Chapter 12
Kade
Staring at the text I just sent her, I wait for a response. She’s read it—I can see the ticks—but nothing comes through.
Fuck.
Maybe I shouldn’t have had so much to drink tonight.
I thought about going to The Rig, but once I heard that’s where Cameron was taking her, I bailed.
Figured twelve beers at home sounded like a better idea.
Now here I am, slouched on my couch with beer number six. Or maybe seven. Who the hell knows.
Before I can spiral too far into pathetic territory over a girl I’ve got no right thinking about, there’s a loud knock at the door.
I push up from the couch, giving myself a second to steady my feet before shuffling toward it.
When I swing it open, I’m greeted by the annoyed glare of my younger brother, Conrad. He’s the baby of the family—came along seven years after Aubrey, just when our parents thought they were done.
“Jesus. You look like shit,” he says, brows raised.
I grip the edge of the doorframe and slur slightly, “Hi.”
“You drunk?” he shoots back, brushing past me like he owns the place. He walks into the living room and stops dead at the sight of all the empty bottles. “What the hell, man? What time did you even start?”
I kick the door shut behind me and follow him in, dragging a hand down my face as he drops onto the opposite couch with a groan.
I sit and offer him a beer, which he takes and cracks open without hesitation. So what if he’s not technically old enough—if he doesn’t drink it, I will.
“What are you doing here, Conrad?” I ask, leaning back into the couch.
“I just needed to get out of the house,” he mutters. “Lucy and I had a big fight, and she stormed out and went back to her parents. Then Mom and Dad started asking questions, sticking their noses in… I just needed some air.”
He stares down at his feet like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
We’ve always been close. There might be ten years between us, but I’ve looked out for him his whole life. Made sure he knew he could always come to me if he needed anything. So I set my beer down—he needs me more than I need to drown in another drink tonight.
He’s eighteen. High school’s almost over. He’s got choices to make, about his future, about Lucy, the girl he’s been with since they were kids.
“You want to talk about it?” I ask, giving him the space to decide.
He lets out a breath. “Dad keeps going on about me working for you and Brandon. Like it’s already decided. But I’m not sure I want to do that, and he won’t listen. I’ve got dreams of my own, and construction just… isn’t one of them. No offense.”
I hold up my hands up. “Hey, none taken. So, what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know exactly.” He rubs his hands together, as if he does already know but he doesn’t want to say.
“Lucy and I talked about some options, and now she’s pissed.
I said I might not want to stay in Mayridge.
I want a job that lets me travel, see the world and I want to make a difference, you know?
And I guess that’s not what we always talked about. She thinks I lied.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, shoulders slumped in defeat.
I study him for a second. His face is all twisted up, like he’s already convinced himself he’s messed everything up just by wanting something different.
“Look,” I say, leaning forward, elbows on my knees to mirror him. “You’re allowed to change your mind. About your future, about where you want to live, hell even about who you want to be. That’s not lying. That’s growing up.”
He doesn’t look at me, just picks at the label on the beer bottle in his hands.
“I get why Lucy’s upset,” I go on. “She probably had a picture in her head, something settled, something close. And you changing the plan feels like a threat to that. But you’re not doing anything wrong by wanting more.”
“So, what do I do?” he mutters. “Pick between her and what I want?”
“No,” I say firmly. “You don’t make it about choosing one or the other. You talk to her. Really talk. If she loves you, she’ll want to understand, even if it takes her a minute. And if she doesn’t want to figure it out with you… then maybe she’s not your person.”
He flinches at that, but he needed to hear it.
“And as for Dad,” I add, cracking my neck with a sigh, “he’s gonna keep pushing for what makes him comfortable. You just have to be clear. Respectful, sure—but firm. You don’t owe anyone your life.”
Conrad’s quiet for a beat, then glances over at me. “You ever want something that maybe you shouldn’t? Like… it’s probably not a good idea, and people could get hurt if you go after it?”
The question lands harder than it should, digging right under my skin—too close to something I’ve been trying not to name all night.
“Yeah,” I say finally, voice low. “I have.”
He looks surprised I admitted it. I don’t blame him. I don’t usually let people see past the surface.
“What should I do?” he asks.
I shrug, eyes on the label I’m peeling off my own bottle. “You think about the cost. You think about who you might hurt, and why you want it in the first place. And if it’s just about you… maybe you walk away.”
“And if it’s more than that?”
I glance at him, jaw tense. “Then you make damn sure you’ve made the right decisions before chasing it. You don’t get to wreck other people just because you’re confused. That’s the line.”
He nods, quiet again, but I can tell he’s mulling it over.
So am I.
Because the truth is, I don’t know where that line is with Liv anymore. All I know is I’m toeing it, and I don’t think I have it in me to walk away.