Badd Motherf*cker(49)

Despite being three inches shorter, thirty pounds lighter, and four years younger, Brock didn’t seem intimidated by my anger. He just clapped me on the back and kept walking along the docks, the water on our left, Ketchikan on our right.

“You were what, seventeen when Mom died? That messed all of us up in some way, but I think it fucked you up the most. You had to take her place in the bar, yeah, but Dad was so depressed for so long you had to be a surrogate parent to most of us.”

“I didn’t do shit,” I grumbled, a heavy, uncomfortable feeling rolling through me.

Brock shot an irritated look at me. “Maybe we have different memories of those years, then. I seem to remember you making lunches for us. Helping us with homework you barely understood yourself—don’t hit me! You know it’s true and no fault of your own.” He held up both hands to fend off my instinctively thrown fist. “You got us up in the morning. Made sure Bax had a ride home from football practice. Got me to flight lessons.”

I tried to find some way of responding, but I had nothing. I had done all that, but it hadn’t seemed like I’d had a choice. Dad slept late a lot after Mom died, and I’d just blamed it on having to close the bar every night, being up till three or four. Of course, I’d closed with him and still got up to go to school, and then after I graduated I made sure the rest of the boys did, too. It had to be done, and I was the oldest, which made it my job. Looking back, I saw that Mom’s death had decimated Dad worse than I think any of us really realized and, perhaps unfairly, put a lot of pressure on me. More than I probably understood.

I shrugged, and stuffed my hands in my hip pockets. “Did what had to be done. Didn’t mean shit.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, you macho fuckstick. It did mean something. You stepped up. None of us have ever forgotten that. We’re all living our dreams, at least partially because you stepped up when Dad couldn’t. And none of us hold that against Dad, but it sucked. For all of us, but it put a huge burden on you, especially.” He punched my shoulder, and it hurt a lot more than I’d expected it to. “So when I say you never got to grow up emotionally, I just mean that you were so preoccupied with taking care of us, you didn’t have a chance to let yourself sort through your own emotions. You’re out of touch. You didn’t get to mourn Mom, and you sure as hell haven’t mourned Dad. You’re all sorts of a mess inside, and then some girl comes along and challenges that status quo you’ve been hanging onto, and it fucks with your carefully insulated emotions, and you don’t know how to handle it.” He shrugged. “So you bail.”

I sighed, a deep gusting growl. “And then you assholes come along and tell me everything I’m doing wrong.”

“Only because we care.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. So much caring going on I’m feeling all mushy inside. Jesus.”

Brock raised his hands and shook them. “Oh no! Feelings! You’d better go punch a wall so you don’t turn into a girl.”

“Maybe I’ll punch your stupid face instead of a wall. Make you a little uglier. God knows you could use it, pretty boy.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous? Of you? For what?” I stopped walking and glared at him.

He was baiting me, of course, and I’d just fallen for it. “Oh, I don’t know…maybe that I can use three-syllable words and form complete sentences without cursing?”

I charged at him. “You fuckin’ twerp. Let’s see you complete sentences after I knock your fuckin’ teeth in!”

He caught my charge and somehow deflected it, redirecting my momentum aside so neatly I nearly toppled off the dock. Zane knew that Judo bullshit too and I’d roughhoused with him enough to learn to expect those dirty tricks and how to deal with them. Case in point? Pretend to be more off balance than I was, and then when he moved in to do some kind of fancy bullshit throw, slug him in the gut. Hard to redirect my chi or whatever the fuck if you can’t breathe.

He took it like a man, though, and came at me with a blazing right hook that took me completely by surprise, mainly due to its complete lack of sophistication, which wasn’t much like Brock, for the most part. It clocked me on the jaw, sent stars flashing behind my eyes, and left me dizzy.

Not dizzy enough that I didn’t return the favor in kind, though, and I was satisfied to note my right hook sent Brock to the ground. Of course, I was dumb enough to stay within reach of him while he was on the ground. His legs shot out, scissored around mine, and threw me to the ground so fast I didn’t know what hit me until my head was ringing and his legs were clamped around my throat. I rolled toward him, got my hands around his neck…and started squeezing. Now it was just a matter of who could go the longest without breathing before tapping out.