My gut churns. Brothers leaves me, crossing to Holly. She doesn’t move, frozen to her chair, and he rests his elbows on the back of it, hands on her shoulders.
“There’s one last test of loyalty,” he says. “Take that Ruger and put a bullet in her.”
The low whine in the back of my mind erupts into an explosion. The world shatters. He puts it in my hand, and the subtle shift in weight tells me there’s a single bullet in the chamber. I go from looking at him like the father I never had to recoiling in pure disgust.
“What?” I breathe.
His eyes glint. Holly is frozen, eyes huge. Brothers has her by the shoulders, keeping her pinned to the chair.
“Go on,” he says. “I require loyalty, Jen. Undying loyalty. You follow my orders, you trust me, or we can’t do this together.”
“Fuck no,” I snap.
He straightens, fire roaring in his face. “Then walk, Jen. Get out of my house.”
No, this isn’t right.
He’s supposed to be the man who stepped in, who stepped up. He fixed my truck with me. He took me in when I had nothing. He sat in that diner and promised me I could tell him anything. In his place is a man I don’t recognize, one who’s holding the bond I valued so deeply above my head, telling me to jump for it. A master manipulator.
I’d hoped that love was free. Turns out, it costs my soul.
I’m done, really done this time.
“Fuck you,” I whisper, tossing the gun onto the table.
NOW
I snap back to the present. He’s standing inches from me, the same man, just a few more lines on his face. The rest is falling into place. We fought, I remember throwing something at him. He told me we’d discuss things in the morning. I said I was going to finish a job and I left, but not before taking the bourbon off the table and walking out.
I can’t speak.
He flicks the inside of his cheek with his tongue.
“I take it you remember now,” he says finally.
All those years, and the truth is still worse than I imagined. The utter cruelty of it leaves me breathless. He takes a step closer. He’s struggling, eyes flickering back and forth, jaw tensing.
“There was no bullet, Jen,” he says, barely audible.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “There was no bullet.”
“I felt the weight of it.”
“Weighted gun,” he murmurs, not looking at me. “You had to believe it.”
That’s less horrifying for Holly, but somehow crueler to past Jensen. A whistle splits through the crowd, and I reel back. The referee from the Caudill side is in the pit. At the edge looms Leland, standing while they tape his hands. The crowd starts chanting, urging me to get in the ring. It’s time.
I turn back to Brothers.
When I look at him, I don’t want to hurt him.
No hate.
No anger.
Just deep sadness for the man I could have been.
