“Yeah, I get that.” He nods a couple times, his lips lifting in a small smile, and I’d hazard he’s thinking about his own sordid path to a relationship with Quinton. But then the smile turns bittersweet, and he floors me with what comes out next. “Y’know, seeing you with him…I’m kinda jealous.”
I’m sure my eyes are the size of saucers as I gawk at him in disbelief, stumbling to find a response.
“I…What?But you and Quinton—”
“Not because I wanna date him. I love Quinton with everything I am,” he corrects, though his smile is still laced with pain. “I guess I should say I’m jealousof him.”
My brows collide, and I shake my head. “But why?”
There’s a beat of silence where Oakley’s head bows slightly, almost as if resigning himself. To what? I’m not sure. But it’s a look of defeat if I’ve ever seen one.
“You’ve opened up to him the way you never have with me, and you did it despite him being as deeply invested in hockey as I am. I mean, you let him teach you how to skate today? Shit, I would’ve loved to do that with you. Or at least been there to see it. It actually…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his head with a dry laugh. “God, it kinda fucking hurts, Loge. It hurts like hell.”
His admission takes me by surprise, but not nearly as much as the pain I now notice flickering in his eyes and etched in his jaw. The sight of it diffuses my defense mechanisms of sarcasm and wit, causing me to take a few seconds to piece together a coherent sentence.
“I didn’t think you cared,” I whisper, hating the quiver in my voice. “It’s always been you and Dad and Uncle Trevorhaving this unspoken bond, and I’ve been left out in the cold.”
“Of course I care. I want a relationship with you, Loge.” He rounds the counter and drops onto the stool beside me, abandoning his food on the other side of the island in favor of our conversation. There’s a hesitancy that’s sonotOakley lingering in his eyes before he reaches out and rests his hand on my forearm. “I wanna be your brother. I mean,reallybe brothers. It’s what I’ve always wanted, but I never felt like I could push for that because all I’ve ever felt from you is resentment.”
I shake my head. “I don’t—”
“We might not be close, but I’m still your brother,” he cuts in, his lips forming a tight line. “Which means I know when you’re lying.”
My jaw tenses, hating that he’s right.
I may have explained my frustrations to Mom but never to Oakley directly. Sure, it was never hard to deduce, and I’ve never tried to keep it a secret from him, but it’s always been unspoken; neither of us giving a voice or name to the wall built between us.
Until now.
Blinking a couple times, I steel myself and whisper the question I’ve held back for years. The one making up the very foundation of the wall he just took down with a single swing.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to live in your shadow?”
This time, it’s his gaze lowering to the counter, and he shakes his head. But then he follows with a question of his own, attention lifting to me again.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to drown under the pressure from being in the light?”
And now it’s my turn to wordlessly shake my head.
“I understand how you feel more than you think, Loge. It may seem like you’re stuck in my shadow, but I’ve lived my entire life being stuck in Dad’s. And Uncle Trevor’s.”
“That was your choice, though.”
“Was it?” he counters, his head tilting slightly. “I mean, yeah, I love the game, and I’m proud of what I’ve done to continue this family’s legacy, but would I have even put on skates of my own volition if I weren’t a Reed?”
I can feel the gentle squeeze he gives my arm all the way up in my chest when he continues. “I’m not saying this to try and invalidate what you’re feeling or to make you feel bad for me. I’ve made peace with this being how things are, and for the most part, I’m happy. I’m just trying to let you know, in a way, I get it. And it sucks. So for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry. Especially if it costs me my brother.”
His voice wavers a little near the end, and hearing the emotion—the pain and regret—in his tone? Fuck, it breaks something inside me. I’ve never once given a thought to how it would feel to shoulder a legacy. To uphold it. How Oakley might also be suffocating under the weight of all these expectations. I’ve been too busy fighting them at every turn; too focused on my own suffering to even consider the possibility of his.
And now I just feel like an asshole because of it.
“It’s not all on you,” I whisper, my own voice crackling like a blown speaker. “It’s not like I gave you much of a chance to begin with. I was too angry to bother.”
“Then maybe we take this as a chance to move past this whole fucking legacy and just be brothers. If you’re willing.”
Part of me can’t believe the words leaving his mouth, and I’m almost certain this is a dream or some alternate reality I’ve landed in. But it’s also the biggest opening we’ve ever had to make things right between us, and I’d be a goddamn fool to push it away.
Inanyuniverse.
