Page 50 of The Tryst

But I’ll do it.

I’m relieved to see Wade’s truck in the driveway and I pull up beside it, cutting the engine. I take a few beats, walk myself through another pep talk and head into the house.

I hear the TV when I enter and glancing over to the living room, I see Wade sitting on the couch, legs kicked up on the coffee table, a beer in his hand.

Thinking to match his vibe, I grab a beer from the fridge, twist the cap and toss it in the garbage. I take a long sip, but Wade doesn’t look my way, eyes pinned on some fishing show.

I walk into the living room and lean against the small wall that separates it from the kitchen. I stare at him but he ignores me.

“Can we talk?” I ask, my voice level and calm.

He doesn’t look at me, just takes another swig of his beer. “Got nothing to say to you.”

I tamp down the anger and frustration. “I want things to be right between us,” I begin, stepping closer. “I know I fucked up—”

Wade finally turns to me, his eyes glacial. “You want things to be right?”

“I do,” I say simply. “Tell me what it will take.”

Tipping his head back to study the ceiling, he says, “Hmm.” His eyes slide to me. “Break up with Holland. That will prove to me how much you regret that whole fucking charade and the lies you fed me.”

I frown at him. “Break up with Holland? Why?”

Wade smirks and shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I’d have a chance with her then.”

Rage simmers through my veins but I know my brother. He doesn’t want a chance with Holland. He wants to make me suffer and I keep that in mind, calling on a deeper well of patience. “Not going to break up with Holland. But I’ll apologize. Beg forgiveness.” I try for a little levity. “I’ll wash your truck for six months.”

Wade isn’t amused. “Fuck you and your apology.”

Anger flares but I keep it in check. “Wade, I didn’t handle things well, I know that. But we can’t keep fighting like this. Holland and I—”

“Don’t you dare bring her into this,” Wade snaps, cutting me off. “You lied to my face, Trey. Holland did, too, for that matter. You discouraged me from seeing her by feeding me bullshit about her being like a sister, while you were screwing her the whole time.”

My temper starts to slip. “It wasn’t like that, Wade. We were trying to figure things out. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t want to hurt me?” he sneers. “You just wanted to get in her pants and keep me in the dark. How long has this been going on, huh? How long have you been lying to me?”

“It’s not about that,” I say, my voice rising. “It’s about love. I love her, Wade. I always have.”

“Love? Is that what you call it?” He stands up, his face twisted with rage. “You’re nothing but a selfish bastard, Trey. You always have been.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” I shoot back. “You’ve been acting like a spoiled brat, throwing tantrums because you didn’t get your way.”

Wade steps closer, his fists clenched. He doesn’t say anything but stares daggers at me. I’ve had it, though. I’m over his petulance.

“I know you’re acting like a child,” I snarl at him. “Grow up, Wade. Life isn’t always about you.”

What happens next is a blur. Wade shoves me hard, and I stumble, both of our beers flying. I push him back, harder, and he crashes over the table, coming to rest on the floor. He gets up, his face a mask of revulsion.

“I hate you for this,” he spits out, his voice raw. “I wish you weren’t my brother.”

My heart rends right down the middle. Wade and I fought a lot as brothers, but we’ve never used the wordhateto describe our feelings. I can’t decide if he’s being honest or just dramatic.

None of that matters as he rushes past me, out the side kitchen door. I panic, knowing he’s headed for his truck. Wade’s been drinking, and I don’t know how much. Was that his first beer or his fifth?

“Wade, stop!” I yell as I sprint out behind him. “If you’ve had more than one beer, you can’t drive.”

“Get the hell away from me,” he growls, shoving me again as I try to stop him.

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