He grunts, glaring at me as he takes another sip of the cheap-ass beer he ordered.
“I did shit I never thought I’d do. I thought life would get easier when I left this town behind me, but that was a big fucking lie. I had a hard enough time keeping myself alive, and I never would have made it with you on the back of my bike. We both would’ve died on the streets instead of sitting here, drinking a beer now.”
“Seventeen years later,” he says through gritted teeth, stuck on the amount of time I’ve been gone.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. Words I’ve never spoken in all the time I’ve been gone. Words that have power over many people and hopefully my brother too.
“Do you have any idea what life was like when you left?”
“Shit, I suppose.”
“He turned all the anger he had for you on to us. Me, Callum, Sean, Nevin, Quinn, and Ian. We all had our spot as the main target for his anger. Nevin was the only one who did something about that shit, making sure it never happened again. Ruined his life over that asshole. Still paying the price for protecting us.”
“I saw him last month,” I say.
“How’d he look?”
“Like shit,” I mutter.
“Heard prison could do that to a man.”
“He’ll be out in a few months.”
“Ten years gone because he couldn’t take the beatings anymore and decided to put good ole Dad in the ground instead of taking his fists. He never should’ve been put away for protecting himself or anyone else.”
My stomach tightens as a tidal wave of guilt crashes over me. “I know, Finn.”
“But everyone in this shit-ass town thought we were all low-life dirtbags. They had no idea what happened in that house and only saw Dad as a poor single father to seven young boys, all abandoned by their mother at an early age. It didn’t matter to anyone that he beat us on the daily. Nevin was the only one who had a set of balls on him to make things stop. It should’ve been you. You should’ve been the one to save us. You should be the one sitting in jail right now, not Nevin.”
“I should’ve stayed to protect you guys.”
“Ain’t no lie, but only a coward cuts and runs, and you, Dylan, are a coward.”
His words are like a punch to the gut. I was a fucked-up eighteen-year-old when I left, high on coke, weed, and whatever else I could get my hands on at the time. I’d been a victim of my father’s attacks for over a decade, and all I wanted was out. I needed freedom, and somewhere in the back of my stupid-ass mind, I thought if I left, my father might somehow change…that his anger would simmer, and he wouldn’t throw hands as easily as he had.
“You didn’t even call to see if we were okay.”
“What the fuck was I supposed to call? We didn’t have a phone at the house, and no one had cell phones. Was I supposed to send up a Bat-Signal or some shit, Finn?”
“A letter would’ve been nice. Something. Anything. Just gone. Forgotten. Like we were dead to you. But it’s okay. You were dead to us too.”
Time hasn’t healed old wounds. It never does. I already know, no matter what I say to Finn, he’s never going to forgive me. I’m wasting my breath even trying to explain myself. He was lost to me the day I left.
“Why even bother coming back?” he asks.
“Quinn called me last month and told me what was going on with Ian.”
“We have it under control. We’re taking care of him. We didn’t need you blowing back into town and offering your help out of nowhere. You haven’t given a shit for seventeen fucking years, Dylan, and we sure as fuck don’t need it now.”
“Ian wanted me here,” I bite out.
“Clearly the cancer has fucked with his head.”
I push my beer forward, no longer in the mood to drink or listen to my brother’s verbal assault. Standing, I reach into my pocket and peel off a ten before tossing it on the bar. “Doesn’t matter what you think or feel, brother.”
Finn sneers at me, but I’m not putting up with his shit. I’ve spent the second half of my life not putting up with anyone’s shit, and I’m not about to start now. Blood or no blood, I’m not going to listen to his shit.
I lean over, getting right in his face, making sure he hears every word I’m about to speak. “I was asked to come, and I came. Simple as that. You don’t need to like it. You don’t need to see or speak to me. But if Ian wants me here, and Quinn too, then I’m fucking staying. You have a problem with that…it’s your fucking problem. You steer clear of me, and I’ll sure as fuck steer clear of you. Got me?”
He barks out a bitter laugh, his eyes sparkling and filled with hate. When he rises from his stool, we’re eye to eye, the same color green staring back at me. “I ain’t steering clear of shit. As long as you’re sharing the same air as me, I’m going to make you as miserable as I possibly can. You don’t get to abandon us and then ride back in like some bullshit hero.”
“Whatever, Finn.”
“Piece of shit,” he mutters. “Worthless piece of shit.”
“Glad to see you sound just like Dad, even picking up on his phrases and making them your own.”
His eyes flash, and he pushes a single hand against my chest, trying to knock me backward. “Want to settle this outside?” he’s quick to ask.
I keep my feet planted against the sticky tile floor, not moving from his piss-poor excuse for a shove. “Ah. You even settle your feelings the same way too. You need to work on that shit, brother. It’s not a good look on any man, especially a Walsh.”
“You’re not worth the night in jail,” he replies, dropping back into the stool before his hand finds his beer. “Get the fuck out of my sight, brother,” he says, the last word sounding more like profanity than a term of endearment.
“You need me, you call. Until then, I’ll stay out of your way, and you stay the fuck out of mine,” I tell him, drawing the line of where our relationship stands and will remain for what will probably be an eternity.
I don’t think there’s anything I can do for Finn to forgive me for leaving. He’s had too many years to hate me, twisting the memories from that time into whatever bullshit he needed to survive. Whatever connection we had died the day I left. That is on me and something I have to live with every damn day.
He doesn’t so much as look at me. It’s as if I no longer exist to him. But as soon as I start to move away, he says, “You’ve been here a week and somehow feel you’ve earned back your spot in this family. You haven’t. Doesn’t matter what Quinn or Ian says, they feel the same way too. You’re an outsider. Not family. Not our brother. You ain’t shit anymore.”
There’s nothing more for me to say. He’s said his piece, telling me how he’s felt for the last seventeen years without me around. “You know where to find me if you need me.”
He lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s ripe.”
I stalk out of the bar, eyes on me from many of the people in my past, looking as if they’ve seen a ghost. As soon as I step outside, I turn my face toward the starlit sky and inhale the salty, humid air, cursing myself for coming back to this shithole after I said I’d never step foot in this state again.