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Bridger

I stand outside Garret’s apartment, staring at his door with its cheap paint and crooked numbers, trying to get my shit together. The night air seeps through my jacket, but the chill has nothing to do with why my hands are shaking.

I could bail. Turn around, go home, pretend I never found out the truth that’s eating me alive.

But I didn’t come this far to chicken out now.

Before I can overthink it, I knock. The sound echoes through the empty hallway, loud enough to make me wince. My knuckles sting, but I barely notice over the way my heart’s trying to punch through my ribs. The seconds drag as I wait, counting breaths until I hear footsteps approaching from within the apartment.

My pulse jumps when Garret opens the door, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to a wall of ice.

“What do you want, Sanderson?” He blocks the doorway, arms crossed.

I clench my fists at my sides. There’s no point in dancing around this. “I know.”

For a split second, confusion clouds his face before his defenses snap back into place. “You... She told you?”

“No.” A bitter laugh escapes. “Dick did.”

Garret’s jaw tightens, his posture going rigid. The air between us feels thick enough to choke on.

“Let me guess.” He leans against the doorframe, his casualness belying the thick tension that radiates off him. “You’re here to remind me that you’ll be the one who gets the keys to the kingdom?”

“I don’t want a damn thing from him. You want it? Take it.”

Something flashes in his eyes. Doubt maybe, or disbelief.

“I came to talk,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “Can I come in?”

There’s a brief hesitation before he steps back and gestures for me to come inside. “Fine.”

I step into the small apartment. The faint scent of stale coffee hangs in the air. The furniture is mismatched. There’s an old plaid couch, a wobbly side table, and a chair that’s seen better days. It feels oddly comforting in its imperfections. It’s the kind of place that has been lived in, a stark contrast to the cold, museum-like perfection of Dick’s mansion. Somehow, this feels more real.

Garret takes the chair by the window, leaving me the couch. I hesitate before sitting down, the cushion sagging slightly beneath my weight. The physical distance is nothing compared to the years of lies that stretch between us. His expression falters for a fraction of a second, and something vulnerable flashes in his eyes before the disdain returns.

I can’t stop staring at him, searching for proof. Something in the jaw, maybe. The eyes. The kind of thing that should’ve told me we shared blood all along.

“What?” he snaps when he catches me looking.

I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. “Sorry. I just... I don’t know where to start. This is a lot.”

He leans back in the chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Yeah, no kidding.”

The tension in the room presses down on me until it becomes unbearable. “How long have you known?”

His lips curve into something that’s not quite a smile. “I met Richard when I was ten. He’d show up every few months, have dinner, write a check, then disappear again. Real father-of-the-year material.”

My stomach churns. “That was it?”

“He had his ‘real’ family.” Garret’s jaw clenches. “We were just an afterthought.”

I think about Dick’s cold presence in my life and how much I’ve hated it. And yet, sitting here, I realize that Garret might have traded places with me in a heartbeat, just for the chance to matter to him.

“I didn’t know,” I say quietly. “I never suspected?—”

“Of course you didn’t,” Garret interrupts, his eyes hard. “Richard made damn sure of that. He keeps everything in nice, neat boxes so nothing spills over.”

The bitterness in his tone lingers in the air, and I don’t know what to say to make it better.

I lean forward, my elbows pressing into my knees as I search his face for answers. “Did you know about me? That you had a brother?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Richard never talked about his personal life. I just thought he was a businessman who traveled a lot. That’s what I told people when they asked about my dad.”

“What about freshman year?” The question burns on my tongue. “When we met?”

“Funny thing,” he says, though there isn’t a trace of humor in his voice. “He told me he didn’t want me playing hockey, said it was a distraction or some bullshit like that. But I refused to budge. Hockey’s the only thing I’ve ever had.” His gaze hardens, his voice dropping. “Now I realize it was never about hockey. He didn’t want us on the same ice, in the same room, figuring out the truth.”

Another piece of the puzzle clicks into place, and I exhale slowly. “He didn’t want me to play either. For years, he’s been pushing me to quit.”

Something sparks in Garret’s eyes. Understanding maybe, or solidarity. “It didn’t take long to put it together after we met.”

I sit back as his words sink in. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Garret glances away as his jaw tightens. “Richard said he’d handle it when the time was right, and I believed him. Took a while to figure out the joke was on me.” His voice cracks slightly as he pushes through it. “There was never going to be a right time. He was never going to acknowledge me. My mom had to threaten him just to get him to take responsibility at all. And even then, it was all behind closed doors. Like I didn’t exist.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. The words feel inadequate. “You didn’t deserve that shit.”

