Chapter 35 Austin
THIRTY-FIVE
AUSTIN
The car idled for a full minute before I finally killed the engine.
Downtown Star Harbor hadn’t changed in the thirty minutes I’d been circling it.
Same green awnings over the Crooked Spine, same bike rack still missing a bolt, same tilted campaign sign for the mayor’s reelection propped outside the hardware store.
I’d meant to stop in—I needed sandpaper or caulk or something equally unimportant—but instead I parked two spaces past the bakery and just sat there.
The streets were quiet in that lazy Saturday way.
Slow and unhurried. A couple of kids zipped past on scooters.
Someone had chalked a hopscotch board on the sidewalk near the mailbox, the colors soft and dusty from wear.
The air smelled like dead leaves and exhaust, sun-warmed pavement, and the icy drag of winter creeping closer.
I hadn’t eaten. I couldn’t eat. There was still a half-crushed protein bar in the console, but the thought of chewing made my stomach flip.
Across the street, the bell above the bakery door jingled and a family stepped out—a woman, a man, and a little girl with dark hair and freckles along her nose. She looked about Winnie’s age, maybe younger, with a messy braid and cookie crumbs clinging to her shirt.
She held up a half-eaten sugar cookie in one hand, the other tucked securely in her dad’s. Her voice carried across the street in bursts—telling a story with wild hand gestures and animated eyebrows, completely unaware of the world around her.
The mom smiled, brushing crumbs from the girl’s cheek with her thumb. The dad leaned down to say something only they could hear, and the girl tipped her head back in a full-bellied giggle.
They walked off, just like that. Three people, one unit. Easy. Unbroken.
A burn started behind my eyes, sharp and immediate. I blinked it back.
That should’ve been me.
Not the bakery, not the cookie. Just the together part. Winnie bouncing between us, arms flung around Selene’s waist. Me holding a backpack, Selene carrying a bag of cookies she’d insist was a “business expense.”
I used to picture that without even meaning to. I would go to sleep thinking about it and wake up hoping I hadn’t dreamed it.
And now?
I didn’t even know if Selene would look at me again. If Winnie would forgive me.
I turned toward the passenger seat, suddenly desperate for something—anything—to hold on to. That was when I saw the photo, still tucked partway under the visor where I’d shoved it.
I pulled it down carefully, like it might shatter. A printed snapshot, sun-faded around the edges. My dad in uniform, grinning at someone off camera, looking proud and half cocky the way guys do before the world wears them down.
He looked young. Younger than I am now.
I stared at the photo for a long time, like it might answer the question I couldn’t even say out loud.
How do you come back from fucking up the best thing in your life?
He didn’t answer, of course. Dad just smiled that same frozen smile, stuck in time.
I leaned my head back against the headrest, closed my eyes, and let the silence settle.
A couple passed on the sidewalk—a guy with a stroller, his partner walking beside him with a to-go coffee—and they didn’t even glance at me.
Why would they? I was just a guy sitting alone in a parked car, creepily watching other people live the life I wanted.
I’d had it. I’d had everything worth looking at, and I let it walk away.
I didn’t remember driving home. All I recalled was the ache in my jaw from clenching my teeth and the imprint of that photo still burned into my palm.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, the sun was sagging behind the trees.
Shadows stretched long across the gravel, and the breeze had picked up, rustling the edges of Selene’s wind chimes like they couldn’t decide on a melody.
The porch light on my side flicked on automatically, too early, casting a sharp triangle of gold across the siding.
I didn’t go inside right away.
I didn’t want to be back in that empty house with too much quiet and the hum of guilt ricocheting off the walls. I sank down onto the top step, elbows on my knees, and let the weight of the day press down on me like a second skin.
The screen door creaked open behind me.
Brody didn’t say anything as he stepped out, just handed me a coffee—black, still hot, still somehow perfect.
I took it without a word.
He lowered himself onto the step beside me, letting out a sigh that sounded like it came from somewhere deeper than his lungs.
“Isn’t going into someone’s home without permission breaking and entering?” I asked.
He scoffed and looked at me. “Fuck off. I have a key.” His legs stretched in front of him as we stared into the lawn. “Besides, I saw you parked downtown,” he said finally, voice low and even.
