22. Chapter 22
Hunter
I slide into the booth, back to the door, setting my helmet beside me. Across the table, Garrett holds out the pot of coffee.
“Water’s fine.” I grab the glass in front of me, downing half of it, my gaze never leaving my brother. He looks . . . good. Tired, but not broken. His shirt’s a bit wrinkled, grease stain on the cuff of his jacket.
Garrett refills his cup, then puts the pot down. “Surprised you agreed to meet.”
“Have my reasons.”
The day after my brother showed up, I checked campus for his truck. There was no sign of it. Or him. Later that night I rode through town, even hit the hotels near the airport. Came up empty again.
So, I reached out.
Garrett responded he’d be in New York for the week and was staying at a hotel thirty minutes away. I wasn’t letting him move around unchecked, so I borrowed Rua’s Jeep a few times to keep track of him.
My brother mostly stayed at the hotel, leaving only to grab food. Except for the one day he took the train into the city. He also texted me daily. Mostly small talk. I ignored him. Until the reminder I had set for my uncle's parole hearing came through.
It’s a year away.
The trial didn’t go the way it should have.
The defense attorney tore apart everything Atlas and I said, and my uncle ended up with a reduced sentence.
The fuck needs to rot in prison, and since my brother wasn’t there the first time, he might be useful in keeping the bastard behind bars.
So, when Garrett asked me to meet him for lunch, I agreed.
My brother looks at my helmet. “What are you riding?”
“Kawasaki ZX-14R.”
He whistles low. “That's a lot of bike. You running premium?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Those inline-fours run hot if you cheap out on fuel.” He adds creamer and two packets of sugar to his coffee. “Watch the front sprocket. Teeth start hooking, replace them. Don't wait. They wear faster than people think.”
I grunt.
He lifts the mug, takes a sip, then sets it down. “You plan on talking?”
My eyes meet his as I set my glass down.
Garrett just shakes his head, signals for the waitress, then reaches for his hat. “Forgiving me is your choice, but I’m not gonna sit here and let you grill me, Hunt.”
“Stay.”
“Hunter—”
“So, you’re a mechanic.” It was on the card he gave me.
Garrett settles back into the booth, tapping the handle of the mug. “Yeah. Pays decent and I like working with my hands.”
I hum in agreement. Working on my bike some days is almost therapeutic—when Atlas isn’t there. He can’t stand silence and needs to fill it with his voice. Even talks over the fucking music.
My molars grind. Hated lying to Atlas about where I was going today. But he wouldn’t understand. Even if it was to help us both.
The door chimes, and Garrett looks over my shoulder. I twist, gaze locking on an elderly couple walking in.
My brother huffs. “Old habits, eh?”
I grunt, scanning the rest of the diner again before turning back to face my brother. I grab the menu and flip through, finding what I want just as the waitress approaches.
She refills my water, then pulls out a pen and pad. “So, what can I get you two?”
“Western omelet. Hash browns. Rye toast.” Garrett hands her his menu.
“Scrambled eggs. Hash browns. Four strips of bacon. Same toast.”
Garrett taps the edge of the table as she walks away, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Breakfast for lunch. Just like old times.”
After grabbing the glass of water and drinking it all, I set it back down. “When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow.” He picks at the edge of a sugar packet. “Got work. And Natalie would lose it if this turned into a trip without her.”
I blink once, letting go of the glass. “Natalie?”
“My girlfriend.” His gaze drops back to the mug between his hands. “Wish I were in a place where I could offer more than that. Maybe one day. She deserves it.”
I drag my thumb along the edge of the table, jaw clenching.
As if our father left either of us capable of being what someone deserves.
The waitress returns and sets two plates down. “Western omelet and scrambled eggs with bacon. Can I get you boys anything else?”
“More water when you get a chance.” I pull my plate closer.
“Of course.” She turns to my brother. “Anything else for you?”
“No, thank you, ma’am.”
After she leaves, Garrett cuts into the omelet and takes a bite. “What about you? Dating anyone?”
“No.” I shove a piece of bacon into my mouth.
Garrett wipes his mouth and sets his fork down. “Don’t let how we grew up—”
“Don’t need your advice.”
Garrett shakes his head and takes a sip of coffee as I shovel eggs into my mouth.
No need to talk about relationships. I don’t do them.
And I don’t plan for the future either. Right here, right now, that’s my concern.
Except, I fucked up touching Atlas the other night.
I couldn’t pull my hand back. Couldn’t stop myself from reaching.
Lost my damn mind, and control over my body too, thrusting into Jenkins like a goddamn animal.
Didn’t check to make sure he was okay after. I should have.
I exhale a long breath through my nose, stabbing at the hash browns.
Then again, he'd try to make good on that promise if I had hurt him. My mouth ticks up on one side.
Garrett chuckles. “So there is someone, eh?”
I look up, eyes narrowing when I spot the shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “None of your business.”
“Mhm.”
I put my fork down, not bothering to look up when the waitress refills my glass of water. “Why now?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you come looking for me now?”
Garrett finishes chewing, then wipes his mouth.
“Wanted to get myself right first. Took time. Went through a few therapists at the community clinics until I found one I connected with. Took meds for a bit too. Found a job and saved some money. I didn’t want to show up looking like I was asking for a handout either. ”
He was worried about showing up when he was broke?
“It wasn't easy, Hunt.”
“No shit.”
Therapy didn’t work when the Trembleys sent me. It didn’t stop the nightmares, didn’t stop me from needing to have eyes on Atlas all the time, so I could keep him safe. Didn’t stop the darkness scratching under my skin.
I grab my glass of water and take a swig.
“You good, Hunter?”
I set down the glass and look him dead in the eyes. “Wade's parole hearing is next year. I’m not letting him get out.”
The color drains from Garrett’s face, the fork falling from his hand. He clears his throat, cleaning up the morsels of food that scattered onto the table. “How you planning on stopping it, eh?”
“Atlas and I will be there, but the board has never heard from you. If you stand in front of them and tell them what happened that night—and the other nights—he stays in.”
“Is that why you came here?”
I nod.
“And here I thought maybe my brother might actually want to reconnect.” He huffs, shaking his head. “I’m such a goddamn fool.”
“Garrett.”
“I'll think about it.”
“Not an option.”
Garrett leans in, eyes narrowed. “I've got Natalie to think about too, Hunt. This isn't just about your goddamn friend.”
It is about Atlas. Always will be. But, if this were reversed, I wouldn’t agree to anything either until I made sure Atlas was safe.
I nod. “Fine.”
Garrett holds up his hand signaling the waitress for the bill, then grabs his cap and puts it on. “Thanks for meeting me today.”
“I got the bill.”
He ignores me, pulling cash from his back pocket, then lays it on the table. “Don’t need a handout, little brother. We split it, eh.”
My thumb traces the puckered skin running along my wrist as a lump forms in my throat. Garrett stopped calling me that when I turned thirteen.
The waitress places the bill on the table. “Hope you boys enjoyed the food!”
Garrett smiles. “Yes, ma’am. It was perfect.”
“Well, you two enjoy the rest of your day.” She walks down the row, stopping at another table.
My brother stands and looks down at me. “Keep in touch, Hunt.”
“You too.”
He nods, then walks away, the chime above the door sounding a few seconds later.
I watch through the window as he climbs into his pickup, then pulls away.
Maybe I can talk to someone again. Try new people ‘til I find the right one like Garrett did. Maybe even consider the medication this time.
And maybe I could have my brother back. Not the way it used to be when we were young.
But close.