“What?” Kalvin splutters, a look of horror on his face.
Tears fill my eyes. “He has barely told me anything, but I know enough to understand it was bad. Really bad.”
Tension seeps into the air.
“Keats and I had come to the same conclusion recently,” Keanu admits, startling me. “Some things started adding up.” He closes his eyes for a second, and when he reopens them, they are flooded with unshed tears. “When Selena heard what happened, she told me she met with Kent earlier today. He told her he wanted to see a therapist. They talked for a bit, and she put him in touch with her therapist, Denise. I got Sel to call her. Kent made an appointment for tomorrow.”
A sob escapes my throat, and my chest heaves. “He promised me he was going to get help and get clean,” I say, barely seeing his brothers through the glassy film covering my eyes. “It was the only way I could stay with him. I couldn’t stand by and watch another man I love destroy himself through addiction.”
“Did he tell Sel anything else?” Kyler asks, his voice choked.
“He didn’t give her any details, but he confirmed it.”
“Fuck.” Kyler leans over the counter, burying his head in his hands.
Keanu picks up the broken glass, placing paper towels down over the wet patch on the floor. Pain stabs me in the heart like it does every time I think about Kent being hurt like that. Kalvin looks shell-shocked while Kyler keeps his head down, his shoulders heaving.
“Where is Kaden?” I ask, realizing he’s missing.
Strain stretches across Keanu’s face. “He thinks it’s another one of Kent’s cries for attention, and he’s refused to get involved.”
What a selfish prick. I’ve noticed Kent’s older brother seems to have an issue with him. He never wastes an opportunity to put him in his place, and they don’t seem close at all, which is weird since Kent is so close to Eva. “I can’t imagine that went down well with Eva.”
“Probably not,” Kalvin admits, pulling himself up onto a stool at the island unit. He tops up our drinks, but I place my hand over my glass before he can pour more in mine.
“Someone needs to be sober to drive.” Besides, my stomach is in knots and the previous mouthfuls of whiskey are sloshing uneasily around my tummy.
“We shouldn’t drink anymore,” Keanu agrees. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with here. We need to stay sharp.”
“Well, I fucking need another one after that revelation,” Kalvin says, knocking half his drink back. “Mom and Dad are going to be devastated.” He hangs his head as Kyler lifts his up.
Kyler’s eyes are red-rimmed and his cheeks damp. His Adam’s apple jumps in his throat as he pins anguished eyes on Keanu. “I should have noticed. I should have realized.”
Keanu places his hand on his brother’s back. “Don’t do this to yourself. You think I don’t feel like I’ve failed him too? I’m his triplet. I’ve been closest to him these past few years, and I didn’t know.”
“You can’t blame one another.” I rub a hand across my chest as piercing pain rips through my heart. “We need to focus on finding him before something happens.” Either Kent will get into bigger trouble, hurt himself, or The Vipers will get to him. None of those scenarios end well.
Kyler turns to face me. “Was it your foster brother? Is he the one responsible?” His nostrils flare, a muscle pops in his jaw, and his hands ball into fists at his sides.
Tears well in my eyes again. “I don’t know, Kyler,” I whisper. “All I know for sure is Kent has a serious issue with Clay.”
“It’s got to be connected.” Kalvin drains the last dregs of his drink. “You don’t almost beat a guy to death unless he has seriously wronged you.”
“I wish he’d fucking murdered the bastard,” Kyler hisses, and the skin on his knuckles blanches white he’s clenching them so hard.
“Ky.” Keanu jerks his head in my direction.
“I won’t apologize for that,” Kyler says, leveling me with a fierce look.
“I don’t expect you to. If Clay hurt Kent, I’ll end him myself.”
Kyler opens his mouth to say something else, but he’s cut off by the sound of the front door slamming. We turn around as one, watching Keven approach.
“Do you know where he is?” I ask, stepping toward him, pleading with my eyes.
He shakes his head, and my stomach plummets to my feet. “His car was abandoned a few miles from the bar. My colleagues are working off the assumption he called an Uber to take him someplace because they canvassed the local area and no one saw a thing.”
“They wouldn’t say even if they did,” I explain. “They don’t trust anyone in authority. The Vipers rule the streets, and everyone would be afraid to go up against them.” I’m hoping the crowd from the bar is the exception, but there is no guarantee even with the financial incentive.
