“The truth is,” I tell him, “it’s as much Zoë’s fault as his, if not more. And I can’t kill her. Justin loves her too much. So I just have to fucking suck it up.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know how much you love that kid.”

“Rachel says—” I grimace, but it needs to be said, and she was the one who said it. “Rachel says I shouldn’t let the fact that he’s not mine keep me from having a relationship with him.”

“Rachel’s wise. How’s she doing?”

“I don’t know,” I confess.

“You haven’t reached out to her at all?”

I shake my head.

“Because of Connor?”

“Because of… me.”

“You, um, want to tell me what happened?”

I do. Gabe listens, and to his ever-loving credit, says absolutely nothing until I’m done. Then he says, “A walk on the Wilder side, huh?” He’s smirking. “Can’t believe I never thought of that one.”

I wince.

“I mean, there are worse things she could say about you.”

“It just hurt. I get so tired of being the resident bad boy,” I say. “Women who want to lick my tattoos and ride on my bike and get fucked against a brick wall.”

“Doesn’t sound all that bad to me,” Gabe says wryly.

“Easy for you to say. You’re the guy everyone wants. The one who’s stalwart in a crisis. The family man. The son a man asks to take care of the business and his family.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to take them back. Because Gabe’s no dummy.

He crosses his arms. “This is about Dad.”

I shake my head, but I’m not fooling anyone.

“Jesus, Brody. I had no idea. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“What was I going to say? Daddy didn’t leave me in charge! Waaah! Waaah! Of course he didn’t fucking leave me in charge. I was a screwup.”

“No.” There’s something in Gabe’s expression. A kind of wonder. “You were a fourteen-year-old boy. And it didn’t even fucking cross my mind that you’d feel like you’d been shut out.” His eyes rake over my face, and it occurs to me that one of the things I hate most about Gabe is that he can see right through me.

I reach for the whiskey and he hands it over. I don’t slug it, though. I just hold the bottle. It’s helpful to have something to grip.

I take a deep breath. “I was only a year younger than you.”

He nods.

“But Dad never said anything to me about helping out or taking care of anyone. I could see you struggling after he died and when Mom was sick but when I asked if I could help, you said I’d screw it up.”