Page 81 of Infinite

I couldn’t explain why I needed to see them, exactly. And by the hard and merciless way Emer continues to regard me, he sure didn’t share the same sentiment.

When the seconds turn to minutes and Emmer remains silent, I know I have to say something. “If this is a bad time, I’ll leave. You have my number. Just call.”

A laugh erupts from Carson. It’s neither vicious nor filled with good humor. It’s maniacal, bordering on psychotic and enough to send a shiver peeling its way down my spine.

“You hear that, Emer? You should call. Maybeweshould call? It’ll be a grand old time, don’t you think?”

I frown in Carson’s direction, watching the way his back jerks and quivers as he continues to laugh in that crazy way. Emer doesn’t sport the “what the fuck?” expression I’m currently wearing. He barely blinks, as if he’s forgotten Carson is present. I’m not sure what’s happening and I’m no longer certain leaving is an option. Not given Carson’s fragile state.

“Let’s sit on the porch,” Emer says.

It’s all he manages. I suppose it’s enough.

His heavy feet march up the stairs and across the wooden floor. He reaches the porch swing painted a bright turquoise and takes a seat. I follow behind him, giving him plenty of room when I sit beside him.

There’s a good amount of space separating us. Emer should feel even further away. There’s not so much as a speck of warmth between us. But this is the closest I’ve sat to my brother in years. I welcome it in a way, but there are more ways that I dread it.

It takes a long damn while for either of us to say anything. I’m the one who speaks first. I suppose that’s the type of relationship that Emer and me have always had. “You before me” so he can figure out the best way to answer, but only if he thinks I chose to say enough. It’s how Emer rolls and one of the reasons I’ve always respected him.

I lean forward, resting my forearms against my legs and clasping my hands. “How are you?” I ask.

I think he expected me to press about the letters. Maybe I should have since it’s what he brought up. Except, as much as I would love to retrieve that box stuffed with memories of my mother’s love and vanish, I need him to answer what I ask even more.

Emer jerks his chin in Carson’s direction. “Better than him,” he replies. “Delilah filed for divorce. She took the kids and left. He hasn’t seen them in almost five months.”

“She can’t do that,” I say.

“She can if he’s not willing to stop her,” Emer counters.

Carson and Delilah were college sweethearts and those kids meant everything to him. I don’t have children. But if I did and that was Becca trying to leave, I’d do anything to make it work. “Why won’t he do anything? File an injunction or something?”

“Because he doesn’t think he fucking deserves them,” Emer responds like it’s obvious. “Look at him, Hale. Look at what he’s become. You think any of us have been the same since Daddy and Momma died,andwe found out about you?”

It’s not just what Emer says that cements me in place. It’s the amount of words that come out of him. Emer is the type that shuts down when people are losing their minds, choosing to watch and listen, to take it all in, becoming invisible until it’s time to act.

At Daddy’s funeral, he tucked Momma against him, becoming her human shield and pillar of strength as they lowered the casket into the ground. He glared across the way to where I stood with Mason and Sean flanking my sides.

After learning I wasn’t Daddy’s real son, I no longer felt like I belonged with the family. The only place I felt I should be was with the family I’d made throughout the years. That family was Mason, Sean, and Trin’s family, who stood directly behind me.

Emer didn’t say one word to me during the service. Not one. But it’s like everything he didn’t say throughout the years, he makes up for now, spitting the words like fire from a dragon to sizzle against my skin.

“It wasn’t just about you, Hale. It was about us, too.”

“How?” I ask. I’m not trying to be an asshole or pick a fight. I honestly want to know. “How is me not being Daddy’s blood ever about you?”

Emer presses his mouth into such a straight line, his lips disappear. His muscles tense like he’s ready to take a swing, instead of separating me and Carson like he did when we were kids.

“You don’t think you’re our brother. Do you?” he asks.

I don’t realize how much I’m clenching my jaw until I jam the words out through my teeth. “Is this a serious question? If it is, I have a serious response.”

“Then let’s hear it, bigshot,” Emer says, leaning back. “I’m all ears.”

Rage burns me from the inside out. I’m not sure whether to start hollering or to start punching. I’m pretty sure I’ll do both before I leave. Hell, I have all day. Let’s get this family reunion started.

I start with the hollering. At least, that’s my intent. But for as loud as I want and think I deserve to be, my voice grows oddly quiet, despite its deepening tone. “The man I thought was my father died telling me I wasn’t his son. All those games I played as a kid, the ones only Momma would attend since Daddy had to work. Do you remember those, Emer? The same games he never missed for you and Carson? You know the real reason he was noticeably absent, don’t you? All those times I begged him to play with me, but he was always too tired? He never seemed too tired out when it came to you and Carson. I suppose it all makes sense now, doesn’t it? He didn’t want to have to love me. He didn’t want to have to be there for me. Why would he? I wasn’t his real son.”

“Yeah, you were.”

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