34. Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sam
T he sound of knocking fills the apartment. I groan and pull myself out of bed. Can’t a man wallow in peace?
My feet walk across the cold concrete floor, a reminder that I really need a rug. That reminder makes me think of Addie and how she’d complain every morning that her cold feet didn’t need the floor to be cold, too. What a fucking mess. It’s been, like, seven hours without her, and I’m already back to being a grouchy ass.
Swinging the door open, my eyes blink, and then blink again. What the fuck? Maybe I’m still sleeping and this is just a terrible dream.
“Good morning, little brother,” Cal sits in front of my door, wearing a long-sleeve T-shirt and jeans. The stubble on his face peeks through.
I rub my eyes, trying to shake off the fog. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, your girlfriend and my fiancée kicked me out of the house when I made too much noise in the kitchen this morning. Based on the state Addie was in, I figured now would be a good time to come check on you. I brought bagels and coffee.” He holds up a drink carrier and a brown paper sack.
“Fine. Give me that.” I swipe the coffee from him. If we’re holding full conversations on this little of sleep, I’ll need to be caffeinated. “How did you even know where I live?” None of my family has been by this apartment. A thought crosses my mind. I swear, if Addie told him where I live, I’m going to lose my shit.
“What, you think I haven’t kept tabs on you? You may not want me around, but I still like to make sure you’re doing all right. Speaking of, how are you holding up? Addie was still puffy-eyed when I left this morning.” He follows me into my apartment and closes the door behind him.
That means she must have gone straight to Isla. I hate how we left things last night. My chest constricts, but knowing she’s as miserable as I am brings me a bit of solace.
“That’s a little creepy you’re keeping tabs, but I’m fine.” Walking to the kitchen counter, I set the carrier of coffees down and pull one out. I prop myself against the counter to face him.
Cal is clearly not buying my story. “Yeah, the bags under your eyes are really helping sell that story.” His tone turns from sarcastic to inquisitive. “What happened?”
Not wanting to relive this or do this with him while being sleep-deprived, I wave him off with my free hand. “I’m sure she’s already told you.”
Cal puts down the bag of bagels on the counter. Guess he isn’t going anywhere. “Yeah, but I want to hear what you’re going through.”
My lack of sleep gets the better of me and I lash out. “It’s about ten years too late for you to start giving a shit about what I’m going through.”
He sighs, his hands resting against the edge of the countertop. His head drops between his shoulders. “I genuinely don’t understand why you hate me so much. What did I do to you?”
I push myself off the counter, wanting some distance. “It’s not what you did to me; it’s what you didn’t do. You and Liv were the apples of Dad’s eye, while I was the black sheep and part-time emotional punching bag for him.” Holding up my finger, I add on, “Never once did you stand up for me when he shit all over my choices.”
Cal sighs and shakes his head. Turning to face me, he says, “Sam, I can promise you, there is no golden anything in Dad’s eyes. He’s still hard on me and I’m just now learning how to stand up to him for myself.”
Rolling my eyes at his story, I say, “Bullshit. Like Dad’s ever said anything to you for you to have to fight back.”
“You’re right. He disrespected the woman that is going to be my wife, and that was the moment I realized I had to square up to him or it would always be like this.”
My eyes widen in surprise. I cool my features back down into neutrality because I’m sure that played out good for him.
“And, let me guess, he respected you for it? When I do it, all he sees is a child throwing a tantrum.” Crossing my arms, I shift uncomfortably on my feet. Of all the days we choose to do this, it has to be one where I’m already feeling like shit.
“You know what, Sam? Enough of this shit.” He holds up his hand and his tone steels. “Dad’s a dick to all of us. And I’m really, really sorry that I wasn’t the brother you needed me to be. But we all had our struggles with him.” He motions to his chest. “To this day, the pressure Dad puts on me feels so fucking heavy that I can’t breathe. The only reason he’s backed off is because Mom called him out on his shit. You’re not innocent, either. You completely blew off Liv’s wedding. What the fuck was that about?”
I blink at him, and I can see it now—the stress etched across his face. He hides it well, the weight of trying to be Dad’s perfect son. There’s a slow realization that I might actually be the asshole in this situation. Fuck me.
Uncrossing my arms, I let them and my defenses drop. I roll my neck because this feeling is repulsive. “I didn’t want to skip Liv’s wedding, but I couldn’t afford two weeks in Hawaii. I couldn’t even afford my life here, for that matter.”
Cal’s features drop and his tone softens. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Jerking my head back and throwing my arms in the air, I spit out, “What, go to Dad, who already thinks my career is a fucking joke because it wasn’t paying six-figures right out of school? I would literally rather play in rush hour traffic than ask that asshole for shit.”
He shakes his head and holds out his hands, motioning to himself. “Not Dad, Sam. Me. I would have helped you. I don’t give a shit what you do for a living. If you’re happy, then great. That’s what matters. Plus, from what you’ve told me, you’re kicking ass.”
He pats my arm and then drops it. “I know you are the youngest head chef that Flambé has ever had. You’re great at what you do. That was always you and Mom’s thing, and I’m glad she got someone with the same passions as her. She misses you, too, you know.” A small, polite smile finds his lips.
The fact that he’s looked into it enough to know that I’m the youngest head chef means more to me than he’ll ever know. All of this sends my brain into overdrive. I miss Mom, too. I miss Sundays in the kitchen, cooking up family dinner. Not that I’d tell him, but there are times I’ve missed the man in front of me.
I’ve wanted this for years. To feel like a part of my family and not just a stain to the Reynolds’s family business reputation. Where the fuck do we go from here?
