Page 132 of Interference

Jon blinked.

“Not being able to come down here and help has been killing me,” I whispered unsteadily. “One of my biggest fears the last few months is that I wouldn’t be able to see Dad again before he—” My voice caught, and I cleared my throat. “But I would rather live with that regret than be the reason Mom breaks.”

“So you…” Jon had never looked that utterly shocked and horrified. “You thought you’d be a burden?”

“I would’ve been.” I gestured at the house. “They can barely pay their own bills. The stress is killing both of them faster than the cancer is killing Dad.” Spreading my arms, I asked, “In what universe would I not be a burden for adding to that?”

“You’re family, Wyatt!” He blew out a breath. “Jesus Christ. I mean…” He flailed a hand toward our parents. “Do you think Dad’s a burden? For having cancer?”

“Of course not!”

He inclined his head, giving me a “now do the math, dumbass” look.

I looked away, working my jaw as I kept petting Lily to stay calm. “That’s different.”

“How?” Jon demanded, but he didn’t give me a chance to answer. “Fucking hell, dude. You’re part of the family. We care about you. It isn’t like you decided to rob a bank. You got fucked over by the military and ended up on the—God, Wyatt.” He made a pained sound and pressed back against the seat. “I’ve been pissed at you for months because I thought you didn’t care enough to help us all deal with this, but you…” Raking a hand through his hair, he exhaled, and when he spoke again, his voice cracked. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you let us help you, you absolute dumbass?”

I didn’t have an answer for that. More shame piled on what was already there. More guilt. A huge helping of grief for all the time I’d lost with the family I’d been trying to protect from myself.

“Jesus fuck.” Jon pushed himself to his feet, and for a second, I thought he was going to storm into the house and announce what an absolute trash fire I was. Instead, though, he stopped in front of me and said, “Get up.”

I glanced up at him, finding every emotion imaginable on my brother’s face. I gently nudged Lily down, and then I rose.

And somehow, I wasn’t at all prepared when he pulled me into the tightest, fiercest hug he ever had.

Last night, I’d sagged against Anthony and let quiet relief rush over me.

This time, I fucking broke.

I was pretty sure the last time my brother had seen me cry was at our grandma’s funeral when I was eleven and he was fifteen. He definitely saw it now, and he held me so tight I could barely breathe.

Through my tears, I managed, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare be sorry,” he growled shakily. “I’m sorry any of us ever let you think you could be a burden on us.”

“I just didn’t want—”

“And we don’t want you sleeping in a goddamned box, Wyatt.” He loosened his embrace a little but didn’t let me go. “Would you have stayed away if you had cancer too?”

“What?” I pulled back. “No. Of course not.”

“Right. So why the hell did you think you needed to stay away this time?”

“This isn’t cancer, Jon. It’s me being broke and homeless and—”

“And royally fucked over by the military.” He shook his head. “Even if you hadn’t been—even if you’d made some really dumb decisions and landed on the street because you were a reckless idiot, do you really think this family would turn our backs on you? Jesus Christ.” He reeled me back in, and his voice came out thick as he ground out, “We love you, Wyatt. You don’t get to stay out in the cold by yourself just because there’s other shit happening. You got that?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

It had been a long, long time since I’d felt this much like his little brother. Since I’d felt like the kid being protected on the bus or the playground. That was a surprisingly welcome feeling this time; not like he was talking down to me or treating me like a child, but that he was—and always would be—my big brother. He’d once been suspended for punching a kid who’d bullied me and telling the principal, “And I’d do it again.”

All these years later, I was a soldier who’d been inches from literal hell, surviving warzones and the streets, but God help me—few things had ever been more welcome than my brother hugging me the way he had the first time I’d fallen off a bike. I hadn’t realized how much I still needed the high school senior who’d put the fear of God into the sophomore who’d threatened freshman me for bringing a boy to homecoming.

I hadn’t known how badly I’d needed to be the little brother and the son who didn’t hesitate to come to his family for help.

Eventually, Jon let me go. As I sat back down, I wiped my eyes with a shaking hand. “I should, um… I should probably stay out here for a few minutes. If I go back in there looking like this, Mom is going to freak out.”

“Yeah.” He swiped at his own eyes. “Tell me about it.”

---