Brody stands in the corner, within kicking distance of a still-unconscious Steven, and even now, I can’t help but blush. But something about having both David and my brother here with me, about David’s lack of concern at Brody’s presence—and about the way he reacted to him versus Steven, makes Brody’s threat seem less imminent, and I trust David’s judgment implicitly.
Wham!
Sammy’s fist makes contact with David’s cheek, and his head swings sideways, but he takes the punch in stride. He doesn’t hit back—he doesn’t even raise his arms to defend himself—and I fling myself between them before Sammy can strike again.
“Stop it!” I cry. “Fucking stop it!”
I don’t know how I expected my brother to react to David and me—I suppose a part of me hoped that now that he had Rory, he might understand. At the very worst, I thought he might voice his disapproval—maybe say something obnoxious or offensive. At no point did I consider he’d behave, quite literally, like a sixteen-year-old with anger issues he’s supposed to have sorted out.
And never did I imagine him looking at me with such incredible disdain. It slices me open in ways Sammy never has before. He’s the one who helps heal me, not the one who hurts, and that makes his bitter glare cut even deeper.
“What the fuck, Bits?” my brother spits out. “Have you lost your damned mind?”
David steps forward as if to defend me. “Don’t fucking say that to her,” he says pointedly.
My brother’s nostrils flare, but there’s a flash of remorse, as if he regrets at least his choice of words.
I want to diffuse the situation, but I don’t know how. I don’t know how to make Sammy okay with David and me, and I’m still half in shock from his reaction. Part of me wonders if David was right to keep us from Sammy in the first place, and I’m starting to regret all but daring him to out us.
And the worst part is I have no idea what happens now.
I wish I could tell David that I understand why he made the choice he did four years ago—that I forgive him for it. The truth is, selfishly, I never really grasped just what David had to lose, and just how close he must have come to losing it. And in this moment, when he’s finally risked it all…I can’t help but wonder if it’s really worth it. If I’m worth it.
My brother looks to David. “You’re a fucking dead man.”
“I won’t give her up,” he replies, and I gape at him.
“You motherfucking will,” Sammy says fervently.
But David keeps his calm, shaking his head matter-of-factly. Where I am unsure, David is adamant—his words, his stance, his expression, all utterly clear—leaving no question as to whether or not he thinks I’m worth it. And that means everything to me.
David looks meaningfully at his oldest friend. “I won’t. I can’t.”
Sammy looks to me, as if I might contradict David, but I won’t. I can’t.
My brother shakes his head with a look of disgust that shatters my heart, turning his back on us both.
But before he can turn to leave, he catches sight of Brody skulking against the wall, and stops short. A flash of recognition strains Sammy’s features before it’s replaced by confusion. But it doesn’t make any sense.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks Brody, suddenly sounding more drained than angry.
Brody shrugs, vaguely sheepish. “Just wanted to talk to her a minute.”
Huh?
“We agreed you’d wait.”
David looks between them, as lost as I am. “What the fuck is going on?” he demands.
“Family fucking business!” Sammy shouts in his face, and David bites back a retort.
“He is family!” I remind my brother, whose gaze swings to mine.
“Is he now?” he deadpans.
I glare at him, shaking my own head in disappointment at how he’s treating someone who is supposed to be one of his closest friends.
“Some shit went down,” Brody says simply.
