“I would never do that. You’re my sister.”
“You can’t shut Connor out either.”
The brother looking back at me isn’t the warm, compassionate, ride or die guy I’ve always known. This man is cold, heartless. Detached. “I don’t expect you to understand?—”
“Understand what?” I cross the room until there’s only a few feet between us. “Betrayal? Hurt? Loss? Bitterness? I understand all of those things.”
“You don’t get it!” he snaps. “I trusted him.”
“You can still trust him, Drew. He’s your best friend.”
“Not anymore, he isn’t.”
The finality in his tone, the icy look in his eyes—I search, I scavenge every corner of his expression for any hint of uncertainty. But I find none.
“Don’t say things like that,” I finally say. I shake my head, willing him to take it back. “I know you’re upset. It’s been a crazy week…for everybody. Emotions are high and we’re all on edge. Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
He scoffs. “He did this to himself, Gretch.”
“There is so much you don’t know. What happened today was not how it was supposed to go. Please talk to him. He wants to explain everything.”
“I know everything I need to know. He lied to my face. He went behind my back. He promised me I could trust him and it’s now obvious that I can’t. There’s nothing else to say.”
Tears fall down my cheeks. My brother’s accusations land like bullets in my chest. All this time, Connor’s fear that Drew would cut him out, I thought he was exaggerating. But he was right.
“And if I tell you I’m in love with him?”
He sucks in a grating breath through his nose, eyes closing like he needs to center himself before he loses it.Good. Let’s fight.
“Gretchen.” My name is a warning. “I’m not doing this right now.”
“Well, I am!” My voice amps up as my previously tempered anger bubbles back to the surface.
“Frankly, I don’t care what you want. I’ve been walking the cityfor ten hours, I’m exhausted and I just want to get in bed with my wife.”
If a heart can slump, that’s what mine does. Right there behind my sternum, it sags in despair. And I try—I try so hard to extend grace because I know that buried beneath his anger and distrust is a thick layer of grief that I can’t begin to comprehend. It’s clouding his ability to think clearly. “Fine, but I’m not leaving. I’ll stay here and we can talk in the morning.”
“I’m not letting you sleep on my couch.”
I’m not proud of it, but the need to corner him into compliance is all consuming. “Then I’ll go back to Connor’s.”
His face pales. With every silent second that passes, his defenses fall and I know I’ve won. “Fine. You sleep with Reagan and I’ll take the couch.”
“Ew, and sleep on your sex sheets? I’m good, thanks.”
He rolls his eyes, grumbling his way to the hall closet. When he returns, he shoves a stack of sheets and blankets into my chest. “There, you get the couch. Happy now?”
“Not particularly.” He turns toward his bedroom. “Oh, wait. Can I borrow a phone charger?”
He spends the next ten minutes, begrudgingly, digging through junk drawers in pursuit of a cable compatible with my phone and comes up empty. Before he can slam his bedroom door in my face, I make one more request. “Drew?” He sighs in exasperation, but turns to meet my gaze. “I need you to text Connor and let him know I’m staying here tonight.”
He mumbles a curse under his breath. “I’m not texting him.”
“Please,” I beg, tone serious. “He’s expecting me and I don’t want him to worry.” After several seconds, he still makes no move for his phone. “If you don’t, he may show up here looking for me.”
With a final murmur of disapproval, he pulls out his phone and types something on his screen before the whooshing sound of a sent message cuts the tension.
“There,” he offers.
