Page 97 of Rise of the King (Checkmate 5)

22

Brotherhood

Jay

Iclose the door in Soph’s face and lean against the solid timber for a moment. I need twenty seconds to process the fact that I’m finally in a room with my brother again—but maybe he doesn’t want me.

This isn’t how I pictured our reunion.

“She’s gonna be okay out there?”

Keeping my eyes low, I turn and shove my hands into my pockets. “Soph? Yeah, she’s got it under control.”

“She gonna run to the cops and narc?”

I frown. “Narc on what? She’s the one who admitted to ordering a hit on several dozen men.”

“Several dozen?” he balks. “You named three or four men, not dozens.”

Shrugging, I finally lift my eyes and meet his. “I lost count, but I know for a damn fact they each deserved what they got. She pulled the information and gave me the proof I needed. I pulled the trigger. Neither of us are sorry.”

Nodding, he mirrors my stance, shoves his hands into his pockets and watches the floor. Gummies sit in the bottom of my right pocket amid fluff and whatever other nasty shit goes into pockets. But my left hand plays with the blade I never stopped carrying all this time.

My stolen blade.

My brother’s blade.

“Listen…” He exhales heavily and sends my heart racing. “I don’t und–”

“I hit my target from eleven hundred yards.” I’m so fucking scared right now that my return is unwelcome, I force myself to interrupt his questions before he can officially ask me to leave. “Several times in a row. I was using a Winchester model 70, single shots, and a Leupold scope. I lay on a hill in my ghillie when the sun was only just coming over the horizon; I was eleven hundred yards away in a soft breeze, and I hit four targets in a row. I wanted so badly to call you up and tell you, but I couldn’t.”

“Because you were dead.” His voice catches and breaks. Standing across the room, he rolls onto the heels of his boots and firms his lips into a straight line. “I thought you were dead for seven months, Jay. I thought you died from a cocaine overdose, so I was already mourning you. Then you came back, saved my girl, and died again. I waited months for you to come back to me. I waited for it not to be real, because you’re my baby brother, and I missed you so much it felt like my heart was gone, but you didn’t come back!”

“I’m here now.”

“It’s been so long,” he whispers. “It was the longest seven months of my life. My heart fucking breaks because that seven months was both loss and gain. I lost you, but I got Jessie. Does that mean the universe will take her now that you’re back? Do I have to choose?”

“No.” Reaching up, I run a hand through my short hair. “I’m not taking her from you, I promise. I’m not here to hurt you. I’ve watched you with her the last few months. You’re happy with her. She’s good for you.”

He nods slowly. “She’s perfect for me. I don’t wanna lose her.”

“I’m so sorry for being weak.” Dropping my shoulders, I take a step forward so only eight or so feet separate us. “I was supposed to have your back, but I ended up an addict. I was so fucking ashamed of myself, I let you mourn me a week longer than you needed to, because I didn’t want to show you how weak I was.”

“That batch Abel gave us…” he murmurs. “It was a dirty batch. He was trying to kill us both.”

“Didn’t get either of us.”

His lips twitch. “Bishop men, we’re like cockroaches.” Silence descends over the boardroom for a long minute. Memories of our shitty childhood play through my mind, shitty because Colum Bishop beat and starved us. He felt that’s what he needed to do to demand compliance. That’s what the military does; they wear you down until you’re nothing. Then, if you survived that, if you didn’t tap out, they consider you worthy, so they build you back up again. But despite that, my childhood was actually pretty fucking perfect because I was never hungry alone; I was never hurt alone. I was simply never alone because Kane never turned away from me. He held me close and taught me skills.

When you’re hungry and tired, and you’re not top dog because your brother is, you learn other ways to be valuable. I became the joker, the crazy one, because I couldn’t conjure food or medical supplies out of thin air, but I sure as shit could conjure a joke and make him smile.

I stand in this boardroom in the middle of the day with my brother just a few feet ahead of me, so close we could hug, but so far, I’m not sure we’re even brothers anymore, and I think of all the good times.

But he stands there and probably thinks of his schedule, his girl, his rebound bro. He’s probably wondering how long it’ll take for me to take a hint and fuck off. Because I died seven months ago, and he moved on.

“Are you staying here?” Glancing up, I catch sight of his watery eyes and stop breathing altogether. “Are you staying, Jay? Will she let you?”

“She? Soph?”

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