I open my eyes to find Callan slumped in the chair under the window. The white fluorescent lights are blinding. There’s an ache in my chest, which grips my lungs painfully. Breathing is difficult. I want out of this fucking hospital bed.

I try to shuffle up, but the agony that shoots through me is excruciating.

“Cal,” I croak. My throat burns. “Callan,” I call again, causing my brother to jerk up and stare at me. “I need water.” He moves quickly, pouring some from the jug at the foot of my bed.

“I thought I’d lost you there, brother.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easy,” I retort, wincing at the burning in my throat.

He hands me the cup. “Be nice to me, or you won’t get out of here.”

“What did they say? I want to go home.” He nods in understanding. He’s been in this position a few times before. Nothing like this, but I’ve had to break him out of the hospital when the doctors wanted to keep him drugged up for no reason.

Callan and I grew up hard. We didn’t need to be coddled. If one of us got hurt, we would get up, dust ourselves off, and move along, and that’s what I want to do.

“I need to talk to you before though,” Callan starts. When I meet his gaze, I have a feeling I know what this is about. Peyton.

“I don’t want to hear it, Cal.”

“You don’t want to, but you have no choice but to listen.” I sigh, because he’s right. Nodding, I wait for him to continue. “She believes you love her because she looks like Rory.”

“How do you know?” I question, frowning at his assessment of the woman I do love.

“I’m not stupid, Rick. I’ve been finding out information on people for a long time, and this is no different. I can tell. The thing is, I know it’s not true. So, I’m going to talk to her.”

“No.”

We’ve reached an impasse. He wants to tell Peyton to fight for me when I didn’t fight for her. She saw me with another woman, and that’s when she went to Oliver. I didn’t have a right to be angry, but I was. More than I thought I could be.

Jealousy is something I’d never dealt with, but with Peyton, it burns through me. Not only thinking about her with another man, but seeing her with Oliver set off something inside me. I’m being unreasonable. I can’t have her, so no other man can. It’s wrong. I shouldn’t do that to her, but I can’t help it.

“You love her,” he states, settling back in the chair. “She loves you. This is a ridiculous game of cat and mouse you’re both playing, Rick. Why not just be a man and tell her? Grow some fucking balls, man.”

All my life, my brother has been the strong one. He’s also been the one to fix shit. And I know he’s trying to do that now with Peyton. I should thank him. He’s right. I need to man up. She deserves someone who’ll not only fight for her, but someone who will kill for her.

That’s me.

“Are you going to let me help you fix this shit you got yourself into?” His question stills me. Do I? If I allow him to get Peyton to give me a second chance, will I be able to give her everything she needs from me? I want to.

“She’ll never take me back. She saw me in Sins with that chick on my lap and lost her shit.” His eyes narrow at my words. He shakes his head in disappointment. I feel it right down to my bones. He sighs then pushes up from the chair.

“I’m heading out to see Madison,” he tells me, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. He’s lying. I’ve learned my brother’s nuances a long while ago. When he tells me something and can’t meet my eyes, I know he’s bullshitting me.

“If you go near Peyton—”

“Fuck off, Rick. I’ll be back in a few hours. I need to release some tension, and that means I get to fuck that sweet little cunt of the precious Madison Parker,” he smirks devilishly.

“You’re an asshole. Her father is going to—”

“Her father won’t do shit to me. I’ll kill him before he even blinks my way. The asshole is a prim and proper pussy, and you know what I do with pussies. I fuck them up until they’re bleeding pretty crimson.”

He winks as he makes his way to the door.

“And don’t forget,” he says before leaving. “You and Peyton need to sort your shit out, so don’t go dying on me.” And then he’s out the door. Shaking my head, I lie back and stare at the ceiling. He’s right. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I know he’s right.

Fuck.