Page 45 of Ever After All

He rolled his eyes. “I walked real slow, and I got my cane.” He tapped it on the floor before propping it against the wall where the edge of the counter met it. “Enough about that. How are you doing?”

I crossed over to the coffee pot. “Fine. Would you like some coffee?”

“Already had some this morning. Why don’t you give your husband a call? I’m sure he might like some.”

It felt as if he’d just dragged a knife over the surface of my heart. It was sore and throbbing. It was the kind of pain that made you wince if you thought about it. I needed to button myself back up, and guard myself against being stupid again.

“Dad, I’ll talk to Wyatt when I’m ready.”

“Have you talked to your brother?”

As if my father had conjured my little brother, there was another sharp knock on my door, and Brent’s voice immediately followed. “I know you’re in there with Dad, Rosie. Can I come in?”

I gave my dad a sideways glare as I called out, “Come on in!”

Brent walked in, his eyes bouncing from our father to me and back again. “What’s going on? Are we having coffee, and I didn’t get an invite?”

I gestured to the empty stool at the counter. Brent walked over with his long, rangy stride. He’d always been such a skinny kid, and he still was. Maybe someday he’d fill out a little, but I wasn’t too sure about that.

“Have you talked to Wyatt?” Brent asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I see we’re wasting no time with polite conversation. You could start with the weather,” I pointed out, unable to keep the sharpness and hurt out of my tone.

Brent didn’t even address that comment. “Wyatt wanted to tell you right off, but I asked him to give me a chance to tell you first.” My brother rested his elbows on the counter, dropping his head down as he ran both hands through his hair before straightening and flattening his palms on the table. “Rosie, you are one of the most important people in my life. I know you’re not my mother, but you kind of are to me.” He glanced quickly at our father. “I know you did your best to make sure it didn’t feel like that, but she’s eight years older than me. Mom died the day after I was born. I think sometimes life is messy. You didn’t ask her to be like a mom to me, but it was just a situation.”

It was all I could do not to burst into tears. “Brent, you don’t have to explain. You didn’t even have to tell me you went to rehab.”

“But I want to explain. I want to tell you. College was a shit show for me. My grades weren’t good, and it was just hard for me. I got in with the wrong crowd. I was having a little too much fun, and that was plain stupid. I got hooked on painkillers. Those things are like freaking candy on college campuses.” He paused, closing his eyes as he let out a weary sigh.

“I know they are,” I said softly. “They’re wildly addictive. Those pharmaceutical companies should burn in hell for lying and insisting they weren’t addictive before it was too late. They’re everywhere now. Trust me, I work at the hospital. I know how bad it is.” My cheeks puffed out with a deep sigh. “Brent…” I began.

My brother looked up, holding my gaze. I realized I’d almost launched into telling him how much I worried about him and all of those things. Yet he had gone to rehab. He had done the hard part, and he was still doing it. “I’m sorry I made it hard to tell me,” I finally said.

“You didn’t. I just didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want to disappoint you. I wasn’t worried that you would judge me. Never.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. If you’re worried about Dad keeping the secret from you, I only told him last week too. After I ran into Wyatt coming out of the NA meeting, I figured I needed to be open with everyone.”

My eyes stung, but I managed not to cry. My chest felt so tight, and I was constantly worried, worried, worried.

My dad leaned over, curling his arm around my shoulders. “Rosie girl, I know you worry a lot. Your brother’s got this. He has to do this himself.”

“I know,” I whispered.

My brother rounded the counter to pull me into a big hug. He was a good hugger. A funny moment flashed through my mind. When he was a toddler, he used to run straight for me and fling his arms around my legs. He was now a good foot taller than me and holding me strong and sure.

When he stepped back, I could see the tears glistening in his eyes. “I love you, sis.”

“I love you too.” I took a slow breath. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“It’s okay to cry.”

A few tears rolled down my cheeks. I blew my nose with a napkin. I leaned back before I took a gulp of my coffee.

“About Wyatt,” my brother began.

“I’ll talk to him. I will,” I insisted.

---