I paused, half of me wanting to be alone and half of me relieved to have someone to talk things over with. “No. Not really.”
“I’m sorry, Tyler.”
“I am too. I might…I might need to head back a little earlier than planned.”
Brady looked up at me. “I can take care of my mom. You don’t have to stay another day if you don’t want to.”
“Brady.” Liz frowned at him.
“What? He doesn’t. He can leave now if he wants.”
“That’s not what I want,” I said. “I’m just saying I might head back before the end of the month since Dad’s coming back early.”
“And I’m just saying you don’t have to wait for him. If you want to go back, go back. Now.”
“Brady!” Liz exclaimed.
But my brother just stared at me, as though he had drawn a line in the dirt and dared me to step across.
The stress of the day overcame me. I could not stand another minute of the tension, especially as I had tried every angle I could think of to appease him.
“I’m really sorry I am such a dunce that I can’t figure out what I did to make you mad at me, Brady. I’ve tried to understand your behavior toward me, I really have, but I just can’t. You’re going to have to tell me.”
With a grunt, he turned his attention back to the TV. But I wasn’t going to be put off that easily.
“I’ve only ever wanted to be a good brother to you.”
“That is such a lie.”
I could barely believe I heard him right. “I beg your pardon?”
“Brady, Tyler, I want you both to stop for a minute—” Liz pushed herself up on the couch, but Brady and I ignored her.
“You heard what I said. That’s a lie.” Brady turned toward me, his gaze steel on mine.
No one had ever called me a liar before. Ever. The accusation cut like a knife. Especially coming from my own brother.
“When have I ever lied to you? About anything?” I demanded.
He shook his head, a wounded half smile on his face, as if everything that came out of my mouth was a laughable but painful joke. “Go home, Tyler. Really. Just go home. It’s obvious you want to. Just go.” He stood and brushed past me to leave the room.
“Brady!”
He spun around, eyes blazing. “What?”
“Talk to me!”
“Fine.” He stepped forward, his neck suddenly bulging and red with rage. “You want to know the truth? You want to know what I’m so mad about?”
“Yes. Please.”
His eyes narrowed, and as I peered into them I realized that there was something else behind the anger. Pain. Hurt.
“All these years,” he said in a voice low but strained, “my whole life, I thought Dad abandoned you in Pennsylvania, that he just went off and left you with your grandparents. For years I’ve blamed him that I never had a brother growing up because I thought it was his fault.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, hoping the calm in my voice would calm him down as well. I bore my father no ill will for what had happened. I wanted him to sense that.
“Don’t you get it, man? I’ve been blaming Dad. For years. Until I learned the truth.”
“The truth?”
“That you were the one, not him. You decided to stay. He asked you to come with him and Mom, but you said no. It’s your fault I grew up without a big brother around, your fault I’m practically an only child.”
With that, he turned and left the room. I just stood there, the full force of his words falling onto me like a crushing weight.
I had done to my dad—and by default to my brother—what my dad had done to me. I had relinquished him. Walked away from him.
I wanted to call after Brady now, to say something, but no words would come.
Clarity pummeled me. It all made sense. All of it.
In all of these years, I’d never once considered how the choice I’d made at the age of eleven affected my family—my father and my brother and even my stepmother. But I realized now that the hurt had gone both ways.
They hadn’t just abandoned me. I had rejected them.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Oh, Tyler, I’m so sorry,” Liz whispered from the couch.
I turned to her, still stunned and nearly speechless
My mind raced as I tried to decide what to do next. Go after my brother? Give him a chance to cool off first?
“Why don’t you just sit down here for a minute,” she said, as if reading my mind. I met her eyes and saw that they were shimmering with tears for her son and maybe for me too.
After a moment’s hesitation, I did as she asked, taking a seat beside her on the couch.
“I’m sure Brady hasn’t stopped to realize you were just a child back then.”
I shook my head. “No, Liz, in a way he’s right. I did make a choice. And that choice affected him. I just never realized it until now.”