Page 150 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

“Never!” Marcus practically shouts.

“Lee, that's never been true, and it never will be,” I say.

“But it must have occurred to you.” Leon's voice is even quieter now. “That this could change things. That if I found out, it could be the end of us. All of it. Fifteen years, gone.”

Nobody answers.

“At some point,” he says, “all three of you decided that was a loss you were willing to risk.”

Still nobody says anything, because when it comes down to it, he's right. Whether we're willing to admit it or not.

“So.” Leon looks at each of us in turn. “If it came down to choosing. Between me and her. What would it be.”

And there it is. Why we're all here. We knew it was coming to this, no matter how much we were hoping it wouldn't.

“Are you asking just to know,” Rhys says, “or are you asking us to actually decide, right now?”

Leon doesn't back down. “Does it make a difference?”

“Yes. It makes a difference to me,” I tell him.

“Me too,” Marcus says.

“So?” Rhys, to Leon. “Which is it?”

It's amazing how the tables can turn in a matter of seconds. Now we're all holding our breath to hear his answer.

“What's your answer?” Leon fires it straight back.

Rhys is quiet for a second, and when he answers, his voice is strong, confident, like he believes every word.

“My answer is this. She would never have made us choose. Never. In fact, the thing she wanted least in all of this, other than you getting hurt, was making us choose, putting us in a position where we'd lose either of you. Because she knew how much you meant to us, how much we'd lose without you in our lives. So, in the end, she made the decision for us, she left, thinking losing her was the smaller loss — thought we'd get over it, because if she stepped back, none of us would ever have to lose you.” He looks at Leon steadily. “You're the reason we ever met her in the first place. And you're my brother, my friend. But now you're also the reason all three of us have lost the best thing that's ever happened to any of us.”

Leon doesn't say anything.

“You know I love you.” I have to say it before I lose the nerve. “I couldn't love you more if we actually shared blood. I would never want to hurt you, Leon. But it just so happens that the person who makes me feel more seen, more understood than anyone else on this earth also shares your last name. If I could change that, I would. But I can't let her go. I've tried.”

My hands are shaking. I press them flat against my thighs and hope nobody notices.

Marcus doesn't say anything for a second, just stares down at his hands, and when he starts talking, his voice has gone soft.

“You remember how we actually met? Year Three. You decked that kid who kept nicking my lunch. Got two weeks' detention for it. Didn't even hesitate.” He laughs, short and a bit wrecked. “I knew that day you were going to matter more to me than almost anyone outside my own family for the rest of my life. You're the brother I picked.” He scrubs a hand over his face, and when he looks up there's nothing easy left in it. “I'd never want to give that up. But she's my family too now. And she needs me exactly as much as I need her. I can't walk away from either of you. And I won't.”

Leon sits with our confessions for what feels like a lifetime, looking at the three of us in turn.

“Well,” he says finally. “I guess that settles it.”

FORTY-THREE

Alexia

“Okay, I think you're actually starting to morph into that couch.”

I look over in the direction of the voice and say, “Firstly, rude. Secondly, true.”

Aria's curled in the armchair with her sketchpad, not looking up, the rain almost deafening as it drenches the balcony. I've been camped out at Elliot's house in Mt Lofty because it's a slightly closer drive to Adelaide uni than the beach house. When I protested the offer to stay there, Betty just rolled her eyes and said, “Please, it's not out of the goodness of his heart. This gets you out of the beach house, so he can get back to the Mothership.”

I'd laughed at that and taken the keys with a sincere thanks.