My eyes go wide and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.
Elliot just shrugs. “I’ve never heard of a Vampire with two penises but it’s definitely making a brother step his game up with—”
I hold up a hand. “Please, spare me the rest of that sentence.”
Still, the revelation takes a minute to process. This version of my brother doesn’t fit the one I’ve carried in my head for years—the irresponsible fuck-up who only ever thought of himself.
I also haven't forgotten the way he tried to flirt with Max at the boutique. I make a mental note to ask him what that was about later. Looking back, I assume he was just playing a part because he recognized her from the article, but he still needs to watch it. Max is mine and I don’t care if she lives in another country. And I don’t care if that makes me sound possessive. It's still a truth I’m not ready to let go of.
But I decide I’ll have a chat with him about that later.
Dr. Warren finishes entering some notes on the computer in the room and excuses himself.
Elliot turns to Vanessa before she can say anything that might disrupt the rare peace that’s sitting between us. “Can you give us a minute, babe?”
She doesn’t fight him. She nods, then steps out as well.
I will never understand these two.
The room is quiet.
Then Elliot speaks. “I owe you an apology.”
I cross my arms, posturing. “For what?”
He lets out a humorless laugh. “How about all of it? For making you the responsible one.”
I freeze.
He exhales. “I was jealous. I’ve always been jealous of you.”
I frown. “I don’t understand.”
“Everytime dad came home from a business trip, he spent more time with you. He taught you things. Talked to you about things.”
“El,” I say, settling back into our old nickname and rhythms. “You were young. You weren’t even interested—”
He holds up a hand. “Just let me finish. No matter how unreasonable it sounds. Just let me finish.”
I nod.
“I felt invisible. So I acted out. Over and over. First it was to get his attention. Then, after dad died, it was just who I became. The fuck-up.”
“Your words,” I say, not arguing.
Our mother squeezes my hand, and when I look at her, I see something I wasn’t willing to recognize before. It’s not forgiveness. Not yet. But for the first time, a sharp, cold understanding cracks through the anger I’ve been gripping like a weapon for years. The resentment doesn’t vanish, but it thins, letting in a sliver of light that I’m not quite ready for, but can no longer ignore.
“I’ve been in therapy,” Elliot adds. “A while now. It’s made me face some shit. Even with Vanessa.”
Shit. Here we go.
He swallows. “I felt like you took dad from me. So, when I had the chance to take something from you, I did. I knew she was trying to sabotage you and I felt like the golden child was finally being brought down.”
“Are you serious, El?”
“Let him apologize,” my mom says.
Elliot holds up his hands, continuing. “Yeah. And I now how fucked up that is.”
