried, struggling against his grip.
"Away from here. Away from him," Brady answered, his voice filled with a desperate resolve.
Hitch stepped in front of Brady, blocking his path. "Let her go, Brady," he said, his voice hard.
Brady didn't hesitate. "Get out of my fucking way, Hitch."
"You're hurting her."
"And I'm trying to protect my sister!"
I watched, paralyzed, as the two men, each with their own brand of protectiveness, stood facing off against one another. Brady was out of control, and I knew it was because Nina's murder was haunting him. He'd have good days when he wouldn't even think about it, but he had bad days where all of their memories hit him and he spiraled the entire day. It was like she was a drug and she kept him high all day. When he did have her he was 'Brady', my sweet brother who would give me the moon if I said I wanted it.
Nina's murder had changed him—it stole my brother. But the secrets and the aftermath taunted him daily, much like they did for me. It was a fucking miracle both of us were still standing after everything we had been through. But we had Julian to worry about, he was the only thing that saved us, we just didn't know how much he was going to change our lives.
Hitch pushed Brady, not hard, but with enough force to make him stumble backwards. "You're acting crazy, man. Let her go."
Brady, regaining his balance, glared at Hitch. "Stay out of this, you don't fucking understand."
"Maybe I do," Hitch countered, his jaw tight. "I see how much you love her, but you're fucking suffocating her. You're scaring her."
I was caught in the middle, torn between the two men I loved—in different ways. Brady's grip on my arm was bruising, and his eyes were wild with a protectiveness that had morphed into something dangerous. I knew Hitch was right, but I alsounderstood the source of Brady's rage. He was losing control, and I was the one paying the price.
"Both of you, stop it!" I shouted, finally finding my voice. "Brady, you're hurting me! Hitch, stay out of this."
My pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears. Brady and Hitch continued to stare each other down, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. Brady's face was contorted, a mixture of anger, grief, and something akin to desperation. He looked like he was about to lose it. I knew he was close. I could feel the electricity in the air, the impending storm.
Hitch didn't back down. He stood his ground, his gaze unwavering, and I saw a flicker of something new in his eyes—a protectiveness that went beyond mere lust, a desire to keep me safe. It was a strange mix of emotions, and one that made me feel more confused than ever.
I hated seeing Brady like this, and I knew deep down he was only trying to protect me. But I couldn't ignore the way his grip on my arm was growing tighter, the frantic look in his eyes that had turned manic. I couldn't let him take me away like this. Not now. Not when everything was so unstable.
"Brady, I can't," I said, my voice coming out in a desperate whisper.
He looked at me, his face falling, the fight draining out of him before my eyes. The devastation was palpable. "Why?" he asked, the word laced with pain.
I looked at Hitch, who was watching me closely, waiting for my next move. I knew I was playing with fire, leading both of them on, but I wasn't ready to let either of them go. Not yet.
"Because..." I paused, searching for the right words, for a way to explain the impossible. "Because I need to figure things out. For myself."
Brady's face hardened again, the brief moment of vulnerability vanishing. "Figure things out? With him?" He gestured towards Hitch with a sneer.
"Not necessarily," I countered. "I just need space. Time."
He laughed, a bitter sound that grated on my ears. "Space? You think you have time? You thinkwehave time?" He was right, but what was I supposed to do? What could I do?
"You're making a mistake, Fallon," he said, his voice flat.
He was defeated. He knew he'd lost. I took a step towards him, but he flinched, as if expecting a blow. The sight tore at my heart.
"I'm sorry, Brady," I whispered, the words catching in my throat.
He turned away, unable to meet my gaze. "Fine," he muttered, his shoulders slumping. "Do what you fucking want."
He started to walk towards the front door, his steps heavy, his posture broken. I watched him go, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me, a feeling that quickly turned into a dull ache. My brother was spiraling. And I caused it. As he reached the door, he stopped and turned back to me, his eyes red-rimmed.
