Page 93 of Tangled Desires

Michael’s next to me on the couch, his leg bouncing in time with mine. Neither of us says a word. Just waiting. The weight in the room feels like it could crush us both.

Imogen stops in front of me, her eyes full of things she’s not saying. She leans down, kisses the top of my head, and lingers there. Just long enough to remind me she’s here, even when she’s not. Her hand rubs my back, slow and steady. “I’ll be at Isla’s, okay?”

My eyes flick up, catching hers. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” She pecks my lips and then she’s gone. I hear the front door click shut. And right on cue, there’s another knock. My mum stands in the doorway.

“Hi,” I manage, my throat dry. She steps in, awkward as hell, and sinks into the chair across from us. The silence is suffocating. After a moment, Mum clears her throat.

“Imogen looks happy. Glowing.” Her gaze shifts to me. “You suit each other.” For once, there’s no edge. Just… truth.

“Yeah,” I swallow hard. “She’s good to me.”

Silence again. The kind that digs under your skin.

“I wasn’t,” Mum says, voice breaking on the last word. Michael tenses beside me, but I don’t look away from her. “I was lost. After Gary… he broke me. And I let him break us.” I feel the hit straight to the chest. “The addiction… It numbed everything. The pain. The guilt. God, the fucking guilt.” She wipes at her face, but the tears keep coming. “I knew, Harrison. I knew what he was doing to you. And I didn’t stop it. I couldn’t.” I want to say something, anything, but my mouth is dry, my tongue thick in my mouth like it’s been coated with sandpaper.

“You could’ve,” Michael mutters.

“I wasn’t strong enough,” she says. “Joe saved us. He saved me. ButInever saved you. You didn’t deserve that. Any of it. I was a coward. And I left you both to deal with it all alone.” Michael’s always been quiet about this. Butnottonight.

“Harrison did,” Michael says. There’s a tremor in his voice, the kind that feels like it’s been held back for too long. “I didn’t. I was just a fucking kid. He was, too. I didn’t know how to deal with any of it. But he…” His voice falters, and for a second, it’s like the words are stuck in his throat. “He made sure he never hit me. Took every hit so I wouldn’t have to. Shielded me from all of it—fuck, I didn’t even know half the stuff that went on most of the time.”

His hands are gripping his knees now, knuckles white, tears brimming in his eyes but not falling. “I was fucking terrified. But I never felt the true horror because Harrison didn’t let me. Imagine how he felt—God…” he chokes. “Harrison kept me distracted, kept me safe. He made sure I could just… be a kid.” His voice cracks with every word and it fucking guts me. “I don’t know how he did it. How he carried it all. But he did. And I’ll never forget that. I owe him everything for that.”

The tears slip down his cheeks, silent but heavy. And that’s it—that’s what breaks me. My breath shudders, my chest tightens, and I have to clench my jaw so hard it feels like it’ll snap, just to keep from losing it. “I’ll never be able to repay you, Harrison.”

“You’re not supposed to,” I manage to choke out. “That’s what brothers do, Mikey.” I reach over, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hug. It’s not soft. It’s desperate. Like if we let go, everything we’ve built will crumble. He clings just as hard, and we sit there, breathing through the weight of it. Mum’s sobs have quieted, but I can still hear them. Feel them.

When we break apart, Michael swipes at his face, trying to pull himself together, but the weight of it all lingers between us. I clear my throat, sitting back. “I’ve been seeing a counsellor,” I say, voice barely above a whisper. “She’s been helping.”

Mum’s breath hitches, her hand pressing to her chest. “That’s… really good to hear, Harrison. I’m glad you’re getting the help you need.” Her voice wavers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. But I’m here now. Sober. I never left you both, despite everything.”

Yeah, despite everything, she’s right. She is still here. I can’t keep carrying this grudge like some badge of pain. It’s exhausting. If I want peace—closure—this is where it starts. Not forgiveness. Not yet. But a step. Trust will take time. Rebuilding? Maybe even longer. But it’s something to go by.

Michael wipes his face. “I’m proud of you, Harrison. Seeing a counsellor… that’s big.”

I shrug, brushing it off. “Yeah, well. She’s good. Fucking expensive, but worth it. You should think about it, too. Might help.”

He lets out a rough laugh. “Maybe.”

Her eyes find mine. “Could I… Could I hug you?” It’s like a blow I didn’t see coming, stealing my breath and locking me in place. I find myself nodding, anyway. Yeah. I’d like that.

I rise to my feet, and when her arms wrap around me, they’re hesitant at first. But something shifts, and I grip her tighter. Just her. No smoke. No alcohol. Only her—clean and present.

I can’t tell you the last time we did this. Hugged. She trembles, her tears soaking into my shirt. My hand moves over her back—it’s stiff and unsure, but I’m trying. She pulls away.

“Michael. Come here.”

Michael hesitates, but when he steps in, she wraps him up, too. And just like that, we’re caught in this awkward, all-in hug. It doesn’t fix anything. Doesn’t erase the years or the crap we’ve been through.

“Nineteen years,” I mutter, my voice cracking. “We should’ve done this nineteen years ago.”

“But we’re here now,” Michael says quietly.

“Yeah. We are.” It’s not a magic fix. Won’t solve everything overnight. But it’s something.

It’s a start.

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