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“Alright then. What do you got, little brother?”
He brushes his hands to wipe off some crumbs without lifting his head. The asshole does it right over my couch, too. My fists clench.
“Why are you being all pathetic and mopey? You’re freaking everyone out, and it’s somehow become my problem.”
“Well, you just said it yourself. That’s your problem.”
He turns so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t get whiplash.
“Whoareyou right now? Seriously, Miles, you’re the one that’s supposed to keep your shit together.”
“Maybe I’m sick of it when it means that my mother still tries to control everything I do like I’m still a teenager who can’t make my own decisions,” I snap with complete and total honesty. The most I’ve given him in a long time.
He huffs out a laugh. “There you go, fucking finally. You think you’re the only one? You think I don’t get it just as bad?”
I only shrug because how would I know? It’s not like we’re in the habit of telling each other how we’re feeling. I throw myself down on the other end of the couch.
“You know…” he starts. “I don’t want to try with Isabelle anymore.”
My eyes widen, this is definitely the first time I’ve heard him say anything like that. It's always been so crucial to him that they keep trying to make things work.
“I love my kids, more than anything. I let myself think that what was best for them was sticking things out. Making our marriage work despite everything. One guess as to who pushed that onto me so hard?” I don’t have to say it. “Insisting she shows up to all the family dinners, mentioning more grandchildren. The reality is that we can’t help but hurt each other. The kids know it, young as they might be, they still pick up on things. I don’t see how that’s better than giving them two separate homes to live in.”
“I had no idea.”
“Neither did I until recently.” The sigh that comes out of him is the most stressed I’ve ever heard him. “But I’m going to do it. I’m going to sign the divorce papers and get this show on the road. I’ve already started looking into a new apartment. My point in saying all of this, is that I feel so much better now that I’ve made this decision. Maybe I can inspire you to make your own decision so you can knock off this zombie act.”
There are too many things I need to address about what he just told me, but I start with the easiest one. “Have you told mom yet?”
He shakes his head. “Not going to until I have to.”
“Fair enough.”
“So?” he asks. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with that girl, and what the hell mom has to do with it?”
I contemplate it for a long time. Seconds tick by, and he doesn't rush me. We just sit there in silence.
“I’m not ready to do that," I finally say.
“Do I have to pry it out of mom? You two and your secrets are freaking me out.”
I shake my head. “There’s no way she’ll tell you.”
He throws his arms up, looking a lot like a defeated kid.
“Can you figure your shit out and let me know when you’re ready? This is crap, Miles.”
“It is,” I agree.
My brother stares at me for a minute, taking in the bags under my eyes, the unshaved beard. He processes just how bad I look with an unreadable expression.
Then he surprises me by pulling me out of my seat and into a hug. That wasn’t on my bingo card for the year.
Honestly, the only thing I knew was going to happen was my divorce. Everyone saw it coming. Just as much as we all saw it coming for Justin, even when he was determined to keep it from happening.
I never could've guessed the way I feel about Autumn Owens, and how much it hurts.
“What are the odds of two brothers getting divorced in the same year? I feel like that’s pretty unlikely.”
