Nick takes another deep breath. “You always did call me when you fucked up.”
“Well yeah, Ian would’ve torn me apart. You won’t.”
“Maybe because I’ve probably done worse.”
“Maybe,” I say, shrugging. “Or maybe you just understand better than anyone else.”
I can see his chest puff up with pride.
“I don’t know if I can draw a line under what’s happened, but I know that it wasn’t your fault that she never came back to me.”
“That doesn’t erase what I did, though.”
“No. But it’s already a start.”
“A start…I like that,” he smiles, satisfied. “So…” he continues, cautiously. “You and Christine…?”
“Me and Christine. Over before it even started.”
“Mmm…”
“Jesus, what kind of bastard am I?”
“You’re not a bastard, Ryan, you never have been. Not even when you were trying to kill me.”
“I never did, though. I couldn’t have.”
“I know.”
“You always know everything.”
“I definitely know more than you. Like how, right now, you’re dying of guilt and you just want to find a way to make things right and make her forgive you. But you don’t know how.”
“I’d be happy to beat myself to a pulp.”
“I don’t think that would solve anything – apart from ruining your handsome face. And, bro, you still need it.”
I smile, despite myself.
“What did you do that was so bad?”
“Something horrible – something unforgivable.”
“Do I have to call back up?” he jokes, but I’m not in the mood.
“No,” I tell him, looking him in the eyes. From my expression, he understands that I’m serious. “Just you. Just…us.”
“Us,” he repeats, and I swear I can see a warmth of emotion in his eyes.
Maybe, after everything that’s happened, it really is time to put it all behind us. Maybe he’s not as big a dick as he seems.
Maybe Ian was right to make me come back.
Maybe, now, it finally feels like I have two brothers again.
