Page 168 of A Little Complicated

But the silence? It’s even worse.

Beep. Beep.

I glance at my brother again. His feet are propped on the edge of Lia’s chair, and he’s leaning back on his own, staring at the ceiling. The angry bruises from our fight over Ophelia have faded to yellow, but they’re still present, making him look even more exhausted.

Beep. Beep.

It’d be better if he was playing with his phone. If he was sleeping. If I couldn’t feel the tension clinging to his clothes. His expression. His tight fists.

Beep. Beep.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I rasp, keeping my voice low.

“Tell me what? That you were seeing Ophelia last spring or you’re dying?”

He’s pissed. He has every right to be. But it doesn’t make this easier.

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I mutter, “Both.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything else.

Beep. Beep.

“I know it isn’t enough,” I add. “I know I fucked up. But I’m sorry.”

“All right.” His eyes are vacant and dull as he looks at me. “Anything else?”

I stay quiet, and he nods again, turning his vacant stare back to the ceiling.

“I know you feel like I betrayed you,” I continue.

Beep. Beep.

“And you’re right. I did. We’re brothers. I should’ve told you—”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” He pulls his feet from the edge of Ophelia’s chair and sets them on the ground, shifting in his seat as his forearms find his knees. “If you had told me…” His molars grind. “I wouldn’t have touched her. I wouldn’t have done that to you. I would’ve had your back.”

“I know.”

“If you had told me, I would’ve been here, brother. I would’ve taken you to every fucking appointment. I would’ve—” His mouth snaps closed, and he sniffs. The betrayal in his eyes is enough to put me in my grave right here, right now. And so are his unshed tears.

Beep. Beep.

Fucking hell.

“I know,” I repeat. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Yet, I’m still the one who’s gonna carry all the regret.” He pushes to his feet and wipes his palms against his jeans, looking like a little kid. Like when we used to play roller hockey in the driveway, and he’d get worked up, ready to bash heads in, only this time it’s mine.

“Don’t feel guilty,” I murmur. “About any of it. You didn’t know.”

“But I should’ve. I should’ve seen the signs. You were always in better shape than I was. How did I not notice the way you were slipping? The way you were always more tired than you used to be? If I hadn’t been so preoccupied—”

“Don’t do this. Don’t play this game.”

Head hanging, he starts pacing the small room, drowning in his guilt. “If I hadn’t been so preoccupied, I would’ve noticed the way she wanted to keep her distance from you. I would’ve noticed the way you were with her. I would’ve—”

“Stop,” I beg as my eyes fall to Ophelia.

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