Never Doubt Me: Judge Me Not #2(2)

“Whatever, Will.”

“It’s not right,” he persists as he gets right up in my face.

Well, he tries to get all up in my grill. But little brother has to stand on his toes to reach eye level with me. He’s not quite six foot two.

I press my lips together and shake my head. “Better turn it down a notch, baby brother,” I warn.

“Or what?” Will snaps.

Despite the fact he’s brave enough to give me this much grief, I notice he does indeed take a step back, maybe even two.

But he’s not done yapping, not yet. “Dad would have wanted us to share what was left when Gram died,” he continues, gesturing wildly to the surrounding property, even though the moon is hidden and you can’t see much more beyond the house and the driveway. “She had no right to give all of this to just you.”

“Actually, she did, Will. This was her farmhouse, her property. None of this belonged to Dad. Let’s not forget her dear Jack—our f*cking father—offed his ass before anyone could ever give him anything.”

Will screams that I’m an *, and Kay, who’s moved so close to me that I feel her warmth, touches my arm. “Chase,” she murmurs, clearly disappointed I’ve chosen to go there.

Shit, maybe Kay is right. I probably shouldn’t bring Dad into this clusterf*ck of a conversation. Then again, how can I not? As I see it, none of this shit would be happening if my father hadn’t killed himself seven years ago. Will probably wouldn’t be a runaway, and I wouldn’t be the guy always trying to fill the void my father left in his wake.

Like I’m f*cking capable of shit like that. Hell, I’m only three months out of prison, another indirect consequence of Dad’s selfish act. I have no doubt if my father hadn’t taken the easy way out, this family would have remained solid. Jack Gartner’s suicide broke the wills and hearts of those who loved him most.

Life binds. Death shatters.

My mom tried to pick up her broken pieces with gambling and men, while I filled the gaping hole that had been punched in my heart with drugs, fighting, and loose women. And Will, though he exhibited outward signs of depression for a while, mostly chose to keep his shit internalized.

He never really acted out. Well, until recently.

Will’s eyes narrow. “I don’t need to listen to this shit,” he spits, before he spins around and thunders down the porch steps.

“Hey, wait.” My tone has softened, since I’m beginning to feel like a tool.

I’m trying here, I am, but Will’s feet keep moving. When he reaches the base of the steps, he suddenly stops. Slowly, he turns to face me, like maybe he’s forgotten something.

Apparently, he has. He has more crap to spew.

“You know, Chase,” he begins, “you can bring Dad into this all-l-l-l you want. But the fact remains that your f*ckups are no one’s fault but your own. You made your own decisions. No one shoved that shit you used to love so much up your nose. No one made you run from the police the night you got busted. That was all you, bro.” He points at me, shakes his head, disgusted. “And forty hits of E? Really, man, how dumb could you have been?”

Will is challenging me, pushing my buttons. And it’s working. My fists clench at my sides, despite Kay running her hand up and down my arm, trying in vain to calm me.

“You can hide out here in the country,” Will continues, “live in Gram’s old farmhouse, work for the church down the street”—he points in the direction of town and then to Kay—“date the prettiest girl in town. But you’re not fooling anyone. You’re still that guy, Chase, that guy who used to fill his nose with blow. That guy who—”

Will doesn’t get any further with his colorful diatribe. I am down the steps and in his face in a heartbeat. “Care to go on?” I snap, eyes blazing.

Will shuts the f*ck up. In fact, everything quiets. Or maybe it’s just my imagination. Most likely, my boiling blood has distorting my hearing. But I swear even the crickets that were chirping in the background seconds ago have fallen silent, like they’re transfixed by this family drama.

Will presses his lips together, puffs up a little. He tries to look tough, but, really, he’s shaking in his scuffed black Chucks.

Kay has thankfully remained up on the porch with Cassie. Thank f*ck she didn’t follow me down the steps. I don’t like her seeing this side of me, certainly not close up.

But when Will’s girlfriend gasps and cries out, “Kay, please make them stop,” I worry both girls will soon be in the fray.

I guess I’ve underestimated Kay, though. She apparently knows me well enough to realize I’d never actually hurt my brother.

Calmly, she says to Cassie, “Will and Chase are fine, sweetie.” After a pause, she murmurs, more to herself than to Cassie, “They need this.”

Oh, we do, Kay, we so very much do. It’s been a long time coming.

While Kay and Cassie remain on the porch, Will takes one huge step away from me. But when I take two steps forward, my brother and I are once again inches apart.

I assess my brother. He’s changed in so many ways. Will has filled out a lot; he’s not the gangly kid he used to be. His shoulders are wide, and the muscles in his arms are corded and tight. He’s still pretty lean, though, and I can tell he’d come out on the other end of a fight pretty much f*cked up. Not that he’ll be getting any fight from me tonight. My goal is to intimidate him a bit, make him start showing me some goddamn respect.