Chapter 22. Ethan
The reception area is colder than usual.
They've turned up the AC, or maybe it's just my skin.
The floor is the same blue-and-gray linoleum that runs everywhere in this building, worn to a shine in the center by decades of institutional shoes.
Above the front desk, there's a half-hearted attempt at a bulletin board, which currently features a single, curling poster about "Mindful Coping Skills" and a row of untouched pamphlets on how to avoid fentanyl.
I check my watch for the fifth time in three minutes.
No one says anything, but the secretary keeps darting glances over her glasses.
The clock on the wall is slow by at least thirty seconds.
I shift in the plastic chair, then stand, then sit again.
In the reflection of the security glass, I watch myself go through the motions: up, down, pacing, chewing the inside of my cheek so hard it's starting to bleed.
He's late. Not by much, but enough for me to already start thinking about possible disasters: van breakdown, transfer paperwork mix-up, Tyler refusing to get out of the car, Tyler running away from the county lockup and hitchhiking to Mexico, Tyler choking on his own tongue and dying in the back of the van while nobody noticed.
I dig my nails into the soft flesh of my palm.
Tyler steps out in a jacket and jeans, shuffling with that sullen gait of someone determined to prove how little he cares.
His hair is longer than I remember, brown waves going below his ears, those green eyes like mine, just a little darker, and he's paler than I remember.
Too skinny. His face is gaunt, almost skeletal.
The van driver gestures for him to move, and he does, but only after a pause.
He goes into the intake area, where they'll get his fingerprints, take his picture, make him sign stuff, pat him down, make him change into the institutional uniform, and give him toiletries. Make him forget he's an individual.
I wait until he's all done. I'm so wound up I'm physically shaking.
And then it happens. Tyler steps into the hallway where I’m waiting, and we see each other face-to-face. Brothers. After four years apart.
Tyler doesn't say anything. I want to say something, anything, but I don't trust my voice not to break. For a moment, it's just the sound of the AC and Tyler's breathing. He keeps his head down, and I'm grateful, because I can't bear the idea of him seeing the panic in my own face.
"I'm not gonna freak out," I say. "But if you want to talk, I'm here. No bullshit."
He barks a laugh, but it's got no humor. "You say that like you're not about to give me the world's biggest lecture."
"Not a lecture," I say, trying to keep it steady. "Just… a check-in."
He shrugs. "Fine. You want the story? I'll give you the unabridged version."
I brace.
"You want to know how bad it got?" he says. "I died, Ethan. I was gone for two minutes. The paramedics said my lips were blue. I had a tube down my throat and I didn't know where I was or who the fuck I was talking to."
There's a familiar taste in the back of my throat.
He looks at me. "You think this place is gonna fix me?"
"No," I say. "But it's not prison. And maybe it gives us time to figure out what's next. And I'm here."
He laughs again, and this time it's almost a sob. "Yeah. Time. I got all the time in the world now, don't I?"
I don't know what to say, so I just hold his gaze. I refuse to look away.
He breaks first, looking down at his hands. "Sorry," he mumbles, softer. "I know you didn't ask for this."
I want to tell him I'd do anything, take anything, be anything, if it meant not losing him. Instead, I say, "We're family. That's what we do."
He nods but doesn't look up. His hair falls in his face.
Then I shock even myself. I do something I never do, only with Liam, and I'd never have done it before him: I wrap my arms around him.
He goes stiff instantly, fight or flight, always, but I hold him there.
For a second I think he'll swing on me, or push me off, but he just stays, rigid as steel, until I feel the tremor run through his shoulders. He doesn't cry. I don't either.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you," I murmur. "Please forgive me."
He mutters, "Dude, get off, what the fuck. You gone soft?"
But he doesn't move, and I don't either. When I finally let go, he wipes at his nose like he's wiping sweat, then glares at the motivational poster on the wall like it personally insulted him.
"Dumbass," he says, but quieter now.
"Come on, I'll show you to your room," I tell him. We start walking down the hallway. We're silent at first, then he starts to make conversation, which is definitely progress.
"Are they freaks? The guys here."
I chuckle.
