“A fucking glass of whiskey. One ice cube. Think you can do that for me, big bro?”
He glowers back. “You want a glass of whiskey? Why don’t I just push you in the front of a fucking freight train? It’s about the same.”
I stand up and let out a short laugh. “Do you even know what this feels like?” I extend my arms, my eyes on fire like I’m halfway between crying and rage. “I feel like I’m going out of my goddamn mind, Ryke. Tell me what I should do? Huh? Nothing takes this pain away, not running, not fucking the girl I love, not anything.”
I wish to God that I could find an easy out. An easy fix.
Anything except alcohol. I’d take it in a heartbeat. But there’s nothing that I can do except deal with this shit. Try and move on, to let go. It’s just taking a lot longer than I ever thought it would.
“You relapsed a few times,” he says. “But you can get back to where you were.”
I shake my head, a knee-jerk reaction.
“So what? You’re going to drink a beer? You’re going to chug a bottle of whiskey? Then what?” he continues, eyes flashing hot. “You’ll ruin your relationship with Lily. You’ll feel like shit in the morning. You’ll wish you were fucking dead—”
“What do you think I’m wishing now?!” I scream, pointing a finger at the fucking ground. “I hate myself for breaking my sobriety. I hate that I’m at this place in my life again.” I wish I could take back the day I broke my sobriety a million times over. I wish I never answered that phone call. I wish I walked back upstairs and crawled in bed. I wish I held Lily and just disappeared from the world with her.
I wish.
I wish.
I wish. And nothing ever comes true.
His face falls and he raises his hand like calm down. “You were under a lot of scrutiny.”
“You’re under the same scrutiny,” I retort. The media asks him for a statement about the allegations almost every day. “And I didn’t see you breaking your sobriety.” My brother—unbreakable, unbendable like the rocks he climbs. Nothing can topple him.
The jealousy and resentment tastes horrible.
“It’s different,” Ryke says, his voice less hostile and aggressive. “The media was saying some pretty awful shit, Lo. You coped the first way you knew how. No one blames you. We just want to fucking help you.”
Sweat collects on the back of my neck. It’s not from running down the street. “You don’t believe them, do you?” I ask. I can see the answer in his eyes, almost every time we talk about the molestation rumors.
“Who?” he asks.
“The news, all those reporters…you don’t think that our dad actually did those things to me?” Say no. Just say no. I need him to believe me.
He looks physically pained, his answer so clear.
“It’s not fucking true!” I shout. Why can’t my own brother believe me? I’ve known him for three years now. Three years. That should count for something.
“Okay, okay.” He raises his hands again. “You just have to move fucking forward. Don’t worry about what people think.”
I internally laugh, one full of agitation. Don’t worry about what people think. I inhale deeply and stare at the sky with the darkest glare I have. “You say shit, Ryke, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Do you know how annoying that is?” I turn my head, meeting his eyes.
“I’ll keep saying it then, just to irritate the fuck out of you.”
I let out another deep breath. Okay.
He rubs the back of my head and nods towards my house down the street. I follow him for a few paces, and I see the way his muscles cut in defined lines—reminding me that he’s an athlete. A different kind. He might not have a nine-to-five job, but he has goals.
Goals that he’s put on hold to be there for me. I don’t want anyone to pause their life because I had to slam on the brakes for mine.
I stop in the middle of the quiet road, morning. No cameras.
It’s the best time to run. I lick my lips. “About your trip to California…I know I haven’t asked about it in months. I’ve been too self-absorbed—”
“Don’t worry about it.” He gestures with his head to the house. “Let’s go make some breakfast for the girls.”
“Wait. I have to say this.” I swallow hard. “I need you to go.” He tries to cut me off, but I barrel ahead. “I can already hear your stupid fucking rebuttal. And I’m telling you to go. Climb your mountains. Do whatever you need to do. You’ve had this planned for a long time, and I’m not going to ruin it for you.”