Page 24 of Love Not Qualified

“If you tell me you didn’t do it, I’ll go back and confront her right now,” I said, even though his eyes were red.

His silence was an ordinary thing, but the kind he was giving me now was only for one reason—he did it. Instead of releasing the sigh rising in my throat, I put a hand on his shoulder.

“If you were curious about what smoking feels like, you could’ve told me and I would’ve given it to you. Athome.” I stressed the last word, wanting him to understand what he did was not acceptable. But I was also not his enemy.

I knew what it was like to be curious about that kind of stuff and I preferred to have him try them in the safety of our house, not in school.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you or what to do to help, but at least talk to me about it.”

My eyes bore into his, hoping he was going to understand how serious I was. That I wasn’t saying this just for the sake of being a good brother, but because I meant it to the bone.

At his age, I made a lot of mistakes and acted rebellious, but communication wasn’t as big of a problem for me as it was for him.

I wasn’t the most talkative person… I’ll give you that. Still, Ryker simply didn’t talk. Ever.

My brother didn’t display any emotion, standing like a stone next to me. I took the car key from my pocket and opened it before rounding the vehicle and getting in the driver's seat.

There’s only so much a person could do, and when it came to him, I felt like nothing was working. No matter how hard I pushed his limits or how hard I tried to climb the walls he built around himself, I couldn’t reach him. He was too far away.

The entire drive home, Ryker didn’t even spare me a glance and I tried my best to give him a few minutes of silence before trying again.

When I parked the car in our driveway, he strode inside with only one destination in mind—his room. He could do that, but after he gave me something.

I followed him, entering the house and stopping him before he reached the staircase. “Ryke,” I started, and his shoulders tensed. “I believe you have too much freedom and it’s getting to your head. I haven’t got involved because I know you want to get back the years you lost, but that doesn’t mean you have to destroy yourself. Every night you sneak out, I act like I don’t see. Every time the headmaster calls me to ask if you’re sick again, I lie that you are. Every time you bring a girl home, I sleep somewhere else.” The words simply flew out of my mouth. They were directed at his back because he didn’t turn to look at me.

He stood like that, probably waiting for me to finish and dismiss him so he could go to his room, throw those earplugs into his ears, and stay like that until it was morning and he had to leave for school.

“Do you want me to act like a parent?” I asked, not knowing what else to say. “Should I take your phone for a week, lock your door and windows? Because I don’t know how the fuck to handle all of this.” I raised my arms, then let them drop back on my legs.

When I left New York, Ryker asked Dad if he could move with me. I remember I prayed for weeks he wouldn't agree, afraid that I was going to have too many responsibilities in my head when that was exactly what I was running from.

To this day, I thought he somehow knew I didn’t want to take him with me. When we moved into this house, it was almost as if he wasn’t there. He cleaned after himself, ate alone, and kept himself out of problems.

The stupid headmaster was right.I was the reason why he was as cold as he was.

“I don’t care,” was all he said before he strode on the stairs.

I opened my mouth to stop him, but I had no idea what to say.

Like every other day, instead of facing my demons and solving my problems, I withdrew into the safety of my office with a bottle of rum in my hand.

My eyes swept to the watch on my wrist.

Two p.m.

Usually, I started drinking after a whole day of work when I knew I had nothing else to do. Today, though…

Today I have a reason.

I poured myself some of the liquid and opened my coat for some fresh air, my eyes fixing on an old photo of me and Dad. I was around eight back then and it was the first time he took me fishing.

My fingers grabbed the frame and I brushed a thumb over his face. He was so full of life. No matter what life threw in his way, he always saw the positive side of everything.

He would’ve known how to handle Ryker.

The agony slashed at my chest and I gulped the liquid in one go.

He loved life, yet he stopped taking his pills when he had so many more years to live. Sometimes I believed he was a coward and selfish bastard for giving up, not once thinking about the people he left behind.

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