The Home-wrecker (The Goode Brothers)
The Home-wrecker: Part 3 – Chapter 26

Part 3 – The Home-Wrecker

“We have dinner at my parents’…er, I mean my mother’s tonight,” I say, stepping out of the shower. Briar just woke up from a long nap, and judging by the look on her face, she’d rather spend the rest of the night in bed than go to someone else’s house.

“Mind if I skip it?” she asks, looking run-down.

“Of course not,” I reply, kissing the side of her head. “I’ll take Abby. You relax. Take a bubble bath.”

“Are you sure?” Her expression is etched with concern. And I know deep down she’s thinking about the news we got the other day and how she doesn’t want me to have to face my family alone.

“I’ll be fine. It’s just dinner.”

“Okay, I appreciate it,” she mumbles to herself as she turns the faucet on the tub. “Just grab Abby from Dean’s before you go.”

I get ready in a rush, noticing the time. My hair is still wet as I jog up the stairs to Dean’s place. Knocking on the door, I hear laughter inside.

“Come in,” Dean calls, and when I open the door, I find him and Abby sitting on the couch, each of them with a video game controller in their hands and what looks like Grand Theft Auto playing on the screen.

Shaking my head, I walk into the apartment and stand behind the couch as my six-year-old daughter hijacks a fictional Impala on the screen.

“Briar would have your head if she knew you were letting her play this,” I say with a cold, hard stare in his direction.

He lets out a laugh as he shrugs. “I didn’t let her pick up any prostitutes.”

“Jesus,” I mutter to myself. Then I tap Abby’s shoulder. “Come on, peanut. We have to go to Nana’s for dinner.”

“Can Dean come?” she replies excitedly.

I quickly shake my head before glancing over at him. “No, honey. I doubt he wants to.” When he doesn’t immediately turn it down, I add, “Do you…want to go to my mom’s for dinner?”

“Do you really want me to?” he asks Abby.

“Yes!” she replies, hopping up and down on the couch cushion. “Come on. Please!”

“If it’s okay with your dad,” he says with a shrug.

I’m frozen for a second. Dean and I alone together? For some reason, it feels both terrifying and exciting. A few days ago, we were at each other’s throats. He’s still harboring resentment toward me for what happened over a decade ago, and now he’s going to come with me to dinner at my mom’s like everything is fine.

“Of course, it’s okay,” I stammer, looking down.

“Nana is such a good cook,” Abby replies, tossing the controller on the couch.

“I know that,” Dean says flatly.

She screws up her face. “How do you know?”

“I used to eat dinner at your Nana’s house all the time when I was a kid.”

She throws her head back in exaggerated shock. “You did?”

“Yep. I was good friends with your dad’s brother,” he replies, but I start to tense. The conversation is growing far too close to the one topic we don’t talk about.

“Uncle Adam?” she says excitedly.

“No.”

“That’s enough,” I say with a low growl.

“Your uncle Isaac,” he finishes, and it feels like all of the air is sucked out of the room.

“Oh,” Abby replies, sinking into the sofa. “I haven’t met him.”

Dean’s eyes cast up to me, that familiar grief in his gaze. “Yeah, I know,” he says lowly.

I let his hurt-filled expression burn for a moment before I swallow and turn away. “We should get going,” I mutter.

In the car, Abby talks the entire time, but Dean and I stay quiet. When she distracts herself by singing to the song on the radio, I turn toward the man in my passenger seat.

“Don’t bring up Isaac at dinner, please,” I say softly.

“I won’t,” he replies while staring out the window.

“This dinner is going to be awkward enough,” I finish. My hand grips the steering wheel a little tighter. Dean turns toward me, looking offended.

“Why? Because I’ll be there?”

My brows pinch inward as I shake my head. “What? No.”

“Then why will it be awkward?”

Tilting my head to the side, I look at him again, trying to read his expression and decipher whether or not he’s joking.

“You don’t watch the news, do you?”

“Fuck no.”

My jaw clenches, and he must be able to see my contempt because he quickly corrects himself.

