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Bradley's concerned voice pulled me awake. I rolled to face the door, tucking my hands under the pillow. He stood just over the threshold, leaning against the frame like he needed the support to stay standing. After a glance behind him, he limped the rest of the way into the room to collapse onto the end of the bed.

“What happened?” he asked, staring at the ceiling.

“Nothing,” I sighed, then scooted down to lie beside him. When his head lolled to the side and those dark brown eyes locked with mine, I knew he saw right through the lie. “He loves me. I know he does. And what's sad is I think he knows it too, but he's too much of a chickenshit to come out and say it. No idea what he's so scared of.”

Bradley said nothing for a minute, letting the silence between us weigh in the room.

“I can see what he's saying. Not all of us are like you, Beka. For some of us who weren't shown love, it doesn't come easy, and it's fucking terrifying when it's in your face. You don't want to accept it, yet the alternative, letting it walk away, is just as terrible.” His fingers intertwined with mine along the quilt beneath us. “It's easier to push people away and get lost in an escape than it is to admit you're too broken inside with no way of being fixed.”

“Bradley,” I whispered and squeezed his hand. “Is that how you feel? That you're broken and beyond repair?”

His nonresponse answered the question for him.

I rolled to my side and leaned up on an elbow. “You and Brenton and all those other people out there who've never been loved, never been shown the basics a mom and dad should give, aren't broken. I'm not broken. Don't give two thoughts to Dad and what he says. You are amazing. You've kept this place going while Dad sat on his ass drinking. You have your demons, we all do, but look at you.” I waved a hand to his face, where clear eyes stared back into mine. “You've been through hell this week, and you're clean. You did that, no one else.”

“I want a hit so bad it hurts,” he said with a slight tremble. It's only then that I noticed his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallows breaths. “I'm trying. I am fucking trying, but it's hard and fucking everything hurts.”

“I believe in you,” I whispered. “And I love you. You always have me in your corner.”

“I know.” He focused back on the ceiling with a sigh. “What are you going to do?”

“I don't know.” Saying the words out loud stirred fear and loneliness in my gut. “He knows I love him. I've shown him, forgiven him. I can't make him realize he’s capable of loving someone. He needs to do that on his own.”

“Well, for a guy, actions speak louder than words.”

“What do you mean?” Silence met my response, piquing my interest. “Bradley.”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Um, yes?”

“Beka,” he said with a frustrated groan.

“Don't ‘Beka’ me, you jackass.”

“You can't call me a jackass. You just told me you loved me and were in my corner!”

“I can. We're siblings, so it's allowed. Tell me, what did you mean by that?”

He sighed and pushed to sit up. “He told me not to tell you.”

“Even better reason to tell me.”

“He's meeting those guys tonight, the ones I owe money to.”

I stared, mouth open. “What? How... when... what?”

“He told me to set it up, Beka. He said he didn't want those guys on his property or anywhere near you.”

Anger mixed with fear pushed aside all the sorrow and hurt from earlier. Hands balled into tight fists, I stood and started toward the door. “When?”

“One.”

“Who's his backup?”