Page 132 of The Prodigal Son

I let out a sigh as I stare out the window. Adam is in the driver’s seat next to me, and I can’t help but agree with Lola here. I have been through a lot. This month has been pure insanity, but I made a promise to Jensen. I told him I’d keep going.

Not to mention, I need to be on the stage again. What others don’t understand is that performing isn’t work to me. It’s cathartic. It’s when my mind gets a break from all the noise, chaos and pain. It doesn’t hurt onstage.

“Well, maybe you should consider getting some support of your own,” she says, and I love her for saying that. The motherly concern coming from such a badass is the most wholesome thing I’ve ever heard.

Choosing not to mock her for it, I simply nod. “I will. You’re absolutely right.”

She gives a haughty chuckle. “I know I am.”

“See you tomorrow, Lo.”

“See you tomorrow, Isaac.”

After hanging up the phone, I’m suddenly alone with my brother, Adam. The brother I haven’t seen for eleven years, other than the dramatic moment yesterday morning in the waiting room nearly twenty-four hours ago.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

I shrug. “Yeah. Everything is fine. I’ll get there in time to run through the set list before the show. I missed some local news spot and the official dress rehearsal, but that’s the least of my worries.”

He nods as he drives. I can see the tension in his posture and expression. I’m sure there’s a lot he wants to say to me, and honestly, there’s a lot I want to say to him too, but I’m just so fucking tired.

I hardly slept all night. I was lucky the nurses let me stay the night with Jensen in his room. Most of the time, they kick you out after visiting hours, but after the show Mr. Miles put on, waving around his badge and threatening a discrimination lawsuit, they didn’t say a word to me.

It’s morning now, and I am in desperate need of a shower and some real food, not the vending machine bullshit I survived on yesterday.

When Adam pulls up to my mother’s house, I notice the other cars in the drive. He puts the car into park but doesn’t move to get out. Instead, he turns to face me.

“You’ve been through a lot, so I won’t burden you with anything now, but I just want to take a moment to say…”

He pauses and I watch as his eyes fill with tears. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

My mouth lifts with a crooked smirk. “Thanks, Adam, but?—”

“You know I’m not talking about your career, right?”

I freeze, staring at him across the center console of the car. I’m cried out and talked out and just so sick of all the goddamn feelings, but hearing my older brother, the one I looked up to my whole life, tell me he’s proud of me…

It cuts deep. It’s been a long road for both of us to get here, one I’m sure we’ll discuss more in time—now that we have time.

Without a word, I lean over and pull him into a tight hug. “Thank you, Adam.”

“It doesn’t matter how much anyone missed you. It doesn’t matter who it hurt when you left. You understand that, right? You did the right thing, Isaac.”

Tearfully, I nod against his shoulder.

“You’re the best. The rest of us are a fucking mess, but you…you’re the good one.”

I didn’t know I had any tears left. But I cry them into Adam’s embrace, anyway. Adam was the hardest person to walk away from, not because I missed him but because I saw the path he was headed down, and it felt like I was losing him. In a way, I think I left so I didn’t have to watch my closest brother turn into our father.

Instead of me losing him, he lost me.

Then, to see him fight for me yesterday was the second biggest relief of the day. Adam grew into the man I knew he could be instead of the man I was afraid he’d become. He grew into the father I always needed.

“We should get inside,” he says, eventually pulling away. “Mom made breakfast, and I’m sure you’re starved.”

The word breakfast has my stomach growling audibly.

“Shower first. Then breakfast,” I reply with a smile.

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