Garret blinks, his expression unreadable. Then he leans back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders loosening. “All my life, I’ve been a dirty little secret,” he says quietly. “And I got tired of it.”

I nod, the air between us heavy with unspoken understanding. “No one should have to feel that way.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence that stretches between us feels like a fragile thread.

I lean forward, locking eyes with Garret, my voice low but steady. “Is that why you started fucking with me?” For the first time, the anger that’s been burning in my gut feels hollow.

He exhales slowly as his expression remains guarded. “I wanted him to see that you weren’t the perfect son. That you weren’t untouchable.”

A humorless chuckle escapes from my throat. “Perfect? He never thought I was perfect. Hell, it was always the opposite. Most of the time, I was just a nuisance he had to deal with. Something to be fixed or ignored.”

Garret’s gaze sharpens, and his voice softens just enough to catch me off guard. “The bruises were from him, weren’t they?”

It’s not really a question. Even though part of me wants to deny it, to shove the truth back down where it can’t be exposed, I refuse to cover anything our asshole father has done.

“Yeah,” I admit quietly.

His face falls, guilt clouding his features like a shadow. “I’m sorry for dragging you through all of this.”

I let out a slow breath, the animosity between us easing as I sit back. “I’m not.”

“You aren’t?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m glad the truth is out there. For what it’s worth, I wish you’d just told me everything from the beginning. We could’ve had each other’s backs instead of whatever the hell this has been.”

He stares at me, his jaw working like he’s struggling to find the right words. Finally, he nods, his voice rough. “That probably would have been better.”

The silence between us feels heavy, but it’s not suffocating. It’s like the air has shifted. The tension replaced with something raw. Something real.

“We’re brothers,” I say softly. “We don’t have to keep tearing each other down. We’ve got enough shit to deal with without that.”

Garret drops his gaze to the floor. For a second, I think he might argue, but then he looks up. “Maybe it’s time we stop.”

It’s not a resolution, but it feels like a start.

I push to my feet, sliding my hands into my pockets. “I should go.”

He follows me to the door, leaning against the frame. The hostility from earlier is gone, replaced by something almost tentative. “I’m glad you stopped by.”

“Me too.” I hold his gaze. “We’ll figure this out.”

His nod feels real this time. No sarcasm, no bitterness. Just a quiet agreement to work through our relationship.

The cool air hits me as I step outside, clearing away the fog of tension that’s been clouding my head. I walk to my BMW, each step measured, like I’m testing new ground. When I slide behind the wheel, my chest feels tight, but not in the usual way. There isn’t the anger or frustration that’s become my constant companion.

It’s more like relief.

As if a missing piece has finally clicked into place.

My phone buzzes, and my stomach tightens when I see the name.

FragileLikeABomb

Just checking in to see how you are.

For the first time in years, I feel lighter.

Me

Truth?

FragileLikeABomb

Always.

Me

Feels like my life’s been blown apart.

Three dots appear, and I find myself leaning forward, my heart inexplicably racing as I wait for her reply.

FragileLikeABomb

Must be something in the air. Same here. Everything’s falling apart.

Her words hit like a jolt of electricity. I hesitate, debating whether to take this conversation where my mind is already going. But I can’t stop myself.

Me

The girl I’ve been seeing is amazing, but...

FragileLikeABomb

But what?

Something about her response makes my heart thump hard.

Me

I’m not sure I can trust her. She was keeping shit from me.

The pause feels endless. I grip the phone tighter as my pulse pounds in my ears. When her message comes through, it hits like a punch.

FragileLikeABomb

Trust is hard. Especially when you’re afraid of getting hurt. But if she’s worth it, you’ll find a way to work it out.

I stare at the screen, her words circling in my head. There’s something about the way she writes, the understanding in her tone. It feels... familiar.

Too familiar.

For a second, I wonder...

Could FragileLikeABomb and the girl I can’t stop thinking about be the same person?

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the thought.

No fucking way.

That’s impossible.

It has to be, right?

As I start the car, the pieces keep trying to align themselves. The timing of her messages. The way she gets me. How she always seems to know exactly what to say.

Maybe impossible isn’t the right word anymore.

After all, I just found out I have a brother.

What’s one more life-changing revelation?