Johnny’s eyeslock on mine as he enters the room. His eyes widen before he schools his features into his familiar flat expression. He scans the room, looking for one of my brothers maybe.
I get it.
I’ve never once, in eighteen years, come to see him alone. And now, looking at him, I feel really fucking bad for that.
The guard shackles him at the table, then exits the room, giving Johnny a nod on his way out. That sign of respect grounds me. Makes me glad that even if I had my head up my ass about visiting him, we still make sure he was treated well in here.
I take the seat across from him, and we sit, staring at each other for the first time in nearly two decades. He looks older. Of course he does, but the hardness in his eyes, in his face is new. Not surprising, but still jarring to finally take in.
Finally, I break the silence. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
My words hang there, between us, vibrating with all the pain and loss and disappointment between us. He swallows and presses his mouth into a thin line. I’m prepared for him to say nothing. Honestly, I’m expecting it. But he shocks the shit out of me.
“What the fuck for?”
“I…for everything man. For letting you get locked up in here, for not sticking with you after mom died. For not visiting you. I just…” I trail off, not sure how to explain everything I’ve felt for and about him.
He’s still. Reserved. I don’t remember that about him. When we were kids, he was in constant motion, even if it was just a tapping toe. Somewhere along the line, he stopped being that kid. Now, his stillness is unnerving somehow.
“Nothing that happened was your fault, brother. None of it.” His words are slow and measured. Gaining strength as he continues. “I’ve been in this shithole for a long fucking time. It’s given me a lot of time to think. To understand how I fucked up.”
An immediate, instinctive denial is on my lips, but he shakes his head.
“I did. I fucked up. When mom died, we should have been a team, but instead, I turned on you.”
“Why?” I ask, pain from long ago echoing through me. “I don’t understand what I did to make you so angry”
His sigh is long, painful. Full of regret. “You didn’t do anything, not really. But it was easy to blame you.” He absentmindedly runs the chain of the cuffs through the bracket on the table. “Before mom had you, she was healthy. And after…I remember wishing you were never born because then she wouldn’t be fading away. I was watching her disappear in front of my eyes, and you were the only one around to blame.”
His words batter at me, making me want to yell, to defend myself. To remind him that I was only a kid and it wasn’t my fault. But I see it. In his eyes. His understanding of all of that.
“I was a stupid fucking kid, and when she died I couldn’t fucking handle it. I turned it on you. It was never your fault Colton, I know that.”
Tears spring to my eyes. “I haven’t heard you say my name since that day.”
His hands, cuffed at the wrists, tighten into fists. “I know. I’m sorry too. I’ve been sorry for a long time. That’s why I did what I did.”
I shoot up, not even conscious of my movement. He’s sitting there calmly, like he didn’t just change my entire worldview. Slowly, I sink back down.
“Are you telling me you went after that fucker as an apology?”
For the first time in forever, he cracks a smile. “Yeah. Maybe not well thought out, but it was really fucking effective. They backed the fuck off, didn’t they?”
“Yeah, they did.” My brother killed one of the most notorious drug dealers in the city as an apology. Jesus, are we fucked up or what.
“Can you lay it out, brother?”
He shrugs. “He was planning to take you all out. He didn’t like you guys on his turf, especially since you were fucking up his business. He planned to send a message.”
“And you got wind of it?”
He nods. “I was just going there to talk to him, but he didn’t want to listen. And then he got pushy and shit got ugly. I didn’t plan it, but when it was done, I figured I better make sure the message was clear.”
“The message,” I echo. “What was the message.” I know what the result was, but I never knew all of this. He pleaded guilty, and we never got details. Declan offered to dig into it for me, but I couldn’t go there.
“That no one touched you.” He grins, “The Brash Brothers – stupid fucking name by the way – were off limits. They knew I had pull on the streets. I made sure they all knew it’s bad business to cross me, too.”
“It was a stupid name, but Brash Group sounds really fucking good, doesn’t it?” I say with a smirk.