“Sorry. I mean, heck no. Why? What’s going on?”

I let out a sigh. I’m not entirely sure how much I want to get into on this car ride, but what the hell? I already let the man get a blow job from my wife. Might as well let him in on the family drama while I’m at it.

“On Friday, my father made a statement that I would be taking over his defense in getting him a lesser charge.” I spit out the truth. Just saying it makes me sick.

“You can’t seriously…” he starts.

Appalled, I glare at him. “Of course not. I could never…”

“Have you told Adam that?”

“Not yet,” I confess.

“Your family is great at communication.”

“Very funny.” I groan, side-eyeing him.

“So just tell him,” Dean suggests.

“I plan on it, but you know Adam and Sage. When it comes to her, my brother can be a little hotheaded. I know my brother, and I know he’s angry. Which means he will want to lash out.”

“And you’re just going to let him?”

Turning toward him, I give him an expression that is, for once, not full of spite or anger. “What choice do I have?”

When we reach my mother’s house, I pull into the drive, and Abby is already bolting out of the car before I even have it in park. She rushes into my mother’s waiting arms. My mom is sitting on one of the white rockers on the porch, and she gives Abby a long squeeze as Dean and I climb out of the SUV.

The moment my mother spots Isaac’s old best friend, I see her expression change.

“Oh my,” she says with a gasp. “Is that little Dean Sheridan? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Standing from the chair, she hops down the front porch steps to pull him into a warm embrace.

“Hi, ma’am. Thanks for having me for dinner…again.”

She laughs as she releases him, squeezing his arms and staring up into his eyes. I had wondered if seeing Dean would be hard on my mother, but then I forgot just how strong this woman is. Is there anything she hasn’t endured? She takes it all in stride—with a smile and Southern charm to boot.

“Oh, of course!” she croons. “You are welcome anytime. My, how you’ve grown!”

I can see her squeezing his arms as if she’s testing out the firmness of his muscles.

“Mother, stop it,” I mumble with a laugh as I lean down and press a kiss to her cheek.

She finally releases Dean and welcomes us into the house.

“You’re the first ones here,” she says, leading us toward the kitchen. “Let me get you something to drink. Sweet tea or lemonade?”

“Sweet tea, please, ma’am,” Dean says with a polite nod. Seeing him use his manners is pretty endearing, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

“Oh, stop it with that ma’am stuff,” she replies with a laugh as she pulls out the pitcher from the fridge. “Caleb likes sweet tea too.”

With a wink, she pours two glasses for us. Abby climbs onto the tall stool by the kitchen island.

“And my little gabby Abby likes sweet tea and lemonade mixed together, don’t you?” my mother says with a smile.

Abby nods with excitement.

After our drinks are poured, my mother looks at me over the rim of her glass. “And how are you doin’, baby?” she asks.

My mom’s concern for me always makes me feel like I’m seven years old again. It’s as if she worries about me more than she worries about Adam, Luke, or even Isaac. Adam is older. He’s always thrived under the wing of our father until recently. And Luke flew the nest as soon as he could, paving his own path in the world without ever looking back.

But me? I stayed. Close to home. Close to her. My life never strayed from the road I was meant to take.

Find a nice girl. Get married. Have kids. Live a good life.

And Briar made that life so easy. I was meant for her and the family we’ve created.

But it doesn’t change the fact that my mother often looks at me like I’m the one who never grew wings to fly. And it’s not until recently that I’ve started to wonder if she’s right. I was too scared to take the leap. Time and time again.

A car door closes loudly in the driveway, and the three of us standing in the kitchen all freeze in anticipation, waiting to hear if it’s Lucas or Adam.

Angry footsteps echo up the gravel pathway.

“Caleb!” my brother barks from the front door.

Adam.

He marches up the stairs to my father’s office because he knows better than to start an argument with me in front of my daughter or our mother. So he’s doing what my father often did. Reserve hard conversations for the confines of his office, pretending the things that happen behind those closed doors don’t affect the rest of the world.

“I’ll be right back,” I say lowly as I set my glass of tea on the counter.

