I didn’t make eye contact as I climbed into the passenger seat.
Despite the age of the car, it smelled new. Too new. Too polished. It made my throat clog with shit as I quietly pulled the door shut, slouched down in my seat and stared out through the front window.
The only sound that could be heard was the sloshing of the alcohol in the bottle as he lifted it to his lips, took a drink, then let it hang out of the open window again.
“Some days I feel like all I do is apologize,” I eventually said, breaking the silence.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he sniffed loudly, the same way I used to do when I was too fucking angry to verbalize what I was thinking.
“Sometimes I mean it. Other times I don’t,” I added quietly.
Slater sighed.
“I’m not going to apologize today, Slate. What I am going to do is tell you that I’m real fucking honored to have you in my life… and I’m real fucking honored that you care so much about me, you’re willing to become a moody fucker when I piss you off and give it to me straight.”
“Fuck you,” he hissed, low and not at all threatening.
“I love you, too, brother.”
“Don’t try this reverse psychology shit with me, Tucker.” He inhaled and exhaled even louder again. “Do you have anyidea what it felt like to walk into that warehouse all those months ago, and see an enemy pointing a gun at your bust up head? Do you have any idea of the dread and the fear I felt seeing you staring down the barrel of a gun with a building full of dead Emps around you?”
“It wasn’t exactly Thanksgiving for me, Slate.”
His attention turned quickly, snapping in my direction as he burned holes in the side of my head. I stared straight ahead, though. I could allow him his time.
“You know how you loved Pete?” he asked roughly.
I nodded, swallowing quickly. “Yeah.”
“Well, that’s how I love you. And I know I haven’t always been on a pedestal the way he was up there with you staring up at him. I know you’ve always seen me as some best friend equal. Maybe even someone beneath you—”
“Never.” I turned to face him quickly, my eyes narrowed and my jaw tense. “Never beneath me.”
“But never above you either.” He paused, grinding his teeth together before he raised the bottle of whiskey to his lips again, took another drink and dropped it in between his legs. “And that’s okay. I never wanted to be. I respected your relationship with our brother. I loved Pete, too. What I’m asking you to understand is that I see you the same way you saw him.” Slater lifted his free hand above his head, never taking his eyes from me. “Way up here. And so long as there is breath in my big-ass lungs, Tucker, I’m going to be your sergeant at arms. I’m going to be your tactician. I’m going to be the man at the front, willing to take a bullet to save your skinny fucking chest. I’m going to be the man wishing it was me taking the hits so you don’t have to.”
My face softened, the reality of what I’d already knownsinking in, penetrating my already full heart.
And it was when I was looking at him—Slater, a man breaking himself apart in front of me so I could fix myself up with his pieces—that I began to realize there were so many different kinds of love. The stuff I had for Ayda was intoxicating and powerful. It clouded my mind and gave me purpose. The love I had for my brothers, for Slater, was deep. It was embedded in my soul. It gave me clarity. It gave me focus.
“I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side,” I told him.
“Then fucking respect me once in awhile.”
I nodded. “I’m not just your president. I’m your friend. Your best friend. I don’t want to make excuses, but I lose my way sometimes, and I’m only just learning to admit that. But don’t you ever take my loyalty and brotherhood for you as anything less than what it is. If I ain’t respecting you, you let me know the first second I disrespect you. You understand me?”
Slater’s jaw was tense as he looked at me. “Yeah, I understand.”
“I’m sorry I let you down, brother.”
“You didn’t.” He sighed, turning his attention back to the view through the chain links.
I followed him, looking out through the front of the car window, too. “You pout worse than Ayda.” I smirked.
“Yeah, well, you can fuck the mood out of her. I ain’t ever letting you near my ass, Tucker, so sometimes you just have to put the fucking work in.”
“Always willing.”
“Noted.”
