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“Yep,” I reply, wanting to turn the conversation back toward him, but then I realize something.
Abby.
I quickly pull out my phone, the picture of her on the lock screen. When I point it toward Isaac, his lips part as his eyes gaze at the smiling little girl on the screen. It’s an old picture. Abby was only about three, with a big cheesy grin. I think we took it on Easter when Briar put her in a flowery pink dress and placed her in a big flowerpot in our front yard.
“Oh my god,” Isaac whispers.
“Her name is Abby. She’s almost seven now. Hang on. Let me find some more pics.”
My phone is full of photos and I must scroll through a hundred of them, showing Isaac. He devours each one, smiling from ear to ear as I tell him all about her.
“Caleb, she’s incredible,” he mumbles. “I can’t believe you have a kid.”
As I put my phone back in my pocket, I don’t point out that I’m thirty-three now and I’ve been married for ten years. Having a kid isn’t all that surprising for guys like me, but for Isaac, I’m still twenty-three, just out of college, and newly married. That’s where I was in my life before he left.
Couple years later, Briar was pregnant.
Things grow silent between us for a moment. I wonder if he’s curious about the rest of the family. Does he want to know how things are with Mom or Dad? Does he know about what Adam has been through this year? Is he curious about Luke?
Or is all of that too heavy? This is just a casual beer. It’s not the time to get into all the family drama and face the hard truth that nearly a decade has gone by since I’ve spoken with my brother.
He picks at the label of his beer when I finally decide to face the elephant head-on.
“I nearly messaged you so many times.”
He looks up and stares into my eyes. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because I felt bad for even knowing your secret,” I reply. “And I don’t want to mess up everything you have going for yourself, Isaac.”
He flinches at the use of that name. Does no one in his business even know the real him?
“I understand,” he replies sadly. “And I appreciate that.”
“But fuck,” I say in a low grumble. “I’ve missed you so much.”
His head snaps up as he stares in shock. “You have?”
“Of course, Isaac,” I reply in an urgent whisper. “I hate myself for not protecting you that night. I should have defended you?—”
“I don’t want to talk about that,” he snaps, closing his lips tightly.
I freeze, letting the words hang there. I don’t know if he’s referring to that night or our father or coming out.
But it doesn’t matter. I said this night was going to be about him, not me or our past. So I quickly drop it.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Of course. We don’t have to talk about any of that. I just want to hear about you. Tell me everything.”
He takes a drink, looking uncomfortable as he shrugs. “There’s not much to tell. But I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell everyone…”
“Of course,” I reply confidently. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Thanks.”
Then, with a pause, I add, “I can tell Briar, right?”
“For sure,” Isaac replies with a shrug.
My jaw clenches before quickly throwing in, “And Dean?”
