Page 59 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

That night, I call in the last favor I've been saving. A classmate of mine works at an animal sanctuary about thirty minutes outside of town—one that specializes in exotic rescues. It takes some convincing, but she finally agrees to give us a private tour after hours tomorrow.

Hannah mentioned once during our twenty questions game that her dream job as a kid was to be a veterinarian, before the fainting-during-a-field-trip incident. I'm betting she still has a soft spot for animals.

Just as I'm setting my alarm for morning classes tomorrow, my phone rings. It's Cade. I stare at the screen, debating whether to answer. We haven't spoken since our fight outside Hannah's dorm building, and I'm not sure I'm ready for whatever conversation he wants to have.

But ignoring him won't make this situation any less complicated. Sooner or later, I'll have to face the reality that I'm pursuing a relationship with my brother's ex.

I answer on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

"Sandy," he says, his voice slightly slurred. "We need to talk."

Great. He's been drinking.

"Now's not a good time," I say, keeping my tone neutral. "I've got an early class tomorrow."

"It's about Hannah," he presses, ignoring my excuse. "I texted her. She's not responding."

My grip tightens on the phone. "Maybe because you called her a whore and then started dating someone else immediately."

"That was a mistake," he says. "I want her back."

The words hit me hard. "What?"

"I miss her," he continues. "We were good together. You fucked it up. I fucked it up, but I can fix it."

"Cade—"

"I need your help, bro. Just talk to her for me. Tell her how I am. Tell her I said I'm sorry."

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. "I can't do that."

"Why not?" His voice takes on an edge. "You're my brother. Bros before—"

"Don't finish that sentence," I cut him off. "It's not happening."

"Why the fuck not?" Now he sounds angry.

I consider lying. Consider making up an excuse about staying out of his relationships or respecting Hannah's decision. But I'm tired of the deception, tired of dancing around the truth.

"Because I've been seeing her," I say finally.

Silence on the other end, so complete I wonder if the call dropped.

"You what?" His voice is deadly quiet when he finally speaks.

"We've been talking. Hanging out."

"How long?"

"Not long. A week or so."

Another long silence. Then: "You son of a bitch."

"Cade—"

"No, you listen to me, you piece of shit! You’re my brother! My own fucking brother!" His voice rises with each word. "You can’t be fucking serious, Sandy. Is this because of that night? Because of mom and dad? Are you trying to get back at me? Punish me?"

"No," I say firmly. "It has nothing to do with that. It just…happened."

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