The Darkest Corner of the Heart: Chapter 33

Me: Today at 6. You have 30 minutes.

I wish I could say I haven’t seen my brother in a decade, but sadly I haven’t been that lucky.

For years, our parents forced us to share a space during Christmas, but every other holiday he was going to be at home, I skipped it. My parents understood why, and they never held it against me.

They know what he did, but the “He’s our son too” excuse never gets old. The only reason I don’t hold it against them either is because they mean well. It’s not an excuse for them—it’s an explanation. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel like I’ve been handed the short end of the stick.

He was the one who pushed me away when we were young then again when we were not so young. He was the jealous one, the aggressive brother, the one who couldn’t stand the thought of me being good at something he wasn’t. He was the one who slept with my girlfriend while I was still dating her.

But that doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

For all intents and purposes, I’m an only child. And I don’t care how bad that thinking makes me look.

When people say, “But he’s your brother, and blood is thicker than water,” they don’t realize they are missing half of the saying.

The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb is the full quote, and it means that the bonds we make by choice are more important than the people we are bound to by the water of the womb.

Hence why I couldn’t give less of a crap if Andrew was or wasn’t my brother. If he wanted us to have a relationship, maybe he shouldn’t have been a class-A asshole all his life. Just a suggestion.

He asked me to meet him at his workplace, some fancy office downtown he promised would be empty by the time I get there. For once, he’s honest.

Everything I know about Andrew’s adult life, I’ve learned against my will. My parents tend to give me updates when we see each other, thinking that my pride is keeping me from asking, when the truth is that he’s pretty much dead to me. But I never say that out loud—I want my mother’s heart intact.

So that’s how I know what to expect when I walk into the marketing firm he works at two minutes after our scheduled time. My eyebrows don’t rise, and my facial expression doesn’t change when my blue eyes meet his brown ones.

Andrew is broad like me but a couple of inches shorter. He’s nothing but arrogant, as seen in the current lopsided smirk on his face, as if this was some laughing matter.

“James,” he starts, that haughty voice I was only too happy to never hear again piercing my ears.

“Thirty minutes,” I bark, getting closer to what I assume is his desk. “Cut the shit.”

I have a date with Maddie in an hour, and I’ve already told her I’ll be running a little late, because this can’t wait another day. I want to get this done with, this conversation that should’ve happened years ago, and go back to my girl and have another more important conversation with her that is long overdue.

Because whatever we’re doing isn’t cutting it anymore.

I want all of her. Always, from now on and until I take my last breath, and I’m not risking losing her before I can even have her.

I’m brought back to the present moment by the way my brother’s face morphs into the icy, cruel one I know all too well. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You’d know, since you’ve been asking to see me for months.”

“Ah, yes. That.”

Despite the years apart, I know my brother like the back of my hand. And that’s why I know the blow is coming, one way or another.

He hasn’t been asking to see me out of the kindness of his heart or to apologize for everything he’s done to me. That’s not him.

I confirm my suspicions when he reaches into one of the pockets of his suit jacket and holds out some kind of invitation. I already know what it is before he says it, but he lets me know anyway.

“Alexandra and I are getting married this spring, and I wanted to tell you in person. We hope to see you there.”

His words settle in my brain, taking shape until I’m positive I understand every syllable. Once I know for sure that my head hasn’t come up with something so pitiful, I wait for the anger to come.

I expect to feel angry, but not because he’s getting married to my ex-girlfriend. Not at all—any feelings I had for her dissipated into thin air the second I caught her in bed with him.

The anger would come because of my brother, I thought. Because this person who was supposed to stay by my side all our lives, who should’ve been a best friend to me, is still out to hurt me.

Twelve years of open animosity hasn’t been enough for him—he wants more.

And so I wait, for a heartbeat and then two and three, for the rage to come. The need to lash out at him, to punch him in the face, anything.

Instead, the only reaction his wedding invitation pulls from me is a genuine chuckle.

I miss how my brother’s whole demeanor changes, how his shoulders stiffen and that trophy smile is wiped from his face.

