I drop on to Jagger’s couch, a little worse for wear after setting up a marquee in the afternoon heat for Dakota’s birthday. He hands me a cold beer, before taking a seat on the opposite recliner.

“Those kids better stay under the marquee the whole time,” Jagger jokes. “It’s only fair after how hard it was to put that fucker up.”

“It’s not their fault they didn’t teach you how to use basic tools in prison.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he scoffs, while throwing the beer bottle cap directly at my head. “There was nothing basic about that thing.”

“It’s fine, I get it, we can’t be good at everything,” I tease. “Next time just bloody well pay for someone.”

“I just wanted to do something for her, myself, you know?” His tone steers the conversation back to all the ways he thinks he falls short.

“Yeah, bro, of course, I was just kidding.”

“I know you were,” he says dismissing my comment. “I just think this whole birthday thing means more to me than it does to her.”

I want to tell Jagger that Dakota has never gone a day without in her life, and having her father be there is the gift. All the other shit we give to kids is just extra bells and whistles to fulfil our own materialistic needs. However no matter which way I word that, the message I'm trying to get through to him is not the one he will receive.

It’s never my intention to throw in his face all the time I've had with her, and I’m cautious not to. Our lives have come so far beyond tit for tat on who sacrificed the most.

He missed watching his daughter grow up, and I raised a girl who would never be mine.  These thoughts are selfish, and destructive. Secrets, he and I promised to keep in the vault.

We’ve come so far from the volatile people we were to one another back then. I try not to remember the bad days, the fights, and all my regrets.

“Bro, can I come in?”

“Yeah.” Shoulders hunched over my desk I finish the mountain of homework that I get lost in every week. “What’s up?” I glance up at Jagger and I’m immediately thrown off by the way he looks. Jittery and nervous are not words I would ever use to describe my brother. “What’s wrong?”

He walks into the room, and sits on the edge of my bed. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okaaayyy.” I push off my desk, and and spin my chair to face him.

“I need you to know I’m really really sorry.” His voice trembles, his eyes begin to water, and I'm at a loss at what the fuck could be the problem.

Out of habit, I roll the desk chair toward him, offering comfort. “Jagger, man, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

He's shaking his head vehemently, working himself up by the second. “Tell me you’ll forgive me.”

I lean my hand on his shoulder, “Of course I’ll forgive you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, man. Spit it out.”

He closes his eyes and takes a big breath, before letting it out in one large whoosh. When he opens them, he stares directly at me. “Sasha is pregnant.”

For a second my mind just shuts down, unable to mentally process the three words he just dropped on me

“She’s pregnant.” I repeat, rolling the words on my lips, trying to shut the images down from my mind.  “I'm going to kill that piece of shit.” Loud. Angry. Hurt. There wasn't a spare corner in my room that didn't feel my wrath. I jump up out of my chair, and pull my hoodie over my head. “Are you coming or what?”

“Where?” he asks, looking perplexed.

“I'm going to find Jay, and beat the shit out him.”

“You know about Jay?”

“Yeah man,” I say impatiently. “I knew when she started hanging with him, and then her and I had a blow up about it not long after.”

“How long ago?”

I look up at my calendar. “About six weeks now.”

“Drix, sit back down,” he pleads.

“What the fuck man?”

“It’s mine,” he screams, window shatteringly loud.

“Come again?” My voice is so low, the contrast between him and I frightening.

“We were at Lachlan’s party. Remember I asked you to come?” he rambles, and I'm frozen in time. “But you were too busy turning into a fucking church monk.” The room begins to spin while he continues to spew out his confession. “She was so upset, and I was already so fucking trashed. I told her to try and talk to you about Jay. I did. That's what I thought she was upset about. That's what she said to me.”

“So, she came to you crying,” I seethe “And you fucked her?”

“Dr—”

I don't hear my name, I don't see his face, I can't hear him shouting. I race at him, elbow into his stomach, I ram him back into the bed. Gripping the collar of his shirt in one fist, I pull back my arm and let his face meet the other.

I don't stop. I can't stop. And he takes every single hit.

“Are you keeping it?” I spit out, through angry tears.

“Yes.” Instinctively he tries to duck, knowing my next move, but he fails.

Arms grip me from behind, my mother’s voice breaking through. “What the fuck is going on here?”

I finally let him go, and stumble backwards into my mother’s arms. I wipe my bloodied knuckles on my shirt. “Why don't you ask Jagger?”

“Well come on, let it out. I don't have all fucking day.”

As horrible as my mother was, you never kept her waiting. Unable to look at me or her, he confesses his biggest secret, while his blood drips on my floor. “I slept with Sasha.”

Mum uses the opportunity to bask in her favourite past time; screaming at Jagger.

“You're a fucking useless piece of shit, you are. You can’t keep your damn dick in your pants.” She doesn't skimp on the insults, and for the first time in history, I let her keep going. “I said don’t be like your father, but here we are, sticking it in any hole that fits.”

“This is between me and Drix.” He stares at me, while she yells at him. A messed up version of myself looks at me, begging me for forgiveness. And I’ve got nothing to give.

“You didn’t tell her the best part,” I taunt. “They’re having a baby. You’re going to be a grandmother.”

“He better be fucking lying, Jagger.”

He hangs his head in shame. “Drix, I'm so sorry,” he cries.

“Get out of my room,” I say calmly.

He steps up beside me, “I’m not going until you forgive me.”

