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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.