I miss the way he fists his hands at his sides and a muscle ticks on his cheek because I’m too busy laughing.

At him.

At all of this…whatever this is.

A shit show, if I had to give it a name.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” he demands, his chest heaving as if he’d just run a marathon.

I shake my head, my amused smile still firmly in place, and give myself the freedom to look at Andrew, at my older brother, in a new light.

And that’s when I see it all.

“This is pathetic, man.” I’m surprised there’s no heat in my voice, no trace of anything but this amusement that isn’t entirely unwelcome. I take the invitation from his grip, and I scan it for all of five seconds before scrunching it up in my hand and throwing it in the nearest trash can. “There. Where it belongs.”

“What’s wrong with you?” He rushes to retrieve the piece of paper, unfolding it and trying to get rid of all the wrinkles with the heel of his palm. When it becomes obvious he can’t do anything about it, he turns to me, and the fury behind his eyes isn’t unfamiliar to me. “Fuck you, James. Honestly, fuck you. I was trying to extend an olive branch, but—”

My easy smile disappears, but I don’t raise my voice. “It’s pretty clear what you were trying to do, and that invitation wasn’t an olive branch. It was a failed attempt at a jab.”

“A jab?”

“Did you really think I would give a fuck if you married her, Andrew? If you got married at all?”

My throat closes up unexpectedly, and I fucking hate myself for it.

I never pictured myself telling my brother any of this, but then I remember how Maddie handled her father coming back after seventeen years. How brave she was, how strong.

And it’s only because of her strength that I say, “You’re nothing to me, Andrew. Neither is she. You’re no longer my brother, not after all you’ve done.”

“I’m still your brother,” he says, agitated, as he takes a step closer. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is. I’m only inviting you to my wedding, and I’m having the decency to do it in person.”

Is he on something? He must be.

“Decency?” The word tastes sour on my tongue. “If you had any ounce of decency left in you, you would’ve apologized for being a shit brother all your fucking life. But that would require admitting you’ve done something wrong, and I don’t expect you to be that mature at thirty-three.”

He lets go of the wrinkled invitation, dropping it between us, and gets in my face, his breath hitting my mouth as he speaks.

“I have nothing to be sorry about,” he sneers. “All you cared about was football, fuck everything else. You always strived to be the top of the class, the top of the team, the top of the fucking family. So what if I took care of your little girlfriend while you were busy crying over a failed career that would’ve sucked ass, anyway? She sure as hell has no complaints.”

“The fact that I failed doesn’t make you a winner.” My voice sounds loud and clear. “In fact, you’re one of the most pathetic losers I know.”

One thing about Andrew that hasn’t changed since childhood—aside from his pettiness—is his violent temper.

I still have that scar on my left shin from when I was four years old and he was six, and he thought it would be funny to see what would happen if he pushed me down the stairs because Dad said it was my turn to choose what to watch on TV.

It wasn’t the first time he pushed me, slapped me, bit me, or punched me, and it also wasn’t the last. And all right, maybe I started a couple of fights, but I wasn’t the one looking for them.

I’d finished them all, though.

I’d always channeled my anger on the field, not like I had much to begin with. But even if I did, punching my brother when we’re both grown men isn’t an option. We’re not a pair of immature brutes anymore, damn it.

But I’m the only one who got the memo, apparently.

I duck Andrew’s sloppy punch by mere luck. My mind is still deciding whether this is real, if my brother has just tried to hit me in the face, when he strikes again.

“Andrew,” I sneer, grabbing his wrist at the last second. “Stop.”

He doesn’t listen. He pushes me with his other hand, making me stumble backward and slam into a desk. I hear things dropping to the floor, but I don’t have time to check the damages because he tries to punch me again.

“How dare you,” he half yells between gritted teeth, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt.

I grab his forearms and kick him in the leg until he lets go of me, ripping the top buttons of my shirt as he does.

“Andrew.” My voice is calm, although my heart couldn’t be beating any faster. Is he really trying to beat me up at his workplace? Has his brain stopped functioning? “This is why you wanted to see me? Don’t make me knock out all your goddamn teeth. Stop it.”

