Page 43 of Always Mine

Yeah, fuck that.

My head and my heart are not on the same playing field where Wyatt is concerned. The thought of him being with anyone else makes me physically sick, especially when that someone is a friend from my past. I push off the tree and pace, walking back and forth between the cornfield and the big tree. Luckily, it’s getting dark out, and I’m far enough away that nobody can see my freak-out.

“Fuck,” I grit out, kicking at a patch of sweet grass when I pass. I don’t know what to do anymore.

“Paxton?” I freeze before looking up at the sky. The last thing I need right now is to have it out with my brother. We’ve been struggling to find a mutual understanding since I got back, and I don’t have it in me to fight.

Not with him.

“Not now.” I sigh, planting my ass on the ground again, and leaning against the tree once more. “I just need…” A minute to breathe? To wrap my head around what I just saw?Take your pick.

I expect Bryan to leave, but I’m surprised when he settles in beside me. Neither of us says a thing, and it takes a moment for me to realize that he’s leaning against me, letting me know that he’s here. A grounding presence. It’s a thing we used to do when we fought as kids. We had a hard time apologizing, and we’re both too stubborn for it, so this was the middle ground.

“I thought you were pissed at me?” I finally say. It’s probably not the best opener, but I’m really curious as to why he’s the one who came after me and not Ma.

He sighs, shifting a bit, but never breaking contact with me. “Oh, I am. Have been for a while.”

I nod, already knowing that. I tilt my head, wanting to see his expression. “Want to duke it out?”

A wide smile spreads across his face and he shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe tomorrow.”

This is us. The banter and easy conversation. He was fifteen when I left for Cali and went into his tenth-grade year. I thought he would be fine when I left. He had a group of friends and was on the swim team. He fit into his high school role seamlessly.

Is he really upset over me leaving? Over us not talking? I mean, I know I grew distant, but so did he. He stopped answering my calls and eventually, I stopped trying.

I begin to notice a pattern.

I give up on people too easily. I did it with Wyatt and Bryan, at the same time, and now I’m trying to mend those same two bridges.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I wish I knew what to do. I’ve tried to talk, but he dodges my every advance. I thought if we could get it all out in the open, we’d be able to gain some common ground. Even if we couldn’t get back to what we had, we’d have an understanding.”

“He’s mad.”

I want to say something sarcastic, but I won’t. This is the first real conversation I’ve had with Bryan since I came home, and I don’t want to mess it up.

“So are you,” I say instead, motioning to where he’s sitting. “But you’re still talking to me.”

“It’s different.” His tone is soft, and I watch as he draws patterns on the knee of his jeans.

“How?”

“You’re my brother.” Folding his legs up, he swivels to look at me head-on. “At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what you’ve done, how badly you’ve screwed up, or how angry I am. I’ll stand by you because it’s my job. Because no matter what, we’re blood. You’re going through some shit right now, and as much as I would love to pretend that I don’t care and give you back a little of what you’ve given me the last three years, I can’t do that.” There’s no malice in his words, he’s just telling me like it is.

I like that.

I feel the need to interject and correct something, though. “I’ve always cared about you, Bryan. That didn’t change because I wasn’t here. You have to know that.”He has to.Like he just said, we’re brothers. That connection can’t be broken, no matter how bad we may want to at times.

He inhales deeply, shaking his head and carrying on like I didn’t speak. “Wyatt’s different, though. Where I’m on your side, ready to fightforyou, he’s on enemy territory, ready to fightagainstyou. You hurt him, and even though you’ve known him your entire life, he isn’t obligated to forgive you.”

“Damn, you’re brutal.” He’s not wrong, but it still stings to have it all laid out like that.

“I’m being real. I’m not trying to say I’m obligated to help you, but honestly, I kind of am. Or at least, that’s how we were raised. Family comes first, we take care of our own...” His voice rises as he speaks, impersonating our Ma.

“Okay, I get it.”

“Not saying it’s a bad thing, but you asked what was different, so I’m trying to explain the best I know how.”

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