It’s mine.
And that includesourfalling out.
And until I can come to terms with that—until I can forgive myself—I’ll never be able to offer forgiveness to anyone else.
12
We pull up to the bar, the lot crammed with cars. The only open spot is across the street, and I have to wedge the truck in just to make it fit.
Ayden falls in step a few paces from me as we cross the road and power-walk toward the building. “The View House” is sprawled across the front in spray paint, the only real marker of the place besides the neon sign flashing “Bar”. It’s all old brick, no frills.
Inside, the place is alive, noise and movement crashing all at once. Standard tap house vibes; random movie posters, license plates bolted to the walls, a dozen TVs broadcasting the game. The crush of people is immediate. Bodies shoulder to shoulder.
Ayden ends up pressed against my side as we fight our way in. My eyes sweep the crowd until I spot Corey waving. Without thinking, my hand goes to the small of Ayden’s back, guiding him with me through the throng. He stiffens like he wants to resist, but I don’t let go. It’s just to cut through the mob, nothing more. He’s likely never been here, and you know, I don’t want… something happening.
Excuses.I know it, but whatever, I won’t bother to dig too deep into it.
We break free of the worst of the crowd gathered around the bar, all eyes glued to the opening kick.
Taylor spots me and shrieks, grinning wide. “Fuck yes! You came! We thought Britt was a filthy little liar.”
At the table, Brittany is already seated, gaping at Taylor.
Corey drapes his arm over the bench seat and shifts from looking at me, to Ayden. “Didn’t know you were bringing a friend. The more the merrier to watch the absolute hurt on your face when the Cardinals get destroyed.”
“It’s honestly hilarious you all think I’m a fan of themjustbecause I lived there.”
It isn’t until Ayden shifts slightly that I realize my hand is still resting on his lower back. Heat pricks at my neck as I pull away, quick and casual, like it was nothing.
I clear my throat and gesture toward the table, introducing everyone, and then him to them.
“How do you know Keoni?” Kali asks as Ayden slips in beside Taylor, and I shift to take the spot next to Corey. There isn’t enough room on that side anyway, and probably for the best. If I’m going to drink tonight, better not do it within arm’s reach of him.
He looks up at me. “Um… I’m his?—”
“Friend,” I cut him off, before sending warning signals straight to Brittany. “I met him in high school.”
Technically,technically—technically—we are no longer stepbrothers, so I shouldn’t introduce him as such.
Not that it matters.
“Are you also from Arizona?” Kali continues.
My therapist friend gives me a probing look, but she can drown in her curiosity. I’ve no doubt she’ll tuck it away for next week to discuss why I didn’t introduce him as my stepbrother.
“Ah, I love San Francisco,” Taylor coos. “I want to go back. Nothing compares to their clam chowder bread bowls.”
“Have you never been to New England?” Corey slings his other arm across the back of the bench, not touching me, just letting it hang there. “That’spure perfection clam chowder.”
“I’ve had both,” Ayden says, and I catch his eyes zeroing in on something to my left. I peek over to see what it could be, and see Corey’s hand. “I’d vote for the Bay’s being better.”
That has the redhead bellowing out a “HAH,” causing the rest of the table to erupt into laughter.
We all fall into easy conversation, Corey and I splitting our attention between the game and each other’s commentary. Brittany and Taylor chime in every so often, though they’re clearly more interested in their own side chat.
I can’t help but notice after a few rounds of beers for us, Ayden has simply stuck with water.
Taylor and Britt ask if he wanted something else, but he simply shook his head.
