Page 80 of A Matter of Fact

“Sssh. Sssh.” He patted his brother’s chest to quiet him down. “It’s okay, I promise.”

“It’s not.”

“Sebastian.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and took a step backward, hating himself more than he ever had. “I’ll figure a way out of this. Until then, I need you to make sure that Beckett is okay.”

“What?” Sebastian glanced toward the door to the condo building.

“Give him the keys. Make sure he has money for food or whatever. He won’t want it, and he won’t take more than he needs. Just…please make sure he’s taken care of until I get this sorted out.”

“You better be coming!” their father yelled from the backseat of the car.

“Rhys, don’t do this,” Sebastian begged.

Rhys took another step back, his eyes filling with tears that he absolutely refused to shed while their father was in the vicinity.

“Sebastian, it’s fine,” he lied. “This is what I do.”

Rhys looked over his shoulder at the idling car. “Promise me you’ll do what I said.”

“I promise,” Sebastian said, almost mechanically.

“Please tell him not to call. Tell him I love him, and I’ll be back as soon as it’s safe.”

“Safe?” Sebastian shook his head like the words didn’t make sense. “What do you mean safe?”

But their father’s threats rang loud and clear in his ears. If Sebastian didn’t pick up on how serious they were, then that was for the better. Rhys would make sure Beckett and Sebastian were safe and taken care of.

Even if it was at the expense of his own happiness.

Again.

“Sebastian,” he choked out his brother’s name, so close to the car door now he could smell his father’s cigar smoke. “If I haven’t told you lately, or ever…I love you.”

“Rhys,” his brother argued. “You don’t have to go. We’ll figure it out.”

But Rhys knew better, so he climbed into the car with his father and went back home.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

BECKETT IS HELPLESS

After Rhys and Sebastian left, silence settled over the table, and Beckett did everything he could to avoid Remington’s thoughtful gaze.

“I apologize for him,” Remington said, fork scraping across his plate.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do.”

He finally looked up, finding Remington’s expression worried and earnest.

“It’s not your place,” Beckett said. “It’s not for you.”

“That’s fair,” Remington agreed.

“They’re really so much the same.”

Remington chuckled and raised his glass for a drink, leaning back in his chair and stretching out. “Sebastian idolized Rhys when they were kids. Maybe to a fault.”