Page 66 of Change

Bryce’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Um… I know?”

“And you’re going to go with me to Eric Richards’ house,” I told him.

“What are you talking about?” His expression shifted into something dark. His brows lowered in anger, as he responded in a low voice. “You’re not going there.”

I put my hands on my waist, barely resisting the urge to laugh. It wasn’t nearly as frightening to have this conversation with Bryce. “I’m going with Titus, Damen, and Uncle Gregory whether you like it or not.”

“Uncle Gregory isokaywith this?” His sage eyes darkened, but then he shook his head, seemingly not bothered by the elder’s acceptance.

That’s what I was assuming, at least. Titus was the one who’d told me he was going.

“It doesn’t matter. As yourolder brother, I’m not allowing it.” Bryce had jumped to his feet, stopping only a foot away from me. He also put his hands on his hips as he argued, “Your mental well-being is my responsibility. I can’t let you go back there.”

Instead of being outraged, I was almost touched at the flicker of concern in his eyes.

But he was wrong. My mental health was no one’s responsibility but my own. What was it going to take for everyone to realize this?

Besides, “If you care so much about my feelings, why did you force me to go to the hospital?”

He straightened as his argument wavered, and I could tell that he was considering his next words carefully.

I didn’t rush him. I wanted to hear his perspective.

“I had to make a choice,” Bryce finally responded. He sounded almost defeated, but there was a hint of stubborn determination there too. “And I decided that your physical health had to come before your mental health, because it would be neglectful of me to allow anything else. You can’t leave a root-bound plant to suffocate because you don’t want to risk hurting it, otherwise you’re not helping at all.”

Well… When he put it that way, it made sense.

Instead of being offended, something about this fierce protectiveness caused my chest to feel light as air.

He did care.

But I still didn’t like it. Plus, it remained that we had to reach an understanding.

“Fine.” I wrapped my arms around my stomach, my attention drifting to the top of the tall, oak dresser. Bryce was the minimalist sort, and only a few scattered items were spread out over the surface: his cell phone, a watch, the locket with our mother’s picture, and his wallet. I couldn’t spot any other personal effects anywhere in the room. “Then just don’t come as my brother.”

“That won’t work,” Bryce replied. “I’m always going to be your brother.”

My fingernails dug into my arms, and I breathed deeply, trying to keep my expression cool.

“Then you need to figure out how you’re going to balance being my brother with what I need to do.” I made sure to speak slowly, so that there was no misunderstanding. “Brayden too. I get that you have traditions, but you need to be flexible. Would you respect my decisions if I were a boy?”

Bryce was glaring at the floor. He was far more passionate about this than I expected. “Yes.” His voice was curt. “But it doesn’t matter. None of this would have happened if you were male.”

I brushed off his comment. “I’m going. You can either stay here or come with me. It’s your choice. But if you can’t trust me to make my own decisions, then you might as well resign.”

They could do that, right? I wasn’t sure, but it felt like the right solution.

I hoped he wouldn’t quit.

His jaw clenched, but it was obvious from his expression that he was giving in.

“And stop trying to tell me what to wear,” I added for good measure. His snide comments about my skirts and pajamas were getting rather annoying.

He looked up, affronted. “No.” He set his mouth in a grim line and squared his shoulder. “That has absolutely nothing to do with you being the Xing. I’m protecting your dignity.”

I groaned, covering my eyes. We’d gotten somewhere, at least, but then there was this.

There’d been too much adventure today. This could be another fight for later.

“Whatever,” I mumbled under my breath. But as I started to leave, he touched my arm, stopping me.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try,” he said. “I know we’re not… there yet. But we will be.”

‘There,’ as in at that stage in our relationship where he could tell me what to do (which would be never)? Or ‘there,’ which was to take me wherever he called home?

I didn’t think I wanted to know.