“Always the strong one, the reasonable one, the perfect one,” he mocks, the expression on his face nothing short of cruel. “Admit that this is killing you.”

At that, I frown. “Admit what?”

His mouth curves into a bitter smile, as if he thought he’d just caught me playing coy. “I knew you loved her. I knew you wanted to marry her, have kids with her. But she didn’t love you like that, and it ruined you. You could be the star player and the perfect son all you wanted, but you were never going to get the dream girl. She chose me instead because she saw what kind of self-centered piece of shit you were, and you can’t live with that.”

Did that…

Did that just come out of his mouth?

I didn’t imagine it, did I?

“Andrew,” I start, unable to believe this shit is really happening. When I look at my brother now, all I see is a stranger. “Tell me you’re not about to marry Alexandra to get back at me.”

That catches him off guard. His mouth opens, then closes, but I don’t let him continue.

“You really are, aren’t you?” I let out a low whistle. “I can’t say you don’t deserve each other, so truly, I couldn’t be happier you’ve found your rotten match.”

If he’s only been with her for so long to try and spite me, maybe my brother needs more professional help than I’d initially thought.

Not my problem, though.

“You still love her,” he goes on, trying to push this narrative we both know isn’t working. “Y-You wanted everything with her.”

“I might have,” I concede, my eyes hard on him. “Twelve years ago, before I realized she wasn’t worth my time, let alone my love.”

I knew that the second I caught her in bed with him. All those feelings, all those dreams of building a future with her went down the drain in that moment and never came back. Not for one second.

They were the reason I refused to open up my heart again until Maddie came into my life and ripped it open with her bare hands. And now…

Now I’m standing here, entertaining this pathetic excuse of a man I call an older brother, when I should be heading to the restaurant to be with her. To enjoy our date and tell her that maybe this no-labels arrangement isn’t working for me anymore.

I want it all, and I want it with her.

Because I’ve fallen in love with her, and I’m doing this for her. To move on and become the healed man she deserves to have by her side.

What am I still doing here?

I didn’t mean for this conversation to take longer than five minutes. He doesn’t deserve a second more.

When I reach into my pocket to grab my phone and text Maddie that I’ll be late, a firm grip stops me.

“Let me go,” I tell him more calmly than he deserves. “I don’t want you to go home with a black eye.”

“Fuck you,” he spits out. “Admit what we both know.”

“I have nothing to admit because I don’t give a fuck about you or her.” My eyes zero in on his, so cold and bitter. “I thought maybe you’d changed after all these years, but you’re the same bitter motherfucker I left behind. I don’t know you anymore, Andrew, and at this point I don’t care to. You’re forever stuck in the mindset of a petty twenty-something-year-old, and the sad thing is you’re comfortable there. You think you’re thriving, don’t you? You don’t care who you hurt as long as you come out on top, and for that you deserve every fucking miserable thing that happens to you.”

In some capacity, I expected it to happen. It might be why I do nothing to stop him as he finally gets what he invited me here to do.

My brother lands a punch on the right side of my face, missing my eye by some miracle, as he starts shouting.

His blow leaves my skin feeling hot, and it stings like a motherfucker, but I don’t hit him back.

Because, unlike my older brother, I still have a functioning brain.

And two working eyes that spot a security guard running toward us, yelling at Andrew to stand back.

I taste blood in my mouth, and I already know this isn’t going to look good in the morning unless I ice it as soon as possible. But one look at the time is enough to set my priorities straight.

“Sir.” The security guard’s eyes land on my cheek before he keeps going. “What is going on? Did this man hit you?”

“Yes. Will that be all?”

He gives me a weird look. “I’m instructed to call the police if a physical altercation takes place inside the building. They are on their way.”

“That won’t be necessary.” I don’t want my parents to have a heart attack when they hear my brother has been arrested for punching me. “I won’t be pressing charges.” He deserves it, but I don’t have the time.

I have a woman to go back to, and she’s more important to me than anything and anyone else. More than any other person in this goddamn universe.

