“It was me. I heard them. They were fighting about me the night Mom left.” I force the words out through the lump in my throat. “I fucked things up for the family back then and I’m scared I’ll fuck them up now. That I’ll ruin Prince Bourbon and if I push Katie, I’ll ruin things with her too.”
Aiden is gazing steadily at me, his face unreadable. “I hate—” He shoves off the floor, breathing hard. “I hate that you feel this way. I wou-would do anything to protect you, Tristan.” He drags a hand over his face, his shoulders slumping. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was partly me.”
He shakes his head. “It was partly all of us. Mom di-didn’t want to have kids. Not really. And Dad was absent, and fu-fuck, I tried.” He slams a fist down on one of the barrels, curling over it. “I tried so hard to keep their problems from you and the twins. And I failed.”
I’m standing now too, approaching him warily.
“You’ve given everything to us, Aiden. We never blamed you. I blamed myself.”
“You were a child,” he bites out. “They sent you away. They nev-never should have done that. I tried—” He inhales, long and slow, trying to quell the stutter. “I tried to go in your place.”
My mouth drops open. “But I was at my worst back then. You would have been sent away for me. I was a shithead.”
“Of course I would have.”
I stare at him. My heart is a wild animal inside my chest.
“I always thought you resented me for it. Not a lot. Just—deep down.” My voice is thick.
“Never,” he says. “And I don’t resent you now.”
“You don’t?”
“God, Tristan.” He pulls me into a hug before he releases me, only to keep a hand on my shoulder. “Love isn’t conditional. Not for any of us. Being your older brother has been the greatest privilege of my life. I see so much in you. So much potential. If only you believed in yourself the way I do.”
There’s pressure behind my eyes that threatens to spill over. I take a long, shuddering breath. “You think she’ll want me, then?”
He gives me a choked laugh. “Yeah, Tris, I think she’ll want you. But I also think sometimes, you have to take a risk without knowing if you’ll succeed. You can plan all you want, but there’s no way to know for sure. Love isn’t like that.”
I take a seat and stare into the cool dark of the stillhouse, my brother by my side. I feel cleansed. Whole.
For the first time ever, enough.
55
KATIE
I’m with the girls the next day for our fifth session, and Tristan isn’t there. It’s a good thing, because he’d distract me more than I already am.
Emory is, though, and the glances she keeps shooting me make me think she knows something is up. Even the girls sense something is wrong. Malika ups her antics, teasing me until I finally laugh and tell her to shape up or ship out.
We’re practicing the same eye-gouging move I demonstrated on the first day with Tristan when the double doors open and a few adults slip in. Four women who elicit screeches from four of the girls.
“Mom, look,” Malika shouts before she wails on the bag. “I learned how to punch.”
Her mother’s warm, appreciative gaze makes me look away, my stomach pinching. “And here I thought you were studying math.”
Emory laughs. “Hey, Sofia. No, we’re punching today. Katie’s our instructor.”
“Nice to meet you. Your daughters are learning fast.”
“That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about.” Sofia gestures for the other women to join her. “Our daughters have been talking about how much they love your classes.”
I give her a confused smile. “Oh, they aren’t classes. It’s just informal training. I’ve been doing it for years.”
“Well, Malika can’t stop talking about it.”
