His dad straightened at this and set his glass on the mantle. Giving his son his full attention.
“You’ve avoided Pat and me for weeks now. Gran as well. Pardon my refusal in not giving any credence to your placations.”
Guilt flooded his body. Damn it. Once he’d run out of excuses to meet them, he’d stopped answering their calls and texts. How had he gotten here? Ahh, yes, he knew the answer to that.
Regardless of the clusterfuck his life had become— after Raven— every colorless, loveless moment of his current existence could be defined as— after Raven, there was no excuse for treating his family badly.
Taking a healthy swallow of Tullamore Dew, he stood out of respect and looked directly at his dad.
“You’re right, Dad. I’ve been a shit. My life is shit. Forgive me for how churlish and childish I’ve been.” Bran’s whole body seemed to deflate along with the words.
“I’ll call Pat and Gran tomorrow and apologize to them too.”
Still silent, his dad walked to him and took Bran’s glass right out of his hand, placing it on the table by his chair. He then pulled his son into his large frame. Hugging him tight, one broad hand palmed the back of his head, forcing him to lean his head on his father’s shoulder. Shocked at the display, Bran remained stiff for all of a minute. His dad didn’t budge.
Bran felt the heat burning through his father’s t-shirt, warming his tight muscles. Slowly, Bran put his own arms around his dad. He heard his father clear his throat. Bran’s own eyes were welling with tears.
“It has killed me, son,” he growled, “to see you hurting. I only ask that you don’t cut me out. I... that is something I cannot bear.”
Bran seemed to be hurting everyone he loved. To have upset his father to this degree... was past enough. He had to figure his shit out. “I won’t do it again, Dad.” His father had always been Bran’s safest place after his mother left them. He’d forgotten how safe.
They stayed like that for another minute before gradually separating.
Picking up his drink from the mantle, Bran downed the contents, walked over to the bar, and placed the crystal in the sink.
Before his father walked out of the study door, he spoke one last time without turning around. “I’ll let you rest tonight. I expect you at the main house by nine. James has been trying to see you as well. He said he has something important he needs to speak to you about. I’ll let him know to drive down first thing.”
“I understand. I’ll be there.” As he passed through the door, Bran stopped him. “Thank you, Dad. For... loving me.”
His father’s hand tightened on the doorframe before he moved on, but Bran heard, “Always,” before he disappeared into the dark.
Bran calledPatrick to see if he was home, in Tulsa, or out of town. He had nevernotknown where his brother was. It was just another difficult pill to swallow. Pat was at their dad’s. Good.
“Meet me in Dad’s kitchen in thirty?”
“Fine.”
Not super positive, but with Pat, Bran believed he could fix things. He made it there in twenty. Patrick was already flipping pancakes on the griddle.
Bran decided not to be a pussy and immediately owned up to his bullshit.
“Patrick.” His brother briefly glanced over his shoulder before returning his attention to the food. “Pat,” he started again. “I’ve been unbearable. I’ve been a shit brother when you’ve only ever loved me. Please, Pat, forgive me.”
Patrick removed the last three pancakes and placed them in a stack on the plate warming next to the griddle.
Leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, all casually posed, Patrick finally responded— not casually.
“What the fuck, Bran? We’re brothers. We’re best friends. You wouldn’t even see me.” Patrick’s cheeks burned scarlet with emotion, and his eyes were bright.
When someone says a person has to hit rock bottom... Reaping what one sews... devastating.
“I have no excuse, Pat. Raven... Jesus, brother, she’s destroyed me.”
“I would have understood. Idounderstand, for fuck’s sake! You still should have let me be by your side.”
“I should have. And I’ll say the same thing I told Dad last night. It won’t happen again.” He and his brother didn’t move from their counter leans. The steam from the pancakes curling between the stalemate.
“I’ve missed you, Pat. Please.”
