Page 90 of Wilder Heart

“You’re my brother.”

“Am I?” There it was. There was the anger he’d been missing. The baby’s name had undercut it, but here it was again, and he embraced it like an old friend. “I thought that relationship died with Dad.”

Lain covered his face with his hands.

“Sorry, should I sugarcoat it?”

“No, I just?—”

“I’ll apologize for a lot of things I’ve done, Lain, but not that. I won’t apologize for getting rid of him. He was gonna kill you that night. I heard the medical report in court, okay? Two broken ribs, a fractured cheekbone, half a dozen lacerations across your back?—”

“Stop,” Lain hissed. “I don’t need you to list them off. I remember them plenty well.”

“That list is burned into my memory,” Wilder said, albeit softer. “It was the only update I’d been given on you. You never came to my hearing. You never took my calls.”

“I couldn’t,” Lain croaked, eyes swimming with tears.

“Why not?” Wilder demanded.

Lain sniffled. “Because I knew you were gonna be found guilty. I was the one who called 911. I was the reason you were arrested. You didn’t contest the findings, you just claimed self-defense.”

“Itwas?—”

“Iknow, I know. But I knew if I sat there and watched the hearing, I’d have to watch them take you away for good, just like that night when they packed you in the back of that squad car.” He dashed a falling tear away distractedly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. But you… you ruined everything.” The words themselves were harsh, but it wasn’t an accusation. It was a lament. “All of the sudden I was alone. All my life, I’d had you, and suddenly you’d done this horrifying thing and I was all alone.”

Watching his brother cry was a wretched thing. Wilder resisted the urge to reach for him. For eight years, he’d reached, and no one had reached back. “You could’ve contacted me. You could’ve taken my calls. I wasn’t dead, Lain. I was just locked up.”

“I should have,” Lain confessed. “I was scared. Scared the murder had changed you. The look in your eyes when you did it…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I didn’t know you had that kind of cold rage inside you.”

“Didn’t you?” Wilder asked. “Didn’t you hate him as much as I did? Every time he bought another fucking bottle instead of filling the fridge. Every time he slept through morning feedings on the ranch. Every time he wandered off to the bar while we helped each other with our homework at the table. Didn’t you ever just think ‘life would be simpler if he just disappeared’?”

Lain stared long and hard at the table. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I did. I just didn’t have it in me to make it happen.”

Cash nudged Wilder’s hand, reminding him of his coffee, and he took a long, grateful sip. When he set his cup back down, he ran a weary hand through his hair.

“Do you hate me?” he asked. “For what I did? For who I’ve become? For—everything?”

With his brow furrowed, Lain shook his head. “I never hated you.”

“It damn sure felt that way.”

Lain sighed. “I don’t want to make excuses for the way I behaved back then. I was shell-shocked right after, and healing. And then the idea of sitting through the hearing gave me such anxiety. And when you started calling from prison, I knew you’d have questions about why I hadn’t been there. The truth is, I was a coward every step of the way, and I’ll never be able to make up for the ways I’ve let you down.” He paused, giving Wilder a significant look. “But I’d like to try. Wait here a sec.”

He left swiftly, leaving Wilder and Cash looking at each other in confusion.

When he returned, he had two manila folders. He peeked at the inside of one, and then laid one in front of Wilder and one in front of Cash.

“Originally, these were separate, but since you two are moving in together, we can discuss combining them.”

“Combining…” Wilder started as he opened the folder. His eyes scanned the document within. It looked very official, with legal names and everything.

“Well, Blackwood Ranch was never intended to be solely mine,” Lain said. “And I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about being more involved in the business, but at the very least, I figured you were owed a certain amount of compensation for your half of the ranch.”

“My… Oh my God, Lain, is thisland?” he asked as his eyes snagged on the words ‘owned acreage.’

“Yep. I’ve been in the process of buying up some of the land around the ranch to add on to the property, and I decided to earmark some of that for you two.”

“Two hundred acres,” Cash read. “You want to give me two hundred acres of land.”

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