“Henry, we’re in the living room,” came his reply.
I froze mid-step.We?My gut tightened. Please don’t let it be another GP visit.
But when I walked in, it wasn’t a doctor.
“Ben?”
My tone came out sharper than I intended. My brother looked up from the armchair, smirking.
“Hello to you too,” he said, as smug as ever.
“What are you doing here?”
“Seeing Dad, obviously.” He laughed, looking between us, waiting for Dad to join in. The silence stretched. Dad gave me that pleading look —please, Henry, behave.
I swallowed the instinct to bite back. “Yeah, of course. Sorry, just wasn’t expecting you. How’ve you been?”
“Good. Picked up a few new clients.” He leaned back like the king of his own universe. “Was just telling Dad I’m looking for new agents.”
“That’s great,” I said, meaning it — mostly because Dad’s face lit up.
Ben’s been running his security company for a few years now. I helped him get it off the ground, loaned him money, tried to build a bridge that never really took. He paid me back eventually, but whatever existed between us stayed… strained. We’d never figured out how to stop being rivals.
“Thanks,” he said, and the room went quiet.
Dad nudged him. Subtle. But I saw it.
“Oh yeah,” Ben said finally, “congrats on the awards. Dad said it was a big deal.”
“Thanks,” I said flatly. “It was a good night.”
Silence again. I’m usually fine with silence — hell, I’m an expert at it — but this was suffocating.
I stood abruptly. “Tea, anyone?”
In the kitchen, I busied myself with mugs and the kettle, trying to shake the tension.
Dad’s voice followed me in. “Oat milk, remember.”
I laughed. “Yes, Dad. Oat milk, not dairy. Got it.”
Ben made a face. “Oat milk? What the hell are you drinking oat milk for?”
“Because Henry’sbeautiful ladygave me a list of diet changes to help with my MS,” Dad said, grinning.
I nearly dropped the spoon. “Wait— what? You said that came from your MS nurse!”
Dad just smirked. “She thought you might get defensive if you knew she’d done the research herself.”
Of course she did. That woman and her bloody selflessness.
Ben sipped his tea. “And cutting out dairy’s on the list? That’s a no from me.”
“Lucky you don’t have MS then,” I muttered, deadpan. He didn’t respond, just shifted in his chair.
“So,” Ben said eventually, “who’s thisbeautiful lady? Henry doesn’t do girlfriends.”
I froze mid-sip. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
