Nick, wearing a Carhartt hat and a pair of work boots, nodded his head once as if to say, calm the fuck down, I’m here.
“I like him already,” I whispered.
Nick –our brother– slowly approached until he was standing next to the booth.
“Nick Steffens?” I said, like I didn’t know. But the guy bristled.
“Name is Renard now. Nick Renard.”
I stretched out my hand for him to shake, but he hesitated. He was stubborn and silent. So much like my brother. A man of few words. Little did this guy know, I’d spent my life learning how to interpret Wyatt’s silences. I’d win this guy over eventually. It was my special skill.
I smiled a little harder and waited until he put his hand in mine.
Brother.
“Sit,” I said, gesturing to the side of the booth I’d just gotten out of. Nick sat and I scootched in next to my other brother, elbowing him in the side to give me room.
Nick and Wyatt shook hands and I waited for Wyatt to say something. This had been his idea, after all. I figured the guy had a script in his head.
But no. Silence.
From both of them.
Of course, our newfound brother would be more like Wyatt than me.
Awesome.
I smiled, the same smile that had been on last month’s cover of GQ. Crooked. Cocky as fuck. Easy. It was my signature move. “You a hockey fan, Nick?”
“Our mom is dead,” Wyatt said, without any hesitation or preamble.
“Jesus, Wy,” I groaned, hanging my head.
Nick sat there like the news didn’t even affect him.
“We didn’t know about you,” I jumped in to fill the void. “Until after the funeral. She left a letter.”
Nick nodded. Still silent. Wyatt… still silent.
“We hired an investigator, to find you,” I said. This was like pulling teeth. “That’s why it took so long for us to get ahold of you.”
“You grew up with your father?” Wyatt asked.
“Until I was fourteen,” Nick said.
Wyatt and I exchanged a glance. His eyes told me to shut up and let the guy tell his story and my eyes told him to say something helpful for once.
“Look, I get why maybe you thought you should contact me,” Nick said. “And obviously, I was curious enough to come meet you both, but I think this was a mistake.”
He shifted, about to pull himself out of the booth. I put one leg out, blocking his way.
Aggressive, sure. But the guy literally just got here.
“Come on,” I said. “One beer. It’s not every day you find out you have a secret brother.” I lifted my hand to the bored woman behind the bar. “A round,” I said.
“Stop,” Nick said, shaking his head. “This isn’t going to be a thing. I have my life. I have my family. It’s all I need.”
“We’re brothers,” Wyatt declared, his voice like thunder. “That’s family too.”