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“Marcus, what is this all about?” Mom asks, but when Mortie slowly moves to stand, a hush falls over the room.
“He’s done covering for me,” he translates, reading me as easily as he had when we were kids.
I give a single nod, and our parents frantically glance between us.
“Now, wait a minute,” Dad warns.
I look to our parents, who have been through hell and back since losing Leah, and sympathize with what they thought was right for us, even if it didn’t end well. But even they have to own up to their part in all of this.
“He’s right. All we’re doing is hurting him in the long run when what we should be doing is finding a solution.”
I feel as though I’m staring at my reflection, and not because we’re identical but because my brother’s appearance projects how I’ve felt inside for so long.
Miserable. Lost. Unhappy.
“I’ve started the process of getting dual citizenship so I can move to Augustine, and until it’s approved, I want you to come back with me and go to rehab for real,” I say to Mortie.
This house serves its purpose, but my true home is on the island with my second family, and my mind has been made up since my flight back to Seattle.
I want a chance for us to rebuild our relationship. I want to bring him back to the peace of the island, and then maybe, hopefully, he’ll come out on the other side a changed man.
“Selling the bracelet will get Mom and Dad out of debt, but coming to Topica Bay will ensure you stay clean. You’ll be happier, healthier, and when the time comes, you’ll be ready to take on your movie role without the constant fear of relapsing.”
Mortie’s silent for so long, I’m sure he’s going to fight me on it.
“I’ve always looked up to you, you know. The rock, the levelheaded one, thefavorite,” he digs lightly.
“Bullshit,” I mutter, earning a glare from Mom.
“But Leah and I were cut from the same cloth—her modeling, my acting. We knew what kind of life we signed up for. That the possibility of having a real family or falling in love may never be in the cards for us, but it always would be for you.”
With a weak shake of his head, he glances out the window. “So yeah, losing her was traumatic for all of us, but I never got the break I needed to grieve her death. I had an image to uphold, a career that was finally taking off, and one day, I woke up to find that I’d become a monster. One who never tires of the fix and has a limitless appetite for chaos. One who envies your perfectly normal life, and the genuine connections you get to have with people.”
I think of every conversation I had with Heather as the famous Marcus Matthews, and all the times I’d told her something similar. How I felt alone. How I missed true intimacy and human connection so badly. And though I’d been speaking for myself, it turns out, most of it was true for Mortie, too.
“I never wanted you to cover for me, but I also know I wouldn’t have stayed in rehab to begin with.” The resentment and anger I’ve kept on tap for him for the last few years dissipates the moment he turns back to me. “I may never make up for all the times you’ve had to step up for me, but I’m thankful you did.”
Mom holds a hand over her mouth with watery eyes, and Dad wraps his arm around her. “We all have something to answer for here, son. I’ve clearly pushed you both too hard, demanded too much.”
“We can go around the room taking blame and saying we’re sorry all we want, but apologies aren’t what’s going to fix this.” Mortie pulls his shoulders back before holding out a hand between us. “So I’ll go with you, Marcus. Because I love you, and this family, and because I want to prove to you guys that I mean it when I say I’m done. I want to try and put this shit behind me, behind us, and move on.”
I clasp his palm and pull him into me. My free hand grips the back of his shirt, holding him as I struggle to control my emotions, and he embraces me just as tightly.
“I’ll set up a meeting and come clean about everything to Gregorio,” he says when we finally break apart. “But we should probably prepare ourselves for him to shitcan me the second that story goes live.”
I feel the start of a smirk. “And if he does, I guess you get to look for your next big break after spending some time with your brother and our annoying cousin in paradise.”
The barest hint of humor finds his gaze.
“Dad?” I ask, needing the final stamp of approval to get our plan into motion.
“We’ll have to discuss the details, of course, but it’s not a half-bad idea.” He stands to place one hand on each of our shoulders, but to me, lips thinning to conceal his own warring emotions, he says, “Thank you, son.”
Mom finds her way between us, and for the first time in too long, the four of us bring it in, and I relish this sense of peace and love I’ve been longing for. The healing we’re going to achieve together.
Finally, my soul shudders. Only, it’s not my voice I hear but Leah’s.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
