He turns just enough to show his profile, jaw clenched like he's fighting back venom. I search for traces of my little brother in that hardened face—the kid who used to climb into my bed during thunderstorms, who wore my old football jersey’s like badges of honor.

"What's there to talk about?" His words slice through the space between us.

I close the distance between us, shoving my hands deep in my pockets. There's nothing but ice in his tone where warmth used to live.

"A lot, actually."

A bitter laugh tears from his throat. "Fine. Let's talk, Nate."

The way he spits my name—the same name he once shouted across football fields with pride, the name he'd call when nightmares woke him—makes it clear this conversation is already derailed, but I have to try. I settle beside him, hoping the calm water might steady us both. The proximity is physically close but emotionally distant, like sitting next to a stranger wearing my brother's face.

I need to tell him about Nora, about these feelings I've been suffocating. I know my little brother better than he thinks. I've seen the way he looks at her, even if he hasn't figured it out himself yet. And it's killing me that the person I would have once trusted with every secret is now the one person I can't confide in about the heaviest thing on my heart.

"Look, I'm sorry about everything that's happened lately⁠⁠—"

"Fuck your sorry." Jake whips around, face contorted with a rage that feels too familiar, too much like our father's. "My entire fucking life, I've lived in your shadow. At school, at home, everywhere I went, I was just 'Nate's little brother'. Then you go and fuck up your life, and somehow I'm left scrubbing clean the mess you made of our family name."

Anger pulses hot in my veins. I dig my nails into my palms until the pain numbs the anger in me, anything to keep from saying something I can't take back. Jake springs to his feet, pacing like a caged animal, like he's got poison he needs to spit out.

Go ahead.

I can take it.

I'm the one who always takes the hits—verbal, physical.

They all leave the same scars now.

"And the one goddamn time I finally feel like I'm finding my feet, when everything's finally falling into place, you show up and wreck it all. Like you always do."

His words slice straight for the throat, but I force myself to stay calm.

"Jake, that's not what this is about⁠⁠—"

"Isn't it?" He spins to face me, and the hatred in his eyes hits harder than any physical blow. "I'm done cleaning up after you, done with your self-destructive bullshit. You're nothing but a selfish prick who⁠⁠—"

I'm on my feet before I register moving, going toe-to-toe with him. His venom catches me off guard, but the fury in my voice makes him flinch.