"Some of them," I admit. "Not the scary kind. Everyone's just a little fucked up in their own way."
He huffs, not quite a laugh. "Yeah, that's why Aunt said it was perfect for me."
I chuckle again, and he keeps talking.
"You got friends here? Or is everyone just scared of you, like at home?"
"Both, sometimes." I smile, and to my surprise he almost matches it. I'm way taller than him. He's almost the same height as Liam. "But… yeah. I've got a crew."
"Aunt… she said…" he starts and hesitates. But he finishes it: "You seeing anyone?"
That catches me off guard. "Uh, yeah. Kind of."
He grins, the familiar troublemaker grin. "Didn't think you had it in you, bro."
"It's complicated," I say, but I can't stop the smile from leaking onto my face. "But yeah. I'm happy."
For the first time there's a flicker of the kid I used to know on his face. "That's cool, man. Good for you." We let the words hang, then he says, "You think you're the only queer one in this family?" It's not a question so much as a dare.
I stare at him, gears grinding. "What?"
He shrugs. "Just saying. If you thought you were the lone rainbow sheep, you were wrong. I like both. Makes the math easier, you know?"
It's my turn to laugh, wild. "Does Aunt know?"
He shrugs again. "I told her once. She just said Jesus loves everybody equally, and that's not her place to judge."
I smile, and for a second the pressure in my chest lets go. "She's good like that."
We talk a little more. About the medication schedule, the rules, the dumb stuff like rec time and who to avoid in the yard. But mostly, it's just the two of us walking an ugly hallway.
At the end, I place a hand on his shoulder.
"Thanks, E," he says, quietly.
"I'm here for you, little bro," I reply. "I'm not going anywhere. You got me now."
He looks dead embarrassed, but I don't care. We keep walking in silence until Griff's office, where I knock and he says, "Come in."
He's behind his desk and smiles when he sees us. He gestures for us to sit, and I close the door behind us.
"Let's keep this simple," he says, looking straight at Tyler. "You know why you're here. I know why you're here. What matters now is what you do with the time."
Tyler shrugs. Griff's eyebrows don't move, unimpressed. "I've seen kids come in worse than you and walk out with a future. I've also seen them flame out. You get to decide which one you want to be."
Tyler looks down at his hands. "Is this the part where you lecture me about life choices?"
Griff laughs and sits back. "No lectures. You'll learn the rules soon enough. I just want you to know that I don't care about your record. You start fresh here. All I ask is that you show up. Participate. Don't make my life harder than it needs to be."
Tyler nods.
Griff turns to me. "He's your responsibility, Ethan. You'll be his leader." I nod, feeling my stomach churn. "And if he causes trouble, it's your ass."
"I know, sir," I say.
Griff nods, and he looks amused. Then he fixes his gaze on Tyler. "You ever done MMA, son?"
Tyler looks confused. "Like fighting?"
Griff smiles. "Mhm. We run a program here. Helps with discipline. Teaches control. Your brother is one of our best. I think it would do you good. You have to choose some form of exercise."
Tyler hesitates, then shrugs. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."
"Good," Griff says, then looks at me again. "He's in room 21. Will you take him there, please, Ethan?"
Room 21. I run through the roster in my head and my stomach flips.
21 is Reed's room. Reed, who's been looking for a reason to go nuclear since Mason left.
I almost open my mouth to protest, to ask for a reassignment, but the words don't come.
I just nod, jaw tight. He'll probably even get Mason's old bunk. Reed will not like that.
"Get him settled. And Ethan…" he says, "…keep him on a short leash. He's your responsibility," he repeats.
I nod, then hustle Tyler out of the office before the panic in my chest can get any louder.
In the hallway, the lights feel a little too bright.
I keep my hand on his shoulder, steering him down the maze of corridors, to the dorm wing, then the stairwell to the second floor. I pass my room and point to it.
"If you need anything, you can find me here," I tell him. He nods.
The doors are heavy and prison-like, with locks on the outside, with a little window for surveillance.
We stop at his room's door, and I hesitate for a second.
"It's Quiet Time. Three hours after lunch when we have to stay in our rooms. It's the only time we're really locked in, even at night the doors are unlocked for safety reasons.
