Page 59 of Just Shred

“Last Christmas,” I mumble apologetically, but I know full well Layne is right. I have been taking the easy way out the last couple of years. Maybe it’s time to face what I’ve been running from.

“And how many of those were spent on the road or on an airplane?” he counters.

“I needed new stuff for the web shop.” I pout.

“You’re just scared,” he says, raising his voice.

Angie places her hand on his shoulder.

“No, baby, she needs to hear this,” he grumbles.

I lean back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You are scared, sis,” he states. “Scared to open up.”

“I’m not scared. I run my own business. I ride a Harley, for crying out loud.” I raise my voice.

“How many hours do you put into your work? You’ve barely slept through the night since Ronnie died. You are always writing me emails at three in the morning. Even Dad said you called him at two in the morning on his birthday,” he says, and Angie sighs.

“Don’t talk about Ronnie,” I warn him.

“Fuck that. I will talk about him. I need to talk about him because ever since we lost him on the mountain, I feel like you’re still up there buried three feet deep beside him,” Layne roars.

I push my chair back, letting it fall to the floor. “Fuck you, bro.”

“Layne,” Angie cautions him, grabbing his arm.

My brother shakes his head. “No, she needs to hear this. You have been hiding, kid,” he says, following me to the door.

I shrug on my puffy jacket and grab my beanie, shoving it on my head.

“You need to take a chance for once. Take it with that guy. I’m scared if you don’t, you’ll miss out on something that could be great, like I could have,” he says.

I give Angie an apologetic smile. “I can’t talk about this right now,” I tell him, opening the door.

He clutches my arm. “Don’t make the same mistake I made by ignoring what was right in front of me for years,” he whispers.

Angie smiles at me, leaning against the wall, cradling her stomach.

“Thank you for dinner.” I give her a hug.

“Ace, come on,” my brother pleads, going after me while I walk to my rental.

I open the door, but Layne slams it shut. “I love you, Lemmy. I want you to be happy,” he pleads with red-rimmed eyes.

“I’m happy.” I avert my stare, getting in the car, hoping he isn’t going to spot my tears.

He holds the door open. “No, you’re not. You haven’t been in a long time. It’s time to let him go, sis.”

I push my window down and grind my teeth together. “Screw you, bro, you may have let him go, but I remember everything. You weren’t there when it happened.”

He grabs my arm and shakes me a little. “I know I wasn’t, but you never talk about him. You need to talk about it.”

“I have talked about it,” I tell him, wiping at my eyes.

“With who?”

“With Jesse,” I bite out.

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