“He is an employee of this company, sir,” the security guard keeps going. “The CEO has been contacted and will want to take your statement for company purposes, as well as the police. Please, don’t leave the premises until they arrive.”

Shit.

I ignore my brother as he tries to convince the security guard I threatened him first, but then I spot the security camera right above our heads and know I have nothing to worry about.

See, that’s the thing about dealing with assholes—they tend to be so stupid, they ruin their own lives. You don’t have to do a single thing.

When I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and get my phone, my stomach drops. The screen is cracked, and it doesn’t unlock. I try to restart it, but it doesn’t work.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He pushed me so hard against the desk behind me, he broke my goddamn phone.

I glance at the digital clock on the far wall of the office, and I realize I’m already late and have no way of contacting Maddie. The restaurant isn’t exactly close by, and I’ll never get there in time with all this traffic.

But I could call the restaurant. If someone gave me their phone, I could look up their phone number online and tell them there’s been an issue and to let Maddie know.

That’s what I’m about to do when a man in a suit bursts through the doors, followed by four police officers.

“Simmons!” he roars, and for a second, I think this man I’ve never seen before is addressing me until I watch his eyes burn holes into my brother’s skull. “What the fuck is going on here?”

The next forty-five minutes are tedious. I remember asking for a phone and a police officer telling me they needed to take my statement first, that they won’t take long. But they do.

I also remember how Andrew’s boss apologized profusely to me, clearly embarrassed even after I assured him it was all right. And I recall him telling my brother not to bother coming in the next morning, which doesn’t feel as good as I hoped it would. Not because he doesn’t deserve to lose his job, but because the clock was about to hit eight in the evening, and I still hadn’t managed to contact Maddie.

After a paramedic takes a look at my face and forces me to put some ice on my bruise, I already know it’s too late.

As I am finally allowed to leave, I don’t say a word to my brother. My eyes meet his right before I get in my car. Somehow I knew our story was never meant to have a happy ending. After what just went down, it’s become even clearer that he doesn’t deserve a second chance.

Some people never do, and we aren’t selfish for not giving it to them—family or not.

When people fuck up, they don’t automatically deserve to be forgiven just because they have apologized or feel bad about it. The damage is done, and we have the freedom to decide whether that spot they’ve left vacant in our life can fit them again.

Not that my brother has apologized or ever will, and I’m okay with that. I don’t need us to have a relationship now that I know he hasn’t changed and he’s not planning to.

What I need is Maddie, and something inside me tells me I’ve already lost her.

✽✽✽

She isn’t at the restaurant. I know this because I drove there, asked the staff, and they told me she’d left twenty minutes ago.

So I get back in my car, check that my phone still doesn’t unlock, and do the only thing that feels right.

I drive to her apartment.

When I ring the doorbell downstairs, she doesn’t respond.

I do it five more times.

And nothing.

I wait outside for half an hour until a man leaves the building with a dog on a leash, and I rush inside. I’m desperate to see her, to make sure she understands I didn’t stand her up. I take the stairs two at a time instead of getting into the elevator to get rid of the pent-up anxiety clinging to my chest.

Breathless, I reach her floor and make a beeline for her apartment. The hallway is quiet, deserted, no sounds coming from any of the units.

I ring her doorbell first and then knock when she doesn’t answer. Still nothing.

“Maddie,” I call out as I knock again, pressing my ear to her door. I don’t want her neighbors to think I’m some kind of stalker, so I keep my voice as quiet as I can. “Maddie, I’m so sorry. I went to see my brother, and… It’s a long story, but I got held up and my phone is broken; that’s why I couldn’t call you. I’m so sorry, baby. Let me talk to you, please.”

A minute goes by.

Then fifteen.

At some point, I think I hear water (the tap? the shower?) running inside her apartment, so I know she’s there. And when the automatic lights on the hallway turn off, I don’t imagine the faint glow coming from under her front door.

She’s ignoring me, and it hurts.

But I deserve it.

I should’ve told my brother to fuck off sooner. I don’t regret meeting him, if only because I finally got all that shit off my chest and I’ll never see his face again if I don’t absolutely have to, but I should’ve been smarter about it.

