“Brooke Rossi, you are the biggest asshole in the entire world,” I told my reflection. She agreed. She stared miserably back at me while I waited for Mrs. Cannon across the street to come over and sit while the twins slept.

If my door slam of about two hours ago didn’t wake them, then nothing short of the apocalypse would. And since the door slam of about two hours ago, there was one thing I couldn’t stop thinking about; Michael’s face when I called him a liar.

I scrubbed my face with my hands and breathed out a ragged sigh. What a giant, monstrous bitch I was to him. Tears clogged my throat, but I swallowed them down.

His face earlier when I unleashed on him mixed with good memories of him. The night we kissed, when we slept together. When the twins opened his birthday present, the pure joy on his face when he saw Piper walk. The way he wanted to comfort me when he saw how upset I was.

One tear spilled out, and I furiously wiped it off my cheek.

“Not yet,” I whispered. “Hold that shit in, Rossi.”

I wanted to, but it gnawed through my bones like battery acid that I’d all but kicked him out with the belief that I thought nothing else of him than his ability to make my toes curl.

And it was so far from the truth.

Michael made me happy. Made me feel safe.

I groaned again, thinking of the words that had fallen from my mouth. Curse my Italian temper! Oh, that I could actually blame it on that. And I wished I could blame it on Kevin, but he was only the impetus for my little tantrum, for the loss of control that made my head spin when I saw them face off in the driveway.

There was a small knock on the door, and I hurried over to look through the peephole.

“Thank you so much for coming,” I gushed to Mrs. Cannon, even though she waved me off immediately.

“Hush, honey. That’s what neighbors are for. Besides, now I can sit and watch Scandal in peace on your TV.”

Impulsively, I gave her a hug, and she returned it.

“Well, I’m still grateful all the same. Normally I would have hassled my sister, but I’m pretty sure they had plans tonight.” I slipped my coat on and hooked my purse over my shoulder. “There hasn’t been a peep out of the twins since I put them down, so you should be able to watch your show uninterrupted.”

Her smile was warm, and it helped thaw some of the unease that had been clinging to me like heavy icicles since Michael left. Stormed out, actually.

Not that I could blame him. I deserved so much more than what he’d said to me.

“No worries, dear.” She hung her coat over the back of the couch and waved me out. “Any idea how late you’ll be?”

I gave a quick, worried glance to the clock hanging on the wall, the constantly moving hands taunting with me with how long it took me to decide that I needed to go to Michael, ask him to forgive me for taking out my frustrations on him unfairly.

The amount of time I turned my phone over in my useless hands, trying to decide if I should simply call him, were just that: useless.

More than anything, I needed to see his face, look into his eyes, and apologize to him. Thankfully I knew exactly where his house was because he and Tristan lived across the street from Cole and Julia, and she’d pointed it out to me once.

“A couple hours at most?” I chewed my bottom lip. That was best case scenario. We could both apologize and then kisses and clothes-free wordless amends could be made after that. “Is that okay?”

She smiled as she hung her coat in the closet. “Of course. I’ll see you soon.”

It took my car a few minutes to warm up, and I blew warm air into my gloveless hands while I waited. The cold felt so incongruous with all the emotions heating me up inside. Along dark roads punctuated by the bright spots of oncoming traffic, I practiced all the things I longed to say to him.

Over the duration of our surprising friendship, of course I’d had times where I wondered if it was more to him, if I refused to recognize that it was more to me given all the complications of my life. But I don’t think I realized how much more he might be to me when the immediate loss of him made me feel like he’d sucked my spirit out during his exit. Like the slamming of the door had cut off something vital.

The ensuing feeling left me without my limbs, my heart, my soul. That was probably the most surprising of all, how fundamental, how critical he’d become to me in such a short amount of time.

Nerves jangled through me as I turned onto their street, and just as I was about to pull along the curb, the sharp yellow cut of headlights flashed across my car as a different truck than Michael’s pulled into the driveway.

Through the window, I saw Tristan stare at me. His face wasn’t unfriendly, but he certainly didn’t smile either. Considering he was Michael’s brother, they were so different. Tristan was just as tall, but more muscular. His hair longer and his face sterner than his brother’s. Around Tristan’s mouth, I doubted I’d find the deep smile lines of his brother, the ones that told me exactly how much Michael smiled. And around Tristan’s eyes, I didn’t think there would be laugh lines.

How was it possible that in three hours, I missed Michael?

I did, though. I missed him because I was horribly, viscerally aware that my words were enough to drive him away forever. And that was unacceptable. Him not being in my life was horribly, viscerally unacceptable.

