DREW
They always looked for Caprice. They never once caught sight of her.
But they kept each other breathing.
So he ended up ringing their doorbell with two of Kyle’s favorites—a Belgian Malinois and a tub of rocky road.
“No, Mom,” he said flatly. “This is Rufus. Kyle’s dog.”
He watched carefully as her lip twitched. “Why did you bring it here?”
“Because I’m here,” he said, skipping the air kisses and breezing past her into his childhood home.
They entered the overly formal front hall with its black-and-white marble floors and curving staircase.
His father descended from the landing, wearing a suit jacket and carrying a pipe of all things.
Like he’d accessorized from a pinboard of pretentious male accessories.
Drew would have laughed if his dad hadn’t been frowning so hard in his direction.
“What’s this, Andrew?”
Drew bristled. Either from being called by his formal name—his father’s name—or maybe Rufus being referred to as it and this since they’d walked in the door.
“The dog was Kyle’s,” his mother said behind him. Over him.
He turned and handed her the fast-melting ice cream, giving her no choice but to take it and scurry off to the kitchen before it dripped and ruined the floor polish. His dad reached the bottom of the steps, and though they had been the same height for nearly two decades, Drew still felt small.
Rufus remained at his heel. A good dog.
“How have you been, son?” the man asked. Apparently there had been some quick, unspoken agreement with his wife to just pretend Rufus wasn’t there.
This rankled Drew. They’d done the same thing to his brother.
He exhaled, trying to rein in his frustration.
The real answer to Dr. W. Andrew Forbes’s question was that he’d been terrible.
He’d walked around like a zombie all week, nursing the giant sinkhole in his chest. After the first night listening to Rufus’s mournful whining, he broke every rule in his own book and let the dog sleep in his bed.
He’d hoped they might offer some comfort to each other, and on some base level, they did.
Unfortunately, they also served as constant reminders that neither of them was Caprice.
But that wasn’t the answer his father was interested in.
Drew aimed for the middle. As rebellious as he ever got.
“I’ve been really busy, actually.” He ran a hand through his messy hair. “We’ve been getting a lot of referrals from one of the local doggie daycares.”
Dr. Forbes’s bushy eyebrows drew down. He exchanged a glance with his wife as she reentered the room. The air was so thick with disapproval that the barometric pressure might as well have dropped.
“Dinner is served,” his mother said, taking her husband’s arm and clicking her heels toward the formal dining room.
Drew made a study of his own feet as he shuffled behind them, grateful for the canine glued to his hip.
As his father pulled out his mother’s chair, she cleared her throat and launched another assault. “I had a call with Dr. Rashida at Chapel Hill yesterday. They’re still very interested in bringing you back whenever you’re done with your little . . . project.”
Drew’s breath stuttered. He made a fist at his side and thought of Kyle. “You mean my business?”
She didn’t wrinkle her nose, but he saw her effort not to. “Darling, we understood why you had to step away from the fellowship—”
“You understood?” he interrupted, surprising himself.
The two doctors looked at each other before she replied mildly, “Of course we did. You were upset about your brother.”
She didn’t speak his name.
Her husband took his seat at the head of the table spread with china, sterling silver, and high-flown birds. Drew made no move to join them. He laid a hand on Rufus’s head, stroking the softest part of his ear. “Well then, maybe you’ll understand why I’m not going back.”
They straightened in unison, another silent conversation passing between them. And just like when he was growing up, all he could do was gird himself by petting the dog. But when he closed his eyes, he could almost feel Kyle at his shoulder.
“Now, let’s not talk nonsense,” his father said, taking a granite tone. “We know you struggled with your brother’s loss, but in reality, that has only increased your responsibility to this family.”
“My responsibility,” Drew echoed.
“Correct,” his father intoned. “You were always the eldest son. Now, unfortunately, you’re our sole heir.”
He raised his head. “What was our responsibility to Kyle?”
Another shared glance. That time, more uncomfortable. It reminded him of the dinners after Kyle turned thirteen when he’d started not-so-subtly informing them they were full of shit. They’d stared at him, told him what a disappointment he was for expressing his own opinions.
And what had Drew done about it?
Rufus pushed his nose into his hand.
“I don’t want to be a doctor,” Drew said, echoing his little brother’s brave, tragic words. “I never did.”
Dr. W. Andrew Forbes stood from the table, balling up his napkin. “All right, I’m done with this. We paid a lot of money for you to go to medical school.”
“Do you want it back?” Drew said without so much as a flinch.
“I beg your pardon?” Dr. Forbes’s voice was cold steel.
“I could pay it back.” He shrugged, and it was like Kyle was standing there egging him on. “It might take a while, but if that’s important to you . . .”
“Drew,” his mother said, taking another tack. “You have too brilliant a mind—”
“To pursue the things I love?”
Their silence echoed through the room as he realized that’s what this was really about. He’d spent most of his life putting these people first, meeting all their expectations and demands. But they’d never once done the same for him. And certainly never his brother.
What they called “love” was a condition.
Kyle had always understood that.
But Drew was certain now that as strong as his brother was, it had still eaten away at him.
And these people weren’t worth it.
“You are a doctor,” his father finally snapped.
Drew’s mouth rose on one side as he gripped Rufus’s leash. “I was a doctor. But now I’m not. And I never will be again.” He took a deep gulp of air as soon as he said it, and it felt like his first breath. “Kyle had the right idea.”
“Your brother is dead,” his mother said, voice quavering like he’d just announced he was going to kill himself too. And then he realized that was how she saw it.
“He is. And I’m very much alive.” He shrugged. “But I guess whether you lose both your sons is up to you.”
“Is that a threat?” his father growled. And in a moment of pure poetry, Rufus looked at him and growled back.
“Get that animal out of here,” Dr. Patricia Forbes hissed.
“Easy . . .” Drew whispered to Rufus. Then an idea occurred to him, and he gave another command.
The dog looked up at him, probably thinking he hadn’t heard right.
Drew suppressed a smile and repeated himself.
Two seconds later, Rufus had sprung from the floor and was standing over the Cornish hens in the middle of the formal supper table.
Drew ignored his parents’ horrified gasps, carved some meat off a bird to reward the dog, then directed him back to the floor.
In testament to his agile grace, not a single dish or crystal glass had broken.
Not even Drew’s own chipped dinner plate.
Drew didn’t look back as he guided Rufus to the door. He wouldn’t waste another second on these people. He’d made mistakes—years and years of them. And it was far too late for Kyle to forgive him. But maybe there was still hope for his heart.