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He throws his hands up, sighing. “Don’t barge in here in some shit mood just because you and your girlfriend got into a fight last night. Yeah, we all saw it, brother. But just because you’re heartbroken or some shit doesn’t mean you can come into my domain and wreak havoc.”
Andddd I see red. “Your domain?”
“Yes, my domain. I’m the one who is here day in and day out, prepping the menu, cooking the food, greeting diners, coming up with long-term plans. I’m the one who sources the food we don’t grow, who has to put out literal fires when something goes wrong. And I don’t mind because I love it. All of it. But not when you bulldoze everything in sight just because you’re the oldest.”
There is the crux of our issue with each other. We’re fighting over this legacy I don’t want but that fell to me. And Evan is fighting to take the one thing he loves about Hope Crest, while not being the one to inherit it.
“That’s right, I am the older brother. Every responsibility should fall on my shoulders, and you, being the youngest, got to gallivant around the world and be babied. You’re so fucking entitled. You want this business, the one that is rightfully supposed to go to me? Then man the fuck up and claim it. You left, Evan! You were gone for years, years in which we barely heard from you while you were building your name. That’s great for fucking you, we’re all proud. But don’t act like we weren’t all here busting our asses for this restaurant. Don’t act like Hope Pizza only registered on the radar when you waltzed back into town.”
The plastic glass I just picked up is slammed onto the drink counter, shattering in my hand and onto the floor. My bones vibrate with rage, and I know I’m projecting all my anger into this argument, but I can’t seem to stop.
Evan’s eyes narrow and his usual Mr. Sunshine attitude seems to cloud over with storms. “That’s what you really think? That I left out of my own selfish reasons? That I didn’t want to be just like my big brothers, my doted on only sister? That I looked up to you so much, wanted to be exactly like you, but knew I never could be. Ever think that maybe, just maybe, I left to prove myself to this family that never expected very much of me? You’re right, Liam, I am the baby. And as such, I never got any responsibility. No one ever expected me to be the backbone, the legacy-holder, the man who would carry on our family name. Not like you. Not like their firstborn, their hero.”
My brain stutters to digest his words. “I’m no one’s?—”
“Yes, you are! You’re my hero. My big brother. The guy I always wanted to be exactly like. I came back because I finally felt good enough to contribute something to this family, and now I’m not even allowed to take responsibility because you all think I’ll fuck it up. Do I want this business? Do I want to own it and run it? Absolutely, I do. No one has that kind of faith in me, but by God, do they have it in you. And here you are, driveling about like some lovesick idiot instead of the strong, kick-ass brother who can crush the skulls of anyone who gets in his way? You want your life to be the way you want it? Go fucking make it that way, Liam! Give the restaurant to me, finally make a decision about something. Declare to Mom and Dad that you want the farm and the farm only. Tell Gabrielle to cut all the bullshit and just be happily in love. Stop putting up with shit you don’t want, and maybe you wouldn’t be in here before dawn rearranging fucking plates and folding pizza boxes.”
His hands fly around him as if they’ll make his point even further. Our panting, angry breaths are the only sound in the dark, quiet restaurant.
Here we stand, two brothers who love so hard but misunderstand each other so terribly. All this time, I thought the worst of him, while he was just trying to live up to what he thought was the best of me.
“Thanks for making me feel even more shit than I did when I walked in here.” I slump down, sinking to the floor and burying my head in my hands.
There is a rustling, and then I feel Evan sit down beside me. “Yeah, well, I’ve hated the way we’ve been at odds since I got home.”
The anger seems to have dissipated, the fever pitch rose, and now we’re both too exhausted to continue it. When you get out all you need to say, sometimes that’s all that needs to be done. It feels like Evan and I were sitting on these thoughts for some time; they needed to explode and then be forgiven.
“For the record, we’re all so fucking impressed by you. Out of all of us, you’re the star. The one who truly made something of himself.” I peek at my brother through my fingers.
He runs a hand through his hair. “From where I’m sitting, you’ve all done so much more with your lives. You’re all so damn happy where you’re at, in our hometown, settled down, and in love.”
I snort. “That remains to be seen on my part.”
Evan shakes his head. “Nah, Gabrielle will come around. You’ll grovel for whatever you did, because it has to be your fault, and then she’ll forgive you. The way you two look at each other, it reminds me of Nonno and Nonna.”
He couldn’t have paid me a higher compliment if he tried.
“All right, should we get this cleaned up before someone else comes in and strangles us both?”
“Are you asking politely if I’ll help you clean up the mess you made?” Evan gives me that wiseass little brother tone.
“I’m asking if you’ll help, so we can also discuss what we’re doing about the business moving forward while we clean.” I raise an eyebrow at him, knowing that he wants to claim ownership of the restaurant, and I’m about to aid him in doing so.
“Deal.” He gives me his hand and we both pull each other up.
At least it feels like one feud in my life is starting to find some resolve. As for the much larger one, the one that risks my own heart, I’m going to need to go out and get what I want, just like my brother advised.
24
GABRIELLE
Even after I puked in the bushes on the way home last night, I still feel the nausea of that sour spit rising in my throat.
Blinking my eyes open doesn’t help because the light of day confirms that the fight with Liam really did happen. Jeez, I didn’t even drink that much last night, and I feel more hungover than I did in my twenties. This is what I get for having an emotional blowout, I guess.
The bed is rocking with a sensation that sends my stomach rolling as I try to sit up.
My hand fists in the oversized T-shirt I put on before I fell asleep, the soft material rubbing against my gut even as I groan from the unpleasantness. Wait …
