“Fucked them.”
El glanced behind him and grimaced an apology to the scandalized woman who hustled her giggling son away.
“Yeah, that,” he said. “Maybe ifI’d talked to you about it more, encouraged you to go after—fuck, I don’t know—some nice kid from school.”
“To be fair,” Cal interrupted, feeling awkward as the conversation suddenly felt real, “I never went to school.”
“Shut up,” El told him. “You’re a piss-poor adult, Cal, but you’re trying. That matters. And, like I said, maybe I should have told you this more often back then—you deservebetter. You need to find someone who treats you well, makes you feel good about yourself, not some version of our mum with a dick attached.”
It was El’s turn to get a stare from a passerby, although the woman slowed down instead of sped up. Cal supposed he couldn’t blame her.
“Jesus,” he said. His skull felt hot, and the skin across his shoulders tight, as if this were about to turn into a fight.He grimaced and crossed his arms as he tried to squash the sense that he was under attack. “I’m not—my life has nothing to do with our mum. She was never even around.”
“Yeah,” El said. “And that has absolutely nothing to do with why you hook up with people who think you’re their dirty little secret or why I married the first girl I ever dated, even though neither of us were finished people atthat point, so I didn’t bounce from relationship to relationship like our mother.”
“Yeah, you’re screwed up,” Cal said. He’d always liked Jane. She was smart, pretty, and mean enough to keep it fun. But they’d been at each other’s throats since they were sixteen. “I was having fun. Nothing… psychological… about it. And I’m not chasing after Van either.”
“So why were you there?”
“I needed afavor. He owed me,” Cal said. “That’s all.”
“What favor?”
“That’s my business.”
Frustration twisted at the corners of El’s mouth, but he let it go, that small bit of it anyway. “If you want, I can see if anyone knows more about Dexter and what went down back then.”
Cal thought about it for a second and then shook his head. “If you can,” he said, although he didn’t know if there was any point.He’d thought that Harry Bailey might have a shady past, bad enough that someone had passed their grudge down onto his son. It was still possible, but less likely the answers were in their grandad’s old records. Still, it might turn up something through Dexter. “I wondered how Grandad knew him.”
El looked away for a second, his profile backlit by the sun. “You know, I know when you’re lying,”he said. “Fine, don’t tell me. But don’t go back. Van and that lot, even Malcolm, they’ll drag you back in. You’re better than that.”
Cal scowled and squirmed in place as though he’d been caught on a hook. His ears were too hot, and he still wanted to punch El—an easy outlet for the hot-wire scratch under his skin. Most of the time, people accepted that he would live down to their expectations.
“Yeah, well….” He scratched his head and felt like an idiot as he shrugged. “Don’t know about that, but I’m done with Van. He looks like hell these days.”
El rolled his eyes. “Sure,” he said. “That’s the reason. If you change your mind about Dexter, let me know. Take care of yourself, little brother. Or find someone who’ll do a good job at it.”
The incongruity of that made Cal snort as he stoodup. He gestured at himself. “Do I look like I need taking care of?”
“Naw,” El said. He pulled Cal into a rough, sweaty hug and muttered into his ear, “But you do. I know you.”
One last, back-slapping squeeze and El took his leave. Cal watched his brother’s back disappear into the crowd with that scratchy mixture of annoyance and affection. He loved his brother, but El was wrong. Cal had neverneeded anyone.
Maybe, a quiet, stubborn voice whispered in the back of his brain, hewantedsomeone.
He ignored it.