“Get out of my fucking face before I kill you.”

He closes the rest of the distance between him and the door. “I’m going to make this better.”

One brother beaten, and the other broken. “Don’t bother, you and I can't be fixed.”

Pulling myself out of the painful memory, I take a long swig of my beer, grateful that’s in the past and more focused on reminding Jagger, the party will be everything him and Dakota need. It will fall into place, and she’ll hold the memory as close as the rest of the things she cares about.

“Where's Em? I thought she'd be here fussing over the decorations with you.”

“No,” he says averting his eyes, and picking at the beer label. “She’s with Taylah. Some emergency.”

“Oh.”

“I hate to point out the obvious, but shouldn’t you know that?” I take another drink, not really having any actual answers to what’s going on in my life right now.

I know I’ve hurt her, I know she’s confused, I just don’t know how to fix it. “I know what the emergency is.”

He looks at me pointedly. “Well?”

“I asked her to come tomorrow.” I stretch my arm out, place the empty beer bottle down. “And it brought up a whole bunch of shit that I didn’t even see coming.”

“Sasha?”  

“The one and only.” Leaning to the right, I angle my body till I’m lying down on Jagger’s couch. “I mean, seeing Sasha tomorrow was in the back of my mind, but spending a day here without Taylah seemed wrong.”

With my hands behind my head, I stare at the ceiling, and hope Jagger can help me sort out this mess.

“She told me she was falling in love with me, and I didn’t say anything back.” The look on her face when she said those words, tears through my chest. Every night since I’ve wished I could turn back time and re do the whole conversation. I should’ve said it back, because in my heart I feel it. It’s more than like, and it’s way past lust. I was just too wrapped up in the newness of it all to realise love is what comes next.

It would be a lie to say I wasn’t nervous about Sasha and Taylah being in the same room together. It would be a lie to say I don’t love Sasha anymore. Truth is, I don’t know. I chose to keep my distance and live my life. Does that make everything else go away?

“You know what?”  I get up off the couch, and walk our empty beer bottles to the kitchen. “I’m lying here on your furniture like I’m in a fucking therapist’s office when I just need to go to her place and talk to her.”

I’ve been pussyfooting around her and our issues all week, not wanting to make it worse, but if I don’t clean out the wound, it won’t heal.  Opening his front door, I look back at Jagger who is watching me with mild amusement.“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, bro.”

“Tell Emerson I’m waiting for her,” he calls out.

He means his dick is. Gross.

“Just fucking sext her like a normal person.”

Standing on her porch, I knock on the fly screen waiting for her to answer. I don’t think I’ve ever stood here this long, her hands usually dragging me in before my foot has even touched the first step.

Opening the door, she doesn’t look too shocked to see me.

Fucking Jagger.

A little fragile, and a little defeated, she stares at me with the same questions she’s had all week.

“Can I come in?”

Emerson’s head pops into view. “Of course you can,” she answers for Taylah. “I was just leaving.”

They say a quick goodbye, before the screen door opens, and Em gives me a quick peck on the cheek and heads off home.

I step in, and Taylah steps back. “What are you doing here?”

Hesitant and unsure, she wraps her body with her cardigan. Crossing her arms across her chest, she adds another barrier between us.

“I came to see you.”

Again, I move forward, and she moves back.  “Why do you keep doing that?”

“If you touch me, I can’t think. I won’t be able to remember why I’m mad, why I’m scared and why I’m confused.” Her shoulders are stiff, and her right leg bounces on the spot. She’s in knots and it’s all my fault. “If you touch me, I’ll crumble.”

“You haven’t let me touch you or see you in a week.” My body shrugs. “I miss you.”

The distance felt significant when we spoke on the phone during the week, but in person it feels irreparable.

“I know.” She nods. “I miss you too.”

Pushing my fingers through my hair, I pull at the tips. “Tell me what to do. I want to fix this.”

“You’re going to go home, and give me tonight.” Her voice is cool and calm, a complete one eighty from her body language. “Tomorrow, come and pick me up, and everything will be okay.”

“No,” I say strongly. “No. Things don’t get better if you ignore them. Everything you’ve been feeling won’t just magically disappear in the morning.” I school my breathing. Tapering the frustration coursing through me. “I came here to speak about it.”

“I don’t want to speak about it,” she argues.

“I’m going to speak,” I say, pointing at my chest. “I just need you to listen.”

She hugs herself tighter, and the fact that she won’t let me comfort her makes my skin unbearable to be in. “Last week when you told me you were falling in love with me, I should—”

“Don’t,” she shouts. “I am not mad because you didn’t say it back.”

Choosing my words carefully, I tell her my heart has every intention of falling with hers. “What I was going to say is if there’s anyone in the world made to put the pieces of my heart back together and cherish it, it’s you.” I swallow the lump in my throat and continue. “I’m sorry I didn’t clarify that you are important to me. I should’ve told you that you’re not a practice girlfriend. That you’re not a stand in. I should’ve told you you’re not replaceable. And above all else, you. Are. Mine.”

If I was unsure about how I felt, seeing her in flight or fight mode, kicked me into gear. I have a past. I have scars, but if I’m not careful, I’m going to lose my future.

“Tomorrow, it’s your turn to tell me about it, okay?” She acknowledges my request, but something has me still uneasy that she’s trying to say goodbye.  “Promise me I’ll see you tomorrow,” I demand.

Silence.

“Say it.”

A lone tear rolls down her face. “I promise.”