The Home-wrecker (The Goode Brothers)
The Home-wrecker: Chapter 50

My arm is in a sling, and I’m lying on my couch next to my brother Isaac. There’s a football game on, but I’m not paying much attention. Instead, I’m scrolling on my phone, trying to get used to doing anything with my left hand.

I hate the way meds make me feel, but the pain is worse. The screws in my arm are at least keeping it steady, but the bones in my hand will have to heal on their own.

I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.

“Wanna play Gran Turismo?” Isaac asks. “You could probably steer with one hand.”

He gives me a sympathetic smile, and I force one in return. Ruffling his hair, I reply, “Nah. Thanks, though.”

When his gaze drifts down to my blue and swollen fingers peeking out of the cast, he winces. “I hope I never get in a fight. Does it hurt?”

Staring at my little brother, the image of him going through what I went through makes me sick. His face pressed against the concrete. Cruel feet stomping on him. Relentless kicks against his rib cage.

Bile rises in my throat.

I want to tell Isaac that it wasn’t a fight. It was a slaughter.

My little brother might not survive that. I want to make him understand that people can be cruel and hateful, and like-minded ignorance is stronger in numbers.

Around here, they would do worse to him for less.

I have to swallow down the lump building in my throat.

No. I’ll protect him. I can keep him safe—at least for as long as I’m around.

“Listen to me,” I reply soberly. “I don’t want you ever getting in a fight like me. You just keep your head down and don’t go thinking you’re tough enough to take them because you’re not. Don’t do anything to provoke them or give them a reason to hate you.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, clearly scared by my sudden humorless demeanor. He tries to laugh it off, so I grab his arm with my good hand.

“I’m serious, Isaac. High school can be brutal, and I won’t be around forever to protect you. Just…blend in, okay?”

His expression settles as he stares into my eyes, and that’s when I can tell he gets what I’m implying. I hate that I have to ask my brother to conform because of the close-minded world we live in. It feels wrong, but I refuse to let him go through what I did.

“Relax, Caleb,” he says softly, patting my arm.

Forcing myself to breathe, I rest against the back of the sofa and stare numbly at the TV. We watch the game for a while. I order a pizza while he puts some headphones on and hums a tune I’ve never heard before.

When there’s a knock at the door, I stand from the couch and go to answer it.

I expect it to be our pizza, but when I open it to find young Dean standing on the welcome mat, my eyes narrow, and I close the door a little to block Isaac from view.

His eyes rake over my broken arm and bruised-up face.

“Hey…” he stammers. “Is Isaac here?”

“No,” I answer coldly. “He’s, uh, off with some friends.”

Pain crosses Dean’s face and I hate myself. His molars clench, and I know he can tell I’m lying.

“I don’t believe you,” he mumbles.

“You don’t have to believe me,” I reply.

He stares at me with hatred, but I don’t care.

“You just don’t like your brother dating a guy,” he says like it’s supposed to hurt my feelings.

“No, I don’t like my brother dating someone that’s going to get him hurt.”

“I’m going to get him hurt?” he replies.

I step outside, closing the door behind me. “Yes, Dean. You’re too reckless. You think we live in a world where it’s safe to be yourself, and we don’t. Hate me if you want to, but you need to stay away from my brother.”

I can see his fists tighten at his sides and his nostrils flare as if he’s fighting off tears.

“Fine,” he mutters before backing away. Before leaving, he lets out a dry and emotionless, “Fuck you, Caleb. You’re an asshole.”

That’s fine, I think as I watch him walk away angrily. I’ll be the asshole. Anything to keep my brother safe.

Present Day

“Is that you?”

When I turn back around, the fans are mostly scattered, and Theo Virgil is standing alone on the opposite side of a tall chain-link fence. He’s staring at me quizzically.

“It’s me,” I mutter as I take one single step toward him.

Our eyes meet. One city street and nine years between us. Time slows as I take another step.

“Did you come to my show?” he asks.

Shamefully, I shake my head. “I missed it. But I thought if I hurried, I could at least see you.”

His eyes dart around, looking behind me as he asks, “Are you alone?”

I nod.

Then silence settles between us. His smile fades and in its place is a tense, flat-lipped expression. He should yell at me, tell me to never come back, leave him alone. He should swear me to secrecy and be furious at me for even showing up.

Instead, he shrugs. “Wanna grab a beer?”

I could cry as a laugh slips through my lips. Without letting the emotion brewing inside me bubble over the top, I clear my throat and stare at the pavement. “Yeah. I’d like that a lot.”

