Page 73 of Mr. Brightside

My heart catches in my throat as I accept defeat. There’s a familiar prickle of unease nudging at my subconscious, but deep down, I know I have nothing to be ashamed of.

This isn’t ten years ago. Julian isn’t Joe. I’m not cowering in fear and letting him win to try to protect myself from his wrath. I’m letting him win because I care aboutthemtoo much to lose them over something as inconsequential as my brother’s dislike of me.

“It was good to see you, Julian. Do you want me to drive the girls back home or…”

I trail off and leave it up to him. He’s their father, after all. And if Julian is anything like what I remember—like the man who raised us—I know right now he’s desperate for control.

A wrinkle forms between his brows as he stares. Then, without replying, he turns on his loafer-clad heel and stalks toward the girls.

“Fiona. Amelia. Let’s go.”

Fiona hops to her feet but keeps a measured distance from Julian. Amelia grumbles something unintelligible and moves into a kneeling position but doesn’t take her eyes off the grass.

“Amelia Marie Whitely.Now.”

I cringe at his tone while Amelia acts unaffected. The only way a scolding like that doesn’t land is if you’re numb to it. I know from experience. I hear her mutter “yes, father” under her breath as she drags her feet and follows him toward the car.

I stand stock still and watch them go, but Fiona and I must be thinking the same thing at that moment. She’s just brave enough to voice it.

“Wait, Dad. What about the van?”

And then Mimi chimes in. “Yeah, wait! Your car doesn’t even have car seats!”

Fuck. She’s too smart for her own good.

I try not to stew in judgment of my brother’s lack of parenting prowess. But given what just happened and knowing the ego behind the man, I take off across the parking lot at a clipped pace. He’s not stupid. But I wouldn’t put it past Julian to buckle them up in his back seat sans car seats just to prove a point.

“Here’s the van key,” I assert, shoving it into his hand. “Ashleigh’s event ends at two. She has my car, so I’ll wait here. When we swap back, she can drive your car home.”

I don’t give him time to respond. I assume Ashleigh has a key for his car, and if not, he can leave it on the dash. All I care about is getting the girls home safe.

I turn away and head back in the direction of the splash pad, then think better of it. Without the girls with me, it’s creepy as hell for a guy in his midtwenties to be hanging out at the playground. I look both ways, then jog across the street, striding up the hill that sits at the edge of the skate park.

I pick out a secluded spot and plop down on the grass, stretching out as I stare up at the sky.

I type out a text to Ashleigh, detailing everything that happened with Julian and the girls. I try to give her just the facts. I want her to be informed—she needs to be prepared.

Once Ashleigh replies, I send off another message.

Jake: Hey Bro. Any chance you can call me?

My phone is vibrating in my hand ten seconds later.

“Hey,” I answer miserably. If there’s anyone I can be real with about what the hell just happened, it’s Rhett.

“Hey, yourself. Why do you sound weird?”

I hold in a laugh. Leave it to my best friend to call me on my shit right out of the gate. This is why I called him in the first place.

“Just had an epically horrible afternoon,” I confess.

“Uh-oh. You got boy problems, buddy?”

I don’t bother holding in a chuckle at that one. Although I do correct him. Rhett hates being wrong.

“Bro. When have Ieverhad boy problems? Seriously? It’s like you don’t even know me.”

I can hear his grin through the phone. “I mean, do you blame me for questioning it? Youdidgo from proud relationship virgin to married man in less than a week. Being a husband is a lot harder than being a fuckboy.”