I shrugged. “I didn’t feel like being here.”
He nodded like he understood but still had questions. “You were in front of the bakery for almost forty minutes.”
I grunted. “I wasn’t counting.”
He sipped. “You looked like shit.”
I scoffed. “That’s because I feel like shit.”
His brow twitched in what might’ve been sympathy. Or amusement. Maybe both. “Heard there might be a little riff between you and Selene.”
I shook my head as sarcasm dripped from my tongue. “Good news travels fast, apparently.”
Brody shrugged. “It’s a small town. What did you expect?” His legs stretched out in front of him, and he sighed. “So your plan is to sit here feeling sorry for yourself all night?”
My eyes twitched toward Selene’s half of the duplex. “I don’t know what else to do.”
Brody didn’t answer right away. He stared out at the street, eyes narrowed like he was watching something far off. Then he took another drink, set the mug down beside him, and leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs.
“Did you cheat on her?” he asked.
My head whipped to the side. “What? Fuck, no. I’m not a total idiot.”
Brody nodded as though he liked that answer. “So what then?”
“I promised Selene and Winnie I’d see her kindergarten performance, but I blew it.
I was late and missed the whole thing.” I exhaled hard, guilt tightening like a belt around my ribs.
“You called and I stayed at the station longer than I should’ve,” I admitted, voice rough.
“I thought—I don’t know—I thought I could do both.
Be the guy who shows up for everyone. Be the kind of brother you want around. ”
Brody looked surprised, but he nodded slowly, his jaw flexing.
Fuck it, might as well lay it all out there.
“I like being near you,” I added, quieter now. “After everything with Dad . . . and growing up the way I did . . . I didn’t want to mess it up. Not with you finally letting me in.”
Brody turned his head, met my eyes. “You can’t mess that up, Austin.”
I let out a breathless laugh. “Can’t I?”
“You could’ve said something.” His voice was firm but not cruel. “You should’ve told me. Hell, I would’ve understood. You didn’t have to choose.”
I rubbed my hands over my face. “I didn’t want to let you down. We were talking and laughing and then . . . I lost track of time and it all went sideways.”
“You wouldn’t have let me down,” he said, shrugging. “But you did let her down. That’s the part you have to own.”
Silence settled between us, sharp and clean.
Then Brody softened, barely. “You’re always going to be my brother. That doesn’t change. Even when you fuck up. Hell, especially then.”
Love for my brother filled my chest. I shook my head and scoffed under my breath. “You think Selene wants anything to do with me right now?”
“You’re not the first guy to screw up a good thing with her,” he said quietly. “But you might be the first one who gives a damn enough to fix it.” He shrugged. “She might not forgive you today. Maybe not even tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean you stop trying.”
“I said I love her,” I murmured, voice breaking on the edge of it. “I practically yelled it in her face. It was so desperate.” I laughed at myself for how epically poorly timed it had been. “But I meant it. Somehow I still blew it.”
Brody glanced sideways. “You think saying it is what counts the most?”
I blinked. “Isn’t it?”
He shook his head, slow and sure. “Love’s not just the saying-it part. It’s what you do after the screwup. When it’s hard. When it’s inconvenient. When it costs you something. That’s where it lives.” He took a sip of his coffee. “At least . . . that’s my best guess, anyway.”
I stared down at the coffee cup, the heat long gone from the ceramic. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
“You don’t,” he said simply. “Not all at once.”
I eyeballed him. “So then what?”
Brody stood, his boots scuffing the wood.
He looked at me like he saw right through the mess I was, straight into whatever pieces were still salvageable underneath.
“You start by doing what Dad didn’t. You start showing up, and then you keep showing up.
Prove that you meant it when you told her you loved her .
. . even if you did yell it in her face. ”
He turned and walked back inside, letting the screen door ease shut behind him.
I sat there for a long time, the quiet heavier than before—but different. Less suffocating. Like silence that waits for something new to begin.
I looked down at my phone, at the empty screen, at the string of unanswered texts I hadn’t sent yet.
Then I stood up.
Time to prove I was a man of my word.