Because Andrew isn’t worth it, but the woman I love sure as fuck is. And I messed up.

After an hour of pacing back and forth in the hallway, hoping she’ll open the door to at least check if I’m still there, it becomes clear she isn’t interested. I knock once more, but no answer comes.

I deserve her cold shoulder, I really fucking do, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up.

I don’t think about the consequences of her neighbors seeing me and possibly calling the police as I sit down in the hallway, my back against the wall right by her door, and wait. If it takes all night, then this is where I’ll be.

My phone is still dead, but I wear a watch to work every day, so I’m not too worried about getting to the clinic late tomorrow morning. I don’t have my alarm, but I’m not planning to sleep anyway.

Two hours go by, and I think of Shadow and Mist. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve been alone at home for twenty-four hours, so I’m not worried. They have water, food, and each other. They’ll be fine.

Me, though? I don’t think I will.

When three in the morning rolls around and not a single soul has left or entered her apartment, I let out a humorless chuckle.

I really am spending the night in a dark hallway, sitting by the door of a woman I won’t survive losing, all because my brother punched me in the face.

By six, I think I’m going delirious when I hear a door opening. I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours, so it wouldn’t surprise me.

But then a familiar shoe steps into the hallway, then another. I follow those long, beautiful legs until my eyes land on a pair of hazel eyes that stole my breath away months ago and still haven’t given it back.

“James?” She frowns. “What are you doing here?”

I have a feeling she knows. There’s no way she didn’t hear me knocking and calling for her last night, but at this point, I don’t care.

She’s here, and so am I, and I’m not going to let her walk away.

“Maddie.” My voice sounds husky and tired as I get up. “I’m so sorry. Something happened last night, and my phone is broken—”

“Your cheek is swollen,” she points out.

It must be because my brain is too tired to function properly, but as soon as it registers she doesn’t sound normal, I wake up at once.

No, her voice sounds flat. Emotionless. And when I look at her, and I mean really look at her, not even the dim light of the hallway can hide the swelling in her eyes or how red they look.

Then I notice the small carry-on luggage by her side, and my heart drops to the pit of my stomach.

“Maddie—”

“Save it,” she says, her voice flat but somehow also cold. “Whatever you’re going to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

I swallow back the uncomfortable lump in my throat. “I didn’t stand you up on purpose, Maddie. I would never do that. I went to see my brother, and things got out of control.” When she looks at my swollen cheek, I think she flinches. I’m not sure. “He’d been trying to reach me for months, and I…” Fuck it. “I needed closure. I couldn’t… I couldn’t be the man you deserve unless I moved on. And I want to be worthy of you more than anything else in this world.”

For a moment, she says nothing. She doesn’t make a sound, and neither do I, afraid of startling her after dropping this bomb.

She shuts her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose, and says, “I’m leaving.”

My heart stops.

The looming presence of her luggage haunts me. Surely, she can’t fit all of her belongings in that small suitcase. She’s not leaving leaving. She can’t.

Why not, asshole? Because of you? You failed her, left her, broke your promise.

“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice suddenly a lot quieter and my throat a lot drier.

She doesn’t look at me as she says, “I’m going home.”

Home.

Not here.

Not with me.

“My mother called.”

I find myself nodding along. “Okay.”

She must have upset her in some way. They don’t have the best relationship, so maybe she promised to meet her but called it off at the last second. Maybe she’s upset about that. Maybe her brother asked her to go back home?

But she has a job here now, two jobs that she loves.

Is she leaving forever?

Fuck it, but I’d go after her.

I would upend my entire life if it meant creating a new one with her.

After what feels like an eternity of nothing but a heavy silence, Maddie finally looks at me, and I see a turmoil of emotions hiding behind her eyes.

She’s confused, angry, broken.

Because I hurt her, and because someone else did too.

You were supposed to take care of her heart. To protect it.

“Maddie—” I start.

But I don’t get a chance to finish before the very last words I expected her to say leave her lips.

“My father is dead.”