“Shit!” Hot fury flares through my chest as Grace shoves past me. “What the fuck, Lance. What the hell did you do that for? What did you expect to gain out of it?” He painted me out to be some kind of monster.

What Grace hadn’t stayed long enough to hear, was that there had been some truth to what Lance had said, but some things were completely out of context. How could he say I meant for him to fall over the balcony? The way he said it sounded as though I wanted to kill him, my own brother.

Fine, Lance did meet Audrey first. And I did fall in love with her as well. Any hot-blooded teenager would have been blinded by her beauty. What Lance neglected to say was that, as kids, we enjoyed competing with each other. There were girls I was interested in and he also went after them.

“Nothing but the truth.” Lance puts down his bottle and folds his arms over his chest.

“Your version of the truth, dammit.” I kick one of his bottles and it smashes against the wall. I press my fists to the sides of my head, trying to push against the headache that’s slamming against my temples. “How much do you even remember? You were drunker than I was. How could you ever think I would push you over a balcony? You’re my brother, for fuck’s sake.”

“Then how did I end up like this?” Lance waves at his legs and my heart clenches.

“For the last time. I did not push you over the balcony. We were fighting and you fell over. It was never my intention, and for your information, I tried to grab you. I failed, all right? I failed, and it kills me every day.”

“You could have called for help.”

“And I did. I was the one who called the ambulance. But of course you wouldn’t have noticed because you were unconscious.” I mop the sweat off my forehead. “For you to think I’d leave you for dead is preposterous. I ran around like a freaking mad person, trying to get all the paperwork handled for your return home. That’s why when you woke up, I wasn’t by your side. If you had been awake before then, you would have found me in the waiting room, out of my mind with worry.”

“Poor Bryant.” Lance gives me a scathing smile. “Look at you, feeling sorry for yourself. You don’t realize how good you have it, do you? Want to know the truth?”

I’m too furious to respond.

“I don’t think you deserve a girl like Grace. She seems like a lovely person, kind and innocent. And you, you care nothing about her. You’re only interested in fucking her before tossing her aside like a used condom. Like you do with all the others. If you didn’t think with your cock all the time, you’d see how good you have it.” Lance’s face contorts with anger. “Instead, you go around treating women like dirt, when you have the chance to fall in love with a good woman, to start a family, to live a real life. But you’d rather screw bimbos.”

As his words hit home, I sink to the floor, my fingers buried in my hair. It’s as though since that night in Paris I’ve been wearing dark glasses and Lance has just now snatched them off my face. As I watch my brother, sitting there helpless, I see myself through his eyes. “Lance, I thought—I didn’t let myself fall in love with those women because I thought it was unfair to you. I felt I was doing you a favor.”

“Well, you’re not.” Lance leans back in his chair and closes his eyes. “You’re being selfish, flushing your life down the toilet.” He opens his eyes again and meets my gaze. “That woman, Grace, doesn’t look like your usual bimbo types. She seems real and her eyes told me she likes you, but you probably don’t deserve her.”

“You’re right. I don’t deserve her. I’m not worthy, Lance.” Lance’s words have entered my heart and are crushing it. I grab at my chest, grappling for air. “I don’t deserve to be loved by anyone. It may have been a mistake, you falling over that balcony, but I’m still at fault. I started the fight. How can I live my life when you can’t? It doesn’t feel right. It’s not fair.”

“And it’s fair for you to fuck up your life because mine is wrecked? You think that will change things?” He’s shouting now. “You think that would make it better, pull me out of the damn wheelchair, turn back time? That’s bullshit. By wasting your life, you’re just being a fucking dick. Whether I fell over the balcony by mistake or you threw me over, doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I’m so sorry,” I pant, my eyes boiling. “It kills me every day that you are in that wheelchair.”

“Fuck that. The fact that my life is on standby is none of your concern. It shouldn’t affect the course of your life.”

“I don’t want you to think I don’t care. I want . . .” Now that the anger has dissipated, leaving only pain, my voice is lower, broken.

“Fuck what you want.” Lance grabs one of his bottles again. The liquid inside sloshes as he speaks. “What about what I want?”

“Tell me what you want. Anything. I’ll do it.” Over the years I’ve offered Lance my help in several ways, but he never accepted. But then again, helping him was partly for my own relief, to alleviate my own guilt. Now he’s opening up. He needs me. “Anything.”

He’s quiet for a long time, his eyes never leaving mine. “What I want is for you to get your shit together, to grow up.” He breathes in a ragged breath. “I admit over the years I made you feel guilty. I lashed out at you because I wished your life was mine. I wish I were the one in your shoes. I keep thinking I would do things differently, better. And when I watch you wasting the life I wish I had, it pisses me off.”

“Who says you can’t live? You can have a life too, Lance, a good one. Maybe you’ll see that, if you’d only stop ingesting that poison.” I jab a finger in the direction of the bottle in his hand.

He lowers it to the floor. “I drink because I’m afraid. I dread the surgeries. They freak me out. Sometimes I’m afraid I might never wake up. I’m also afraid I will wake up and nothing would have changed, that I’d still be stuck in a life that’s going nowhere.” A bitter smile stretches his lips. “I drink to numb the pain and kill the fears. And when it doesn’t work, I drink some more.” His words are more slurred now, and he sounds on the verge of falling asleep.

If I feel this much pain, without going through what he is, how much more does he have to deal with every fucking day?

“You don’t have to give up hope.” There’s no way I’ll let him quit. “You never know when a treatment might work.” The truth is, with every treatment I’m afraid as well. Afraid it might fail and my guilt will live on.

He shakes his head. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough for all the side effects. I seriously don’t know how much longer I can take it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it anymore, Bryant.” His face softens. “Make up for everything by living the life you’ve got.” He shifts in his seat. “If it helps, I forgive you.”

“You have no idea how much that means to me.” I stand and move to his side, place a hand on his shoulder, wishing I could pull him into a hug instead. “I wish we could be the way we used to be. I miss our friendship.”

Lance squeezes my hand. “Maybe one day we’ll get it all back. You never know.”

“I’ll work at it, I promise. I’ll get us back to that place.”

“Good.” He pauses. “But now you have to figure things out with Grace. Who knows where she might have run off to? She could have left the house. She won’t be safe out there on her own.”

“Shit.” I straighten up. I’ve been so wrapped up in the emotions between me and Lance that I’d forgotten about Grace. “You’re right. I have to find her.” Now that Lance has forgiven me, everything looks different. I feel a kind of freedom I’ve never felt before, as though anything is possible now. If Grace finds it in her heart to look past my imperfections, maybe we could be something more than we intended.

“Then get the hell out of here. I’ll be fine.” Lance brushes my hand from his shoulder. “If she’s the one, treat her good. Do something right for once.”

“I won’t let you down.” Grinning, I pat him on the back and turn on my heel.