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“You taught me how to fight,” he murmurs.
I did that too, yes.
When I found out that he was not only being picked on at school but also at his own home, by his own father, I taught him a few moves.
“And you taught me how to play soccer,” I reply.
His mouth splits into a tiny smile. “Because you fucking sucked at it.”
“Only because it’s a sucky game.”
I don’t like soccer.
I never did.
In fact I hate the sport because I was forced into it. It’s something all Davidsons are into. Needless to say, my brother was a star.
A natural, according to my dad.
And I was a natural fucking disaster.
Lucas fixed that however.
In exchange for saving his ass, he promised to teach me soccer — something he played to escape his home life. And over time, I got good at it. I got fucking excellent at it. So much so that I won a soccer scholarship to go to college.
Lucas also fixed my pissed-off attitude, or rather compensated for it with his own charming one. And in turn, I fixed his problem of always getting friend-zoned by the girls.
Long story short, we’ve been inseparable since we were eight years old.
Well, until now.
“I’d never had a friend before you. You were my first friend. My only friend.” Then, finally turning to look at me, “My brother.”
It’s getting harder and harder to breathe now. To stand and not go to my knees, fall under the pressure in my chest, the burden on my shoulders.
But he deserves it.
He deserves me standing here, giving him the courtesy to look him in the eyes like a man.
“You were my motherfuckingbrother, Reign,” he growls, taking a step toward me. “Until you ruined it. Until you fucking destroyed everything. Every fucking thing that I cared about.”
I stay silent.
Because he’s right.
I did destroy everything that he cared about. His happiness. His dreams. His love. His fucking life. And if I don’t find some way to stop what he’s been doing, he might even lose his life-long goal of becoming a pro soccer player. It’s testament to how good of a soccer player he is that even though he drinks himself half to death every night, he still shows up for practice and manages to kick ass. Or rather, it’s a testament of how much he hates me that he shows up to practice to kickmyass specifically. And I let him because yes, he deserves all the chances to annihilate me.
So there’s nothing for me to say or do except take it.
Take whatever he wants to dish out.
“You know what I saw when I looked at her tonight?” he asks, taking another step toward me. “I sawyou. I saw your hands on her. Your fucking mouth on her. Like it was, that night. Every time I think about her, I think about you. About your betrayal. About the fact that the person I trusted the most in this world screwed me over. You fucking screwed me over, Reign. And apparently, you’ve been doing it for years.” He clenches his jaw. “That’s what you told me, didn’t you? When I asked you why. When I fucking asked why the fuck would you kiss my girl, you told me that you’d wanted to kiss her for a long time. That you’d wantedherall the while she was mine.”
I did.
I did tell him that when he asked me.
I could’ve lied.
