I watch James and the children walk away until they disappear from view, and only once they're out of earshot does my brother open his mouth.
"You're a dad now, huh…?"
"Well, shit happens."
Bryan doesn't comment, only nodding. He's not insensible enough to probe further; he knows what shit I'm talking about, it's the one he ran away from.
Still, he can't help but lower his gaze, and I catch a glimpse of him staring at my wedding ring.
He doesn't bring up the marriage of convenience, but I'm sure he can do one plus one and get the gist of how I've become a dad. It's quite simple, really; the little gremlins are a luggage that comes with the husband, take or give.
"…"
Now, what?
A silence has already fallen between us, and we've only exchanged two sentences, damn it.
It's good that we get some alone time to talk, but I've got no idea how the heck I'm supposed to start the conversation. Perhaps I should start by asking how he's been these past few years, if only to get the ball rolling.
Yeah, let's do that.
"So, how have you been?"
I force a smile out, and Bryan responds with a cocked eyebrow. Ah, he's not interested in entertaining me, is he?
"Are you trying to catch up with me? Now, after all this time?"
The blunt question leaves me at a loss for words. What the heck? I can't even ask my brother how he's been when we haven't talked in over two years?! Come on, bro! It's not like exchanging pleasantries with me is going to kill you!
My indignation must show, 'cause I hear a sigh, followed by a cold reminder.
"Scott, you haven't tried to contact me once in the past two years, and you didn't respond to my messages the few times I tried to contact you, either."
Right, I've ignored his text messages until they became scarce and eventually stopped coming. I guess that one is on me. So, I've got no right to complain and can only respond by pinching my lips.
Fine. My bad. Sorry.
Another sigh, then Bryan adds, "We're not close enough to engage in some idle chatter now, are we?"
Ouch, that hurts.
"It's not—"
"If you have something to say," my brother cuts me off, "don't turn around the bush, and just say it. My lunch break is almost over, and I'm busy."
I open my mouth, but no words come out. Seeing us like this, it's hard to believe we were once inseparable, almost joined at the hip. It all changed after our mother's death, and our relationship got even worse after the incident that put him into a wheelchair.
If anything, we're no better than strangers, strangers who look uncannily alike.
The awkwardness is killing me.
"…Will you be coming to Melissa's funerals?"
In the end, that's the only thing I can muster the courage to ask. These two were close back then.
"Maybe if the time allows it." His tone of voice is cold, detached even. "If you will excuse me, I need to get back to my office."
"Alright…"
With that said, Bryan bypasses me, his electric wheelchair buzzing slightly. But he stops in his tracks, not even a meter away, to glance over his shoulder at me, an emotion I can't quite decipher darkening his gaze.
"Scott, my phone number is still the same." He narrows his eyes, and I feel seen. "I will answer your call if you ever decide to contact me."
Then, he leaves, and I'm left alone, a feeling of guilt gnawing at my chest.
***
I slouch on the chair beside Jordan's bed, exhausted.
Thank God, I've managed to push the children to James for nap time today, and he's their official pillow for the next hour or so. That guy needs to rest, anyway, and the kids are the perfect excuse to keep him from pacing around the house. I know he's anxious, but he has to spend time in bed and sleep, vampire or not.
Whether he wants to admit it or not, our little escapade to the government office has drained him. His heart has yet to fully heal, and he can't walk around only 'cause he's an otherworldly being. But even then, that's exhausting.
Had he been human, he'd long be dead by now, already buried six feet under.
"I know he wants to get back to his clan right away and clean up the mess, but…"
But that's still too dangerous. He'll most likely get killed before he can do anything, considering how weak he currently is. Olivier could get rid of him with a flick of his wrist, for all I know.
The idea doesn't please me.
I mean, I busted my ass to keep him alive, and that's not for him to go get himself killed by his cousin at the first opportunity. What would have been the point of saving his life, then?
…Whatever. In the end, it's his life; if he wants to court death, he might as well.
"Man, I'm tired."
And yet, I can't fall asleep.
My mind keeps going back to my meeting with Bryan, and my bowels twist into knots. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to make small talk with him. It wasn't the brightest idea, considering I've been giving him the cold treatment for years.
Yeah, no, I'd also have been pissed in his stead. I'm just glad he hasn't torn my little ego apart with that sharp tongue of his.
Gosh, this is annoying.
So fucking annoying, and all I can do is bury my head in my hands, wondering if we could have done things differently, if I could have done things differently. Perhaps, then, our relationship wouldn't have gone down the hill, and we would still be the close brothers that we once were.
I might not say it aloud, but Bryan is the only blood relative of mine left whom I care about. Our mother has been dead for over a decade, and our father is a father only in name.
—Let's not talk about our scum half-siblings, uncles, or aunts. They're all pieces of shit, although I guess Miria takes the cake when it comes to being human trash. Thank heavens, we're not blood-related to her.
"Say, Jordan," I hear myself ask, peeking at the sleeping demon through my fingers, "do you have siblings, by any chance?"
Funny how I've started to talk to myself whenever I come to visit him. My husband can't answer me, yet I keep talking to him.
How laughable.
When he's awake, I avoid him like the plague; when he's bedridden, I spend most of my free time by his side, waiting for him to open his eyes. It's ludicrous.
Yet, I can't help myself.
"On the off chance, you wouldn't know how to mend a broken relationship with your brother, would you?"
Of course, I get no answer.
The room is still plunged in silence, and it will remain quiet for a few more days. That is, if Lucy is right, and Jordan only needs a bit of rest. Somehow, I can't help the anxiety brewing in the pit of my stomach.
…What if he doesn't wake up?
It's a question that torments me just as much as my meeting with my brother, and I feel like both are going to keep me wide awake tonight.
Aah, man, I'm tired. So very tired.