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He glared at his brother. “Hey, it’s not my fault that she had nowhere else to go.”
“But it is your fault to have her working for you.”
“We’re friends, Austin.”
“Can you actually be friends with her? Have you ever truly only been friends with her?”
Archer rolled his jaw.
“I watched you obsess over Tea my whole life. Friends don’t stare out the window of the cabin during dinner, watching someone read and drink tea. Friends don’t make sure they always sit next to each other at the bonfire, or send those damn cards—”
“And what, you were so much better with Riley?”
“Dude, I’ve always been obsessed with Riley. You’re proving my point.”
Archer turned away from his brother, staring right into the sun. He removed his flat brim and scratched his head.
“Still haven’t lost your hair, huh?” Austin asked.
“Still bald as fuck, huh?”
Austin grinned as he lifted his fraying tucker cap. “Bald as fuck and very sunburnt.”
Archer shook his head.
“Dude.” Austin placed his beer on the lawn, then gripped Archer’s shoulders. “I love you like a brother.”
“I am your brother, fuckface.”
Austin tapped Archer’s cheek hard, enough that it could be defined as a slap. Archer let it slide—he would get him back later. “I say that because I love you like a friend and a brother, and I really don’t want to watch you fall apart again. It was scary.”
“I won’t, we’re just—”
The lift of his brow silenced Archer, draining the fight from him.
“Promise me something,” Austin replied roughly.
He squinted his eyes.
“Promise me that when things go down—”
“If they go down—”
“Don’t fucking play me, I’m not blind.”
Archer swallowed.
“Promise me when things go down, you’ll actually take care of yourself. Put yourself first.”
“What does that mean?”
Austin dropped his hands then scratched his beard, which covered a lot more of his face compared to the last time Archer saw him at Christmas. “It means that you’ll stand up for yourself and what you want. Don’t give up on the dream.”
Clench. Unclench. “The dream.”
“You know, opening up your own cocktail spot in Minneapolis, maybe starting a cocktail school, expanding to a few more locations in the city—”
He gave his brother the glare of death. “I didn’t forget my own dream.”