“I’ll meet you around the front. There’s a bar next door.”

“Okay,” I say, my voice cracking.

As he disappears, I blow out a heavy breath.

Get it together, Caleb.

With my hands in my pockets, feigning calmness, I walk to the front of the venue. And then Isaac is standing right in front of me. I nearly forgot how tall he was, probably a few inches taller than me.

He traded his cowboy hat for a trucker hat and his jean jacket for a hoodie.

And now we’re just staring like two old friends who ran into each other. I want to break down, grab him, and haul him into a hug as I sob into his shoulder. But I don’t. I keep my cool.

His eyes are glued to my face. “You look good,” he mumbles. “You’re so grown up.”

“So are you,” I reply, struggling to keep it together.

We’re strangers. My little brother and I are strangers, and it hurts so much I don’t know if I can get down a beer without sobbing.

“Come on,” he replies, leading the way to the hole-in-the-wall bar next door. As we enter, Isaac walks directly to the bar, grabbing a stool as I take the one next to him. We order a couple of beers like this is just a casual drink.

I’m practically shaking inside.

The bartender hands us two longneck bottles and I hold it up to my brother. “Cheers,” I say.

He taps his against mine. “Cheers.”

When we drink, we keep our eyes on each other, and I decide that I want this entire encounter to be about him. I want to hear everything. And I don’t want him to know about Dad or Adam or any of that bullshit.

“So, Theo Virgil,” I say with a smile as I turn toward him. “How did this happen?”

He laughs to himself bashfully. “I moved out to Nashville with a friend. I started bartending at a place with live music, and after a while, I started writing my own songs, and a few years back, I got on stage for the first time and started playing them.”

I can’t stop smiling. “That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

He tips his bottle toward me before taking a swig. “And how did you find me?”

It’s my turn to look bashful. “I’m a lawyer now. I find out everything.”

He nods with a laugh. “You and Briar are still together?”

“Yep,” I reply, wanting to turn the conversation back toward him, but then I realize something.

Abby.

I quickly pull out my phone, the picture of her on the lock screen. When I point it toward Isaac, his lips part as his eyes gaze at the smiling little girl on the screen. It’s an old picture. Abby was only about three, with a big cheesy grin. I think we took it on Easter when Briar put her in a flowery pink dress and placed her in a big flowerpot in our front yard.

“Oh my god,” Isaac whispers.

“Her name is Abby. She’s almost seven now. Hang on. Let me find some more pics.”

My phone is full of photos and I must scroll through a hundred of them, showing Isaac. He devours each one, smiling from ear to ear as I tell him all about her.

“Caleb, she’s incredible,” he mumbles. “I can’t believe you have a kid.”

As I put my phone back in my pocket, I don’t point out that I’m thirty-three now and I’ve been married for ten years. Having a kid isn’t all that surprising for guys like me, but for Isaac, I’m still twenty-three, just out of college, and newly married. That’s where I was in my life before he left.

Couple years later, Briar was pregnant.

Things grow silent between us for a moment. I wonder if he’s curious about the rest of the family. Does he want to know how things are with Mom or Dad? Does he know about what Adam has been through this year? Is he curious about Luke?

Or is all of that too heavy? This is just a casual beer. It’s not the time to get into all the family drama and face the hard truth that nearly a decade has gone by since I’ve spoken with my brother.

He picks at the label of his beer when I finally decide to face the elephant head-on.

“I nearly messaged you so many times.”

He looks up and stares into my eyes. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I felt bad for even knowing your secret,” I reply. “And I don’t want to mess up everything you have going for yourself, Isaac.”

He flinches at the use of that name. Does no one in his business even know the real him?

“I understand,” he replies sadly. “And I appreciate that.”

“But fuck,” I say in a low grumble. “I’ve missed you so much.”

His head snaps up as he stares in shock. “You have?”

“Of course, Isaac,” I reply in an urgent whisper. “I hate myself for not protecting you that night. I should have defended you⁠—”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” he snaps, closing his lips tightly.

I freeze, letting the words hang there. I don’t know if he’s referring to that night or our father or coming out.

But it doesn’t matter. I said this night was going to be about him, not me or our past. So I quickly drop it.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Of course. We don’t have to talk about any of that. I just want to hear about you. Tell me everything.”

He takes a drink, looking uncomfortable as he shrugs. “There’s not much to tell. But I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell everyone…”

“Of course,” I reply confidently. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks.”

Then, with a pause, I add, “I can tell Briar, right?”