Breaking the staring contest I’m having with the floor, I look up at Cal. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“I’m sorry, Sam. I should have tried harder. I’m not trying to excuse my actions, but we are all going through things no one knows about. Just because we carry it well, doesn’t make it a light load. Dad is a lot. And he is trying to get better. I think he knows he’s going to end up in that big, old house all alone if he doesn’t figure it out.”
“So, Mom ripped his ass, huh? Worse than our last family dinner?” The thought brings a smile to my face.
Cal’s features light up. “I’m not even exaggerating when I say it was the best day of my life. I was so pissed then, but watching Dad cower was pretty nice. I wish I had a picture of his face. It would heal all of our collective childhood traumas.” The lighthearted sentence strikes a chord with me.
Damn, I’ve kind of been a selfish asshole in this. Actually, we all have been, but not intentionally. We were all just dealing with the cards of our shitty deck. Regret and remorse wash through me at all the time I’ve lost by being bitter instead of just talking about it. Why am I such a freaking idiot sometimes?
“So, are we good?” He holds his hand out for me to shake, and it reminds me of a couple months ago, when he tried to go for a hug, but I was being a dick and shut him down. If we’re going to move on, I need to try, too.
Grabbing his hand, I pull and then drop it to lift my arms around him. Cal stiffens around my hug before returning it. For a second, it feels like we're kids again, and all I need in the world is my big brother to make shit okay.
I let go. Because all these emotions make me feel icky, and there’s been enough of that in the last twenty-four hours.
“We’re good.” While it will take time for the last couple years of bullshit to fade, we’re on good terms for the first time in forever.
“All right. Now, let’s get back to why I came.”
Fuck. Here I thought I was done having to share my feelings.
“This impromptu visit is starting to feel like an interrogation about my feelings. We know I don’t do feelings. It’s too Doctor Phil-y.” I motion to the chairs, so we can settle in. If I’m being forced to share my feelings, I can at least be comfortable while doing it.
He shoots me a wide grin. “Well, good news. There are no cameras. So, you can cry as much as you want to.” I punch his arm and he laughs.
“So, what happened?” The fucker really isn’t dropping it.
A sigh leaves me as I tilt my head back. “She was ashamed of me. Maybe not intentionally, but she was. She didn’t fucking tell Isla. Like, what is so wrong with me that you can love me, but not want your closest friend to know?”
“She could have just been waiting to make sure it was the real deal. If I had to guess, she was worried she was going to fuck it up. Even if she did it for the wrong reasons, you’re going to have to learn that the people we love make mistakes, too. She may be perfect in your eyes, but she’s still human. Give her the grace you would want if this was you.”
His words ring true. My mind goes through all the conversations she and I have had, and I think back to Valentine’s Day, with her at the bar and where her head was at. I guess I just assumed she was doing better. She seemed happier. Hell, I know I’ve been happier since her. But the thing about doubt is, it festers and is hard as hell to let go of. That’s a feeling I’m all too familiar with. Maybe I was a little too harsh.
We sit in comfortable silence for a second, while I get ahold of my thoughts. “So, where do we go from here?” If someone would have told me yesterday that I would be asking my brother for relationship advice, I would have thought they were high.
“That’s for you to decide; I can’t make those calls for you. Listen to your gut. You know her better than I do.”
“Super helpful. Thank you.” But it is, because my gut knows exactly what it wants to do. I fucking miss her already and it’s only been hours. The thought of having to miss her the rest of my life feels crippling.
“Well, I’m not actually Dr. Phil. So, don’t expect so much. Now, eat your bagel and drink your coffee. You look like shit.”
First, I flip him the bird, and then I do as told because I am starving.
“Worst therapist ever.” I smirk as I bring my coffee to my lips.
“The other part of the reason I was coming is to see if you wanted to be a groomsman. I didn’t want to ask through text, and you ignored all my calls.” His disdain rings through his voice and I can’t help but feel a bit guilty.
My eyes go wide. “Seriously? You want me to be up there with you?” Warmth travels across my chest and I feel my eyes burn.
Cal smiles and pats my shoulder. “Yeah, you’ve always been my brother, whether it was against your will or not. I’d love to have you up there. I know you hate people and attention. So, I won’t be offended if you say no.”
I swallow to hide the emotion balling in my throat. “Of course. I’d be honored.” There’s more I want to say, but crying like a little bitch in front of my big brother is the last thing I want to do today.
Cal nods with a smile. “Great. Are you sure you’re doing okay? I can hang around a while if you want some company or to talk?” My head starts shaking by the end because I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Too much has gone on in the last day, and I need a minute to catch my breath.
He responds with a nod of his head and taps the table twice. “Well, I’m going to run. If you need anyone to talk to, feel free to call or stop by.”
“I’ll do that.”
We start standing and I make my way to the door to let him out. He gives me a quick pat on the back before he starts down the hall.
“Hey, Cal?”
“Yeah?” He turns on his heels, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“I’m sorry, too.” I’m coming to realize none of us were innocent in our fallouts. His words echo around in my head. Even those that love you are going to fuck up. Guess it wasn’t too late for a big brother pep talk, after all.
“It’s all water under the bridge, little brother.” His warm smile lets me know he means it. Before turning back around and heading out, he points at me. “You should call Liv. Mom and I aren’t the only ones who miss you. And she deserves the truth.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that.”
We wave again, and for the first time in a long time, I feel that piece of me settle. The one that felt left out and like never enough. I revel in that for a second before pulling out my phone. It appears today will be full of mending bridges.