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“Let’s go home, B.”
B. The name he always used when he was really little, because Brady came out like Bwady.
And then he offers me his hand. Moisture pools in my eyes, and I try to blink it back as I take his hand and let him help me up. His face is lined with worry while he searches my face, maybe seeing for the first time how fucked up I really am.
I’m not the big brother he used to idolize.
I wish I was.
“Hey. What’s wrong?”
Swallowing, I shake my head and pinch my eyes closed. “Just a rough therapy session.”
He doesn’t respond to that. I expect him to drop my hand, but suddenly, he pulls me into a hug. The little brother comforting the big one. It’s so fucked. So at odds with what Mom intended. I break down in his arms.
“Fuck, Brady.” He holds me a little tighter. “You’re scaring me, man. Talk to me.”
It takes a minute for me to pull it together, and when I do, I step back and stare at him. He’s an adult. Not the little kid I rescued. He can make his own decisions. He can take control of his own life.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for...everything, Dylan. I’ve done just about everything wrong.”
He frowns.
“I understand if you don’t want to stick with law school. Mom asked me to protect you guys, and I had it in my head that if you got a good job that could pay for whatever you wanted, things would be okay. I pushed Quinn away because I was scared of how the world would react. I broke our pack before it even formed.”
“You haven’t done everything wrong, B. You introduced me to fighting. You kept my head on straight when I could have goneoff the deep end. Do I hate some of the ways you try to control me? Yeah. But even I can admit, most of the time, you were right to be pissed at me. I did some stupid shit.”
I shake my head. “You were a kid.”
“One who was ready to chase whatever adrenaline rush he could find to fill that emptiness inside of me. I know you don’t approve of the fighting, but it’s what I’m meant to do, Brady.”
“I know.” I squeeze his shoulder. “You’re a damn good fighter.”
He grins, and for a minute, the seven-year-old version of him stands before me. “I am, aren’t I?”
“Humble too,” I say with a laugh, tipping my head back and taking another breath. “Oh, fuck, everything is all messed up.”
“Maybe, but it’s not too late to start fixing it.”
I glance at him. “When did you become so wise?”
“I know some things,” he says. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
Quinn might be home. I don’t know if I can stand more of what she’s been putting me through.
“Just talk to her like you talked to me. I don’t know if you realize how closed off you can be. She needs to see the humanity inside of you, not the overbearing alpha.”
Maybe he’s been talking to my therapist.
“All right. Let’s go.”
I climb inside the passenger seat, moving a bag full of books at my feet into the back.
“I was in class when you called.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He starts driving through the parking garage. “Pretty sure I’ll be the world’s best lawyer, as well as the world’s best fighter.”
