And for the longest time, I didn’t know that I wanted to.

Too much history.

Too much animosity.

And yet . . . he keeps knocking.

Fuck. What am I supposed to do with that knowledge?

“I’ve always felt like this was my fault,” he says quietly.

My jaw tightens as his words slap me. “Yep. I’m the screwed-up brother because you were the perfect one. No wonder he picked you over me. Got it.” I start to stand and he yanks me back down to sit.

Can’t say I’m too thrilled with that.

“No, you’re not hearing me.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “This is why I became a lawyer. Because of you.”

“Sure you did. Used Daddy’s money to put you through college while I was busy busking on corners to get enough money to buy Mom her meds.”

Sadness fills his eyes and I hate that I want to believe it. This. That he understands an iota of the pain I went through.

I don’t think anyone ever could though.

“To fight for people who didn’t have a voice.”

I start to reply, but he holds up a hand. “No. Quit being a sarcastic fuck and let me finish, will you?” His voice is rough, honest in a way I don’t expect. It begs me to listen when otherwise I’d already be walking away. “I didn’t speak up that day, Jase. I didn’t fight for you like I should have. Like you did for me. I was so worried about having to stay and take care of Mom that I didn’t say a damn word and left you to deal with it all yourself.”

It’s hard to hear those words and believe them.

“Easy to say from your end of the deal, right?”

“Yeah. You’re right. It is. But Dad wasn’t all sunshine and fucking roses. He was a heavy-handed disciplinarian and a cold son of a bitch. So I got the clothes and the food and the education, but until I had kids of my own, I didn’t realize how much he didn’t provide. And I sure as shit didn’t understand how much you could have ever suffered.”

“They’re just words, Nate.”

“You’re right. They are. But having kids makes you see things differently. The world changes and for the life of me, I can’t understand how the fuck Dad did that to you. How he left you to pick up a mess that was his responsibility.”

“And yet you went to visit him weeks ago.”

“I went. You’re right. Just me. Because it was my turn to finally confront him. It was my turn to explain to him the lives he ruined and the people he hurt and you . . . God, how you deserved better by him.”