“It's not the same, though.”
“The hell it isn’t,” Luke says, elbowing me. “Remember when I was in the fourth grade and Mom homeschooled me for a year because Mrs. Talbot made me read aloud every single day even though she knew I couldn’t make it through a sentence without the letters getting mixed up and swimming all over the page. Christ, Ian, Mom fucking read to me when I was in high school. You guys did too, and don’t deny it. You would listen to audiobooks in the barn—audiobooks that just happened to be on my reading list for English. You think I’m so dumb I didn’t pick up on that?”
I turn to him, my blood heating. “You are not dumb. Don’t say that. You learn differently, and there is not one fucking thing wrong with that.”
“So, it’s ok that we all looked out for Luke?”
“And that we all backed PJ and Katie?”
“Of course,” I answer my brothers without hesitation.
“But we can’t stand up for you?” PJ asks. “And neither can Booker, the man who clearly loves you?”
“How the hell is that different, Ian?” Luke asks.
I just shake my head.
PJ sighs. “It’s hard. I get it. I was nineteen and I needed to move my pregnant girlfriend in to live with us. It fucking gutted me when I’d walk into our room and find diapers or new clothes for Polly. All that on top of the salary they paid me. But we couldn’t do it on our own. So I sucked it up and accepted help.”
Luke just shrugs. “Doesn’t suck anymore for me. Mom and I are in a book club. It’s fucking awesome.”
I roll my eyes.
“For real,” Luke insists. “And you know why? Because I got the hell over myself. Help is a thing, Ian. You give it when you can. If you’re lucky, you get it when you need it. Growing up the way we did? We’re three lucky fuckers.”
My mind goes to Booker. He’s lucky to have his boys, yes, but he’s never had the support of his parents. And hell, I’ve had it my whole life.
I look at my brothers. “God, I’m an asshole.”
“No shit,” PJ agrees, taking a drink.
“The upside is that you know Booker loves you. He stood up for you. Went to fucking bat for you. That douche canoe Christian never would have.”
“True,” I admit. “But Booker shouldn’t have to upend his whole freaking life because of me. His parents aren’t paying for school next year. And they’re not letting him stay in his place on campus. That’s not fair. He shouldn’t have to give everything up, change his life just to be with me.”
“Would you do the same for him?” PJ asks.
“Yes, but—”
“But what? It’s okay if you’re doing the rescuing? Otherwise, it’s bullshit, right?” Luke’s back to calling me on my shit.
“Hey, that’s not fair,” I protest.
“Damn right it’s not,” PJ tells me. “It’s not sustainable, either. Look, I get it. It feels good to be the strong one. But it feels good to be taken care of too.”
I look at my brothers. Damn, when did they get so smart? “You’re both right.”
“Of course, we are. The question is, what are you gonna do about it?” Luke asks.
“I don’t know,” I say, honestly. “But I think I know where to get some help.”
* * *
Half an hour later,I’m in my childhood bedroom, lying on the blue plaid duvet and making a QikTok video.
“Here’s the deal. I messed up. Badly. I let the man I love go all because I was, well, a dumbass, frankly. So I’m usually on here spewing wisdom and insight or asking for ways to unwind. But now I’m asking for your very best groveling strategies. How do I show my ex that I’m sorry? That I’ve changed and I want another chance?”
I edit the video and post it. By the time I’ve showered and brushed my teeth, I’ve got a couple hundred replies. Some people are telling me it’s a hopeless cause, some are saying I need a grand gesture, and one guy said if we get back together, he’s up for a threesome.
