his entire trust fund when he turned eighteen and invested it in some damn penny stock. Collin called to let him know that his stock was doing well and asked what he should do, but of course, your brother didn't bother to answer his phone—”
“Wait, Dad. I'm not getting why he's in trouble.” If Collin was handling the money, then that meant that Gabe went to the best in the city to handle his business. Dad had always warned us about protecting our assets, and for once, it looked like Gabe listened.
“Look, Seth, I don't expect you to understand, but he invested his whole damn savings. All of it. There were several million dollars in there by now, and he basically used it to help some small-time company to get off the ground.”
This was definitely news to me. Gabe didn't have a mind for math, but he wasn't stupid.
“Dad. I'm sure he had his reasons.”
A frustrated sigh blew through my ear. “I don't even know why I try with you boys. Just tell your brother to get his ass home.”
I don't really know why he tries either. If it’s called trying. Since our mother left us twelve years ago, my dad had done his best at separating family from everything else. And by that, I mean, he took care of everything else. Gabe and I spent our time with sitters, nannies, and tutors. It was a lonely life for two boys who lost everything when the one thing we had always been able to count on was gone. Family.
“Dad, I'll tell him, but that doesn't mean he's going to come home.”
“Fine. Do what you can. I'll expect to see you Sunday.”
Every Sunday we get together for the pretense of a family meal. It’s a sterile affair with my Dad popping in and out of his cell phone, and the housekeeper clucking her tongue over the food that would get cold on our plates until our father decided we'd been tortured enough. Even so, we went. Every. Single. Sunday.
“I'll talk to him, Dad.”
“See that you do. I swear. I don't know where I went wrong with you boys.” I'm pretty sure it was when Mom left. “You know he gets this wild shit from you.”
I let his anger flow over me. Yeah, I'd take it. He'd been blaming me for everything for years. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it is my fault. I'd take partial blame. But not all of it. No, he'd have to carry his fair share. I'd done my best for Gabe, but there was only so much a big bro was responsible for.
“Dad, the guys are here. I'm going to let you go.”
“Talk to him, Seth. I don't want to see him fuck up the way you are.” “Bye, Dad.”
Even as twisted up as he'd make me, I can't bring myself to disrespect him. The rules and manners my mom had ingrained in me from birth on are the only things I had left of her. I'll be damned if I'll fuck those off.
The phone bounces on the bed, and I lean against the headboard. The door into my room opens. Deacon stalls at the side of the bed, that nerdy grin plastered across his face. “What's eating you?”
I kick him in the thigh with my boot, and he swats my leg. “I don't know. I'm not sure I'm making the right decision.”
“About what?”
“Everything. What if my dad's right, and I'm just fucking up my life?”
Deacon’s brows arch up, and he scrunches up his face. “With the music?”
“Yeah.”
Without warning, he leans over and pinches my nipple. I double over and rub at the sting. Fucking asshole.
“You done feeling sorry for yourself.”
“The fuck was that for?”
“You have a gift, Seth. Something people only dream about. Man you can create a melody out of air, and your words come straight from the heart. I've never heard anything like what you do.”
I know that he’s right, but years of my father’s doubt fill my head. “Yeah, but what if it isn't good enough.”
“If you believe like that, it won't be.”
I glance at my phone and dig my fingers against the ache in my temple. My father always seems to know which buttons to push. “You're right.”
“I know I am.” Deacon claps his hands. “Now, can we please get our shit
“Wait, Dad. I'm not getting why he's in trouble.” If Collin was handling the money, then that meant that Gabe went to the best in the city to handle his business. Dad had always warned us about protecting our assets, and for once, it looked like Gabe listened.
“Look, Seth, I don't expect you to understand, but he invested his whole damn savings. All of it. There were several million dollars in there by now, and he basically used it to help some small-time company to get off the ground.”
This was definitely news to me. Gabe didn't have a mind for math, but he wasn't stupid.
“Dad. I'm sure he had his reasons.”
A frustrated sigh blew through my ear. “I don't even know why I try with you boys. Just tell your brother to get his ass home.”
I don't really know why he tries either. If it’s called trying. Since our mother left us twelve years ago, my dad had done his best at separating family from everything else. And by that, I mean, he took care of everything else. Gabe and I spent our time with sitters, nannies, and tutors. It was a lonely life for two boys who lost everything when the one thing we had always been able to count on was gone. Family.
“Dad, I'll tell him, but that doesn't mean he's going to come home.”
“Fine. Do what you can. I'll expect to see you Sunday.”
Every Sunday we get together for the pretense of a family meal. It’s a sterile affair with my Dad popping in and out of his cell phone, and the housekeeper clucking her tongue over the food that would get cold on our plates until our father decided we'd been tortured enough. Even so, we went. Every. Single. Sunday.
“I'll talk to him, Dad.”
“See that you do. I swear. I don't know where I went wrong with you boys.” I'm pretty sure it was when Mom left. “You know he gets this wild shit from you.”
I let his anger flow over me. Yeah, I'd take it. He'd been blaming me for everything for years. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it is my fault. I'd take partial blame. But not all of it. No, he'd have to carry his fair share. I'd done my best for Gabe, but there was only so much a big bro was responsible for.
“Dad, the guys are here. I'm going to let you go.”
“Talk to him, Seth. I don't want to see him fuck up the way you are.” “Bye, Dad.”
Even as twisted up as he'd make me, I can't bring myself to disrespect him. The rules and manners my mom had ingrained in me from birth on are the only things I had left of her. I'll be damned if I'll fuck those off.
The phone bounces on the bed, and I lean against the headboard. The door into my room opens. Deacon stalls at the side of the bed, that nerdy grin plastered across his face. “What's eating you?”
I kick him in the thigh with my boot, and he swats my leg. “I don't know. I'm not sure I'm making the right decision.”
“About what?”
“Everything. What if my dad's right, and I'm just fucking up my life?”
Deacon’s brows arch up, and he scrunches up his face. “With the music?”
“Yeah.”
Without warning, he leans over and pinches my nipple. I double over and rub at the sting. Fucking asshole.
“You done feeling sorry for yourself.”
“The fuck was that for?”
“You have a gift, Seth. Something people only dream about. Man you can create a melody out of air, and your words come straight from the heart. I've never heard anything like what you do.”
I know that he’s right, but years of my father’s doubt fill my head. “Yeah, but what if it isn't good enough.”
“If you believe like that, it won't be.”
I glance at my phone and dig my fingers against the ache in my temple. My father always seems to know which buttons to push. “You're right.”
“I know I am.” Deacon claps his hands. “Now, can we please get our shit
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