“For sure,” Isaac replies with a shrug.

My jaw clenches before quickly throwing in, “And Dean?”

Isaac freezes, his eyes narrowing before glancing at me. “Dean? My Dean?”

Biting my bottom lip to keep me from grinning, I reply, “Well, he’s sort of my Dean now.”

Isaac couldn’t look more shocked. “Really?”

And that’s how I end up telling my little brother everything about how I pushed Dean away twelve years ago and how he reentered my life recently. I leave out the dirty details, of course.

“So, you’re…” he starts.

With the beer bottle at my lips, I finish the sentence for him. “Bisexual, I guess.”

This makes him laugh. “You guess?”

“Listen, this wasn’t supposed to be about me,” I argue, setting my drink down. “This was supposed to be about you.”

“No,” he argues. “I like hearing about you. I’ve…missed a lot.”

“Yeah,” I mumble to myself. “You have.”

Before I know it, our beers are gone, and it feels like time is slipping through my fingers. I’m not ready to let him go again.

I pay the bartender, and we slide the empty bottles to the inside edge of the bar. Then we stand and face each other for a moment. He walks to the door first and I follow.

This whole thing feels like a fever dream. Did any of this really happen?

As we stand on the sidewalk in front of the bar, we shuffle our feet a bit, putting off this goodbye. I need to say something, but I don’t know how to express this.

“Thanks, Caleb,” he mutters under his breath. “I appreciate you coming.”

“I’d come to all of them if I could. But I want to give you your space, Isaac. I’m just happy that you’re free now.”

His head pops up. With a scoff, he says, “I’m not free.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“You think because I ran away from our dad that I’m free? You think there’s anywhere I can go to be free from him and people like him?”

“I—” The words are caught on my lips.

“Caleb, I didn’t run away to feel free. I ran away because I knew that if I stayed there, I’d hate myself just like he wanted me to.”

My chest is heaving as I receive this information. This entire time, I thought Isaac was free. And meanwhile, I’ve been trying to promise my family that same sense of freedom. To hear him say he’ll never have it is devastating.

“So we just have to live with his voice in our heads forever?” I ask. “Constantly telling us we’re not good enough.”

Isaac shrugs. “Music helps me drown the voices out.”

Glancing away, I stare unfocused at the glow of streetlights on the dark buildings. What is my distraction? What helps me drown out his voice?

There’s no hesitation—Briar, Abby, Dean.

We were never going to outrun other people’s judgment or my father’s hatred. There’s nowhere we could move that would give us that freedom. But we can give each other peace.

If we let Dean go, we’d be letting them win. Truett Goode would get exactly what he wants.

I can’t let that happen.

“Everything okay?” Isaac asks.

“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “I just…realized something.”

He nods, a lopsided smirk on his face. “Well, you should go…be with your family.”

“I am,” I reply, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Before I have a chance to go in for a hug, he closes the distance, wrapping his arms around me. Feeling how tightly he holds me shatters my resolve.

In the blink of an eye, my tears are staining his hoodie as I let the emotion roll through me. A sob escapes when I feel him do the same.

“I love you, Isaac. And I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“I love you, too,” he replies, his voice cracking as he cries.

When we pull away from each other, our faces are a mess. Turning away, we quickly wipe our tears and compose ourselves.

“You know you can message me anytime,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I will,” I reply.

“Send me pictures of my niece. I’d really like that.”

Stepping backward, I smile at him. “I promise I will.”

“And uh…tell Dean I said hey.” He scratches the back of his neck as he smirks.

Laughing, I clear my throat. “You got it.”

“Bye, Caleb,” he says, waving at me as he walks toward the van at the back of the venue.

“Bye, Theo,” I call, making him laugh. “Good luck on the rest of your tour.”

“Thanks,” he replies before turning away.

One of his bandmates claps a hand on his back before Isaac jumps into the van.

And then that’s it. I’m in my car, driving home, tears streaming down my face as I replay that entire thing. It still feels like a dream, but a great dream.

For a brief moment, he gave me a piece of his life, and if that’s all I can get for now, I can live with that.

I keep thinking about what he said about feeling free. How we never truly escape our father’s judgment. And it makes me realize that if I’ll never escape the thoughts he’s planted in my head, then what is the point of running?

Just like the day I woke up in that hospital, swearing to Briar that I’d endure far worse for her, I want to be able to promise Dean the same thing. Whatever the world wants to throw at us, we can take it.

Toss us into the fires of hell if it wants to. For this love we share, it would still be worth it.