So your roommate must be here. I have the keys because I'm a leader.
Your roommate is also a leader, so this will be good for you.
He has some privileges. They might help you. "
"Is he bad?" he asks. I want to nod but I shrug.
"Meh," I say, lying, then push it open.
Reed is inside, sitting at the desk with his feet up, flipping a pencil between his fingers. He looks up, eyes narrowing the instant he sees me. The tension in the room spikes.
His room is different from mine. He only has one roommate, two beds, one on each wall. He has a desk, and the room is a little bigger. All because he's the director's nephew and can do whatever he wants. It's so fucking unfair.
"Got you a new roommate," I say, keeping my tone light, even if I'm shaking.
Reed doesn't answer. He just looks at Tyler, slow, up and down, as if measuring him for a coffin. There's a long, ugly pause.
Tyler doesn't flinch. He just meets Reed's gaze, dead-on, and smirks. "Nice place."
Reed's jaw tenses. He glances at me, then back to Tyler. "You're in Mason's bed."
"Guess he won't be needing it," Tyler says.
Reed lets the pencil drop, and it rattles on the desk. "You touch any of my shit, I'll break your fingers," he says, voice flat.
"Cool," Tyler replies, already walking to the empty bed. "I'll keep that in mind."
I watch the exchange, heart pounding. Reed's anger is palpable, but Tyler's not the type to back down. I want to step between them, but I know that would only make it worse.
Instead, I clear my throat. "You need anything, Tyler, you come find me. Got it?"
He doesn't look up, just starts unpacking the plastic bag of essentials they gave him at check-in. Toothbrush, deodorant, a single pair of socks, a blank notebook. He's already moving like he's lived here for years.
Reed stands, stretching to his full height, and moves to the door. He stops next to me, close enough that I can smell the menthol on his breath.
"You think this is funny?" he whispers. "This fucking kid is taking Mason's place before Mason's scent has even faded."
"No, it's not funny," I say, matching his volume. We're almost the same height but he's a little taller. And he's stronger, bigger than me. "But you're going to deal with it. And don't you dare mess with my brother."
"Brother?" he scoffs. "You're a fucking Farley?" he asks Tyler.
"I mean it, Reed," I say, locking his gaze. He looks at me for a long time. Then he grunts and goes back to the desk where he was.
"I'll see you at snack," I tell Tyler. He nods, not even paying attention to me. He doesn't look scared, which is good.
But I'm still shaking.
I go back to my room and I'm barely holding it together. He's with Reed. He's looking sick as hell. He's my little brother.
When I open the door, everybody is there. Liam immediately sits up, cracking a huge grin. I feel my heart melting a little. I go sit on his bunk and he hugs me, tightly. Jack also sits up, on his bunk, in front of us, and asks, "How is he?"
"He's okay, I guess," I say, my voice cracking, Liam still holding me. The warmth of his arms is the only thing keeping me sane. Jack bounces his knee, waiting for more, his eyes wide. Miles doesn't look up from his book, but he's listening.
"He's in with Reed," I say, the words tasting sour.
Jack's eyebrows hit his hairline. "You're kidding. That's a death sentence."
"He'll be fine," I say, too quick and too loud, like if I say it enough I might start to believe it. "He's not… he's not like Mason. He won't take Reed's shit."
Jack leans back, shaking his head. "Poor bastard. Not even a grace period."
I don't have a response to that. Instead, I squeeze Liam's hand, anchor myself there. For a minute, it's quiet.
Liam finally lets go and shifts so he's sitting cross-legged on the bunk, facing me. "You want me to check on him? I can do recon. See if Reed's planning anything."
"No," I say. "I mean. Maybe. Just… be careful. Reed's got a thing about you, too."
He grins, mischievous. "He's obsessed with me. I'm irresistible."
"Ethan," Jack says, softer now. "You look like you're about to puke."
I scrub my hands over my face, trying to get a grip. "I just... I'm fine, I swear. I just need a minute."
"It'll be alright, Daddy. We're here with you," Liam tells me and lays his head on my shoulder. My heart tightens even more.