My mother gives me a sympathetic expression as I turn and leave. I pass Sage on my way up the stairs, but she forces a tight, uneasy smile, which I can’t bring myself to return.

Before I disappear into my father’s office, I feel a hand on my arm. Turning, I find Dean standing right behind me.

“I’m coming with you,” he says.

“What? No. It’s between my brother and me.”

His demeanor doesn’t falter. “I don’t care. I’m coming with you.”

Accepting that he won’t change his mind, I walk into my father’s office and close the door behind me. Dean is standing so close to me his arm brushes mine as we face Adam, who doesn’t seem to care that I brought someone else into the room.

“Tell me this isn’t happening,” he barks at me. “Tell me you’re not helping our monster of a father get out of this charge. Tell me he’s a fucking liar, Caleb.”

I shove my hands in my pockets and turn to face my brother. I want to tell him that when he acts like this, full of rage and animosity, he looks so much like Truett.

“He’s a liar,” I say calmly.

“What the fuck?!” he shouts.

“Keep your voice down,” I reply.

“Why would he say that? Why the fuck would he think you’re going to help him? He tried to kill the love of my life. He nearly did!”

I see the anger in my brother’s eyes, and I understand it. If it were Briar who had been hurt and any of my brothers dared to even tiptoe to my father’s side, I would lose my mind with rage. So I get it.

But that doesn’t mean I know how to make him feel better.

“Because I met with him,” I say flatly.

Immediately, Adam’s eyes go wide. “You what?”

“I met with him last week. I didn’t tell him I would help him, but I heard him out.”

“The fuck, Caleb?” Adam shouts.

Luke warned me that Adam wouldn’t want to hear that. But I won’t lie.

“Calm down,” Dean breaks in with the same authoritative tone he used the other night.

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Adam snaps. “How could you do this, Caleb?”

“I didn’t do anything, Adam!” I argue. “He’s lying, probably to pit us against each other, which is what we’re doing right now. You’re playing right into his hands.”

“Fuck you, Caleb,” Adam shouts, and I notice Dean tensing at my side.

Then, for some reason, I decide to throw an accelerant on the fire. Maybe deep down, I want to see how angry I can get my brother. Maybe I want to see how much of this I can take.

“You do realize,” I start, taking a step toward my brother. “That a lesser charge would be easier to convict and faster to get him into prison.”

Adam’s eyes go wild as he marches toward me. “I know you didn’t just say that to me.”

I’m waiting for our argument to turn into an all-out brawl like it did when we were kids. If he punches me right now, I deserve it. But that doesn’t mean I won’t fight back.

Before he can reach me, a tall figure steps between us. Standing tall and immovable, Dean takes a protective stance in front of me.

My lips part as I stare at him in astonishment.

“That’s enough,” he mutters to my brother.

“This doesn’t involve you, Dean,” Adam growls in return.

“If you plan on laying your hands on him, it does.”

It feels like the floor gives out beneath me. Even my brother’s face morphs into surprise. He stares at Dean with confusion as he takes a step back.

I replay the words that just came out of Dean’s mouth to gauge if they’re as protective and intimate as I think they are. Or maybe it’s all in my head. Maybe I’m hearing things the way I want to hear them.

Adam doesn’t ask questions or demand to know why my tenant is suddenly so defensive of me. He lets the anger drain from his face as his gaze dances back and forth from Dean to me and back again.

His rage doesn’t dissipate entirely, but he gets control of it as he mutters at me ruefully, “Promise me you won’t help that man, brother.”

I stare at Adam with assurance. “I would never help him.”

As Dean steps aside, giving my brother and me some breathing room, the three of us take a moment to compose ourselves. And when I expect questions or someone to address the elephant in the room, no one does.

Instead, Adam opens the door and vehemently storms downstairs. Left alone with Dean, I glance in his direction before he has the chance to leave. When his eyes meet mine, it feels like the underwear situation all over again.

A thousand words and possibilities exist in the long moments of silence when the things we should express get left unsaid.

And just like that, he walks away and heads downstairs.