“I’m just so fucking glad you got over your stupid crush on him.” Dylan cut me off. “Nathan is a tool, and you can do so much better than him.”
“Um, I don’t know about that but—”
“And it would’ve totally fucked up our friendship dynamic. I don’t think I could look at you the same way if you lost yourself on that asshole.”
“Okay, now you’re just being mean. He’s your brother. Nathan’s not all bad.”
“Shit. Are you kidding me?” Dylan looked at me like I’d been taken over by a body snatcher. “You’re still hung up on him? He’s an asshole, Maddie.”
“So what if I am? He’s a great guy. You know that. I get that you guys get on each other’s nerves but that doesn’t mean—”
“This is a little more than getting on my nerves. He’s acting like he’s my father. That he knows best, and I should just shut up and follow his lead. It’s bullshit.”
I sighed. I knew better than most how authoritative Nathan could get. Case in point our first night in bed where he pretty much ran the whole show. Not that I was complaining. It’d been magical.
Crap, I couldn’t think about that now. I was supposed to be helping Dylan, not fantasizing about his most hated brother and the dirty, dirty things he’d done to me the last two nights.
I cleared my throat. “I’ve already told you what I think, Dyl. You need to tell your brothers what’s going on. I know you’re worried they won’t underst—”
“They won’t understand shit.” Dylan cut in, frustration bleeding into his tone. “You should’ve heard Nathan today going on about how irresponsible I’ve been. And how pissed he still is about the whole Dad thing. If I told them about the Kings and what I’ve been… They won’t understand.”
“’The whole Dad thing’? Seriously, Dyl?” I boggled at him. “He burned down your aunt’s restaurant and almost killed Sabrina!”
“I didn’t have anything to do with that!”
His whole poor-me routine was seriously starting to piss me off. He was an adult; he needed to accept his part in the whole shitshow.
“But you spoke up at his parole hearing beforehand. You’re a big part of the reason that he was paroled in the first place.”
“I know that! I don’t need another fucking lecture in all the ways I’ve screwed up. Believe me, I know.” His voice broke and he took a few breaths before he could continue. “I paid for that decision within weeks of him getting out, and I’m still paying for it.”
The despair in his voice killed me. He was my best friend, and I hated to see him hurting. But I could also see it from Nathan and the other guys’ point of view. Dylan betrayed them in one of the worst ways. That wasn’t magically going to go away.
But his ‘still paying for it’ comment rang alarm bells in my head. “What do you mean still paying for it? I thought you said they were going to let you off the hook after that last run?”
“I don’t wanna talk about that here.” He craned his neck, looking at our surroundings like someone could’ve been eavesdropping on us. Finally he sat back with a sigh. “It’s not over though. The fuckers have me by the short hairs and they know it.”
“Dylan.” My heart sank. He was neck deep in this shit—there was no other way to phrase it. “There’s no end in sight? What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Knuckles said one more run, but he said that the last time. I don’t know if they’ll ever let me go.”
“Shit.” That sinking feeling came back. “I know you’re going to hate me for saying it again, but you have to talk to your brothers. They’d be able to help you.”
Dylan made another scoffing sound. Like he couldn’t trust his brothers. Like it was hopeless. “They hate me enough as it is. They won’t want anything to do with me if they find out everything I’ve done.”
I bit back the urge to defend Nathan to him. I knew his brother—all his brothers—loved him despite the mistakes he’d made lately. But Dylan wouldn’t want to hear it, especially any defense of Nathan. “Ryan would. I bet if you talk to him, he could get your brothers to come around. He got all you guys to go to anger management, remember?”
Dylan kicked at a pebble. “He’s not even talking to me.”
“Wait, what? Since when?” The two were usually thick as thieves, plotting pranks on their brothers and confiding in each other. When did that change, and why hadn’t Dylan said anything?
“Pretty much since Sabrina was in the hospital.” Dylan lifted a shoulder and watched a bee buzz around us. “There’s this tension every time I get together with my brothers. Like they’re blaming me for all the shit that’s happened. But no one talks about it. Especially Ryan.”
“Well, what did he say when you apologized? Did he want time to think things through? I bet if you bring it up to him, he’d be willing to talk to you again. It’s just awkward because you’re letting it stew.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw as he studiously watched the bee and avoided looking at me. My suspicions grew.
“You did apologize to your family, didn’t you?” I paused and took in his guilty expression. “Seriously, Dylan?”
“I know. I know!” He stood up and paced the space in front of the bench. “It’s just—It’s not easy!”
“Of course it’s not.” I watched him, concerned at the amount off anger he was holding onto. And pain. So much pain. He had so many scars on the inside; he was like a walking wound. “But you need to.”
“They don’t know, okay? They