I wanted to run to the door, but it felt rude to ignore Tristan, so I walked up to the driver’s side window, which he rolled down.

“Hey, Tristan,” I said when I rested my hands on the door.

“Brooke.” His lips curved in the most subtle way possible. He looked away to the house for a second, then focused back on me. “I’m not sure if Michael is home.”

Oh. Okay.

Maybe if Michael’s truck hadn’t been parked right next to his, I would’ve believed him. I would’ve walked back to my car and called him. But it was kinda unavoidable.

So I gave Tristan a look, and when he sighed, I knew I was right.

When he didn’t say anything else, I thought about what I’d want to hear from someone who hurt Julia. What I’d want to know, if I was going to be swayed into letting that person into our home. Sibling manipulation, I could do. No, manipulation wasn’t the right word. I was simply letting Tristan know that I wasn’t an evil harpy, that I wasn’t out to make Michael feel worse.

Even more than that, I wanted to beg for Michael’s forgiveness, let him know that I wasn’t ignorant of the look in his dark brown eyes when I said such awful things. Michael was more to me. More than I’d let on, and all I wanted was a chance to get that across. A chance to step into his arms and make sure he understood exactly how much more we could be. If that’s what he wanted.

“Look,” I told Tristan, closing my eyes briefly and focusing on him when I opened them again, “I said some awful stuff to your brother earlier. It wasn’t okay that I did, but I’d had a pretty shitty day, and the twins’ dad didn’t show up when he was supposed to, which doesn’t excuse myself. Doesn’t excuse what I said to him.”

Tristan stared at the house again, then glanced back at me. “Why are you telling me?”

“Because I love my sister. And if someone hurts her, I need to know that she’ll be okay.” I held my hands out, in supplication, pleading with my unexpected gatekeeper. “Michael means a lot to me, and I didn’t get a chance to tell him that when I should have. I just want that chance now.”

“Okay,” he said after another grueling moment. “Let’s go.”

We started up the driveway, and for a brief, crystalline second, everything was good. Hope warmed me up, and I walked next to Michael’s brother, imagining the things I’d be able to say him, the ways I could show him that I missed him.

That’s when the front door opened.

The first thing I noticed about her was the bright red shoes, spiky and severe against the concrete front porch. They even hit the ground with a noticeable clack.

Tristan laid a hand on my back in the next heartbeat, and the woman smiled at us. It was a friendly smile, which didn’t register until much later.

“It’s all yours,” she said, her voice sugary and high, her lips bright and viciously red against her ivory skin. Then she glanced over her shoulder, the blonde of her hair sleek and silky against the red of her coat. “I think we’re done here.”

I wanted to throw up. I didn’t though. I simply stopped moving. Tristan stood with me, his hand warm and unwavering on my back. Everything I wanted to say to Michael was choking me, was flooding my system with letters and words that didn’t make sense.

Betrayal.

It wasn’t fair, but it was the first word that congealed, the first string of letters that made sense in my head. I felt the cold, sharp edge of betrayal in every clack of her heels while she walked down the driveway and got into a car that I hadn’t noticed parked across the street.

It was red like her lips, like her shoes. And I hated her. I wanted to rip her hair out, drive the spikes of her heels into her beautiful face.

The moment that the violence of my reaction finally registered is when Michael appeared in the doorway, his face frozen in shock at the sight of me.

“Brooke,” he said, eyes flicking between me and Tristan, then over my shoulder to the red car that was pulling down the street. He bounded from the doorway. “Wait, nothing happened. Nothing happened!”

I stumbled back, my hands in front of me like they’d protect me from him.

“Don’t touch me,” I yelled just as he got within arm’s reach. My face felt frozen, colder than the air around me. Tristan stepped in front of me immediately, bracing a hand on Michael’s chest, the sole thing keeping him from me. And in that moment, I was thankful. Michael’s face was horrified, ashamed, angry, and I couldn’t look at it anymore.

My stomach pitched in a violent circle, and I knew that I had to leave. Had to get away from all the riotous emotions bombarding me.

Michael was calling my name, but I ran. I ran to my car and jammed the key into the ignition, turning the engine over before I could talk myself out of it.

His words as he left my house hours earlier cycled through my head in a vicious loop. If this is what I get for caring, Brooke, you can be damn sure I’ll never do it again.

The entire drive home, I didn’t cry. Mrs. Cannon left, even though she was curious as to why I was home so soon. And while she walked across the street, I held it together. It wasn’t until I crawled into bed, my clothes still on and my heart aching, that I let myself weep into my pillow.