"Ry. Come in. Dex, thanks for keeping your word." I can't resist the dig, and at least he has the decency to hang his head.
The three of us form a loose circle in the small space, with their tight faces and tense postures clearly stating their expectations.
Looking from one to the other, I clear my throat as I prepare my mea culpa. "I'm sorry. I was days away from approaching both of you."
Ry growls, pulling at his hair, as his eyes stab me with irritation. "I don't give a fuck what you were going to do. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. I waited for you to call me, to explain, to make me understand why you willingly hurt my sister and gave us no rhyme or reason for your fucking disappearance."
"Van, what the fuck?" Dex asks.
Ry turns to Dex, still clearly agitated. "Dex, I appreciate you calling me, but give us time alone."
Dex's torn between staying, because he, too, has a right, or leaving. I get it; I owe him an explanation. He's my man. We went through two tours together and shit no man would ever speak of, and he joined my crew when I created Hart Corporation. I owe him a lot, but Ry is another kind of brother and I owe him another kind of explanation.
"Sure." He nods before turning to me. "Van, we're fucking talking tomorrow." Without waiting for a response, he leaves.
Now
Evan
"TWO AND A HALF fucking years, Van. I looked everywhere for you. I called in every favor trying to find you, but nothing. Then, not even twenty-four hours home from my honeymoon and I get a call that you're back. What the fuck?" Ry's voice is tight as he lets out a ragged breath and roughly scrubs a hand down his face.
"I'm trying real hard to give you a chance because the man I knew wouldn't do that. The man I knew wouldn't have left without a word, and he wouldn't have snuck back into the city without calling me. I don't see that guy here and I miss him. I want him back. This is it, man, you better start talking now."
His rage is palpable. I'm used to his anger, have seen it many times, but never, and I mean never has it been aimed at me.
Hanging my head, I inhale deeply. It's hard to face him, to see his anger, disappointment, and disgust at me. Next to Carys, Ry's the one I'm closest to. He's like a brother to me, and he's my best friend.
My stomach tightens with regret for all the shit I put them through. I'm fucking selfish. My actions, the way I've handled this-it's been all about me. I wanted to get to the bottom of it, but I also wanted to preserve their love and respect for me. I was so worried about losing them that my actions may have caused that very thing. I may have pushed them too far and lost my chance to make any of this right.
"I'm fucking sorry, Ry. I truly am. I have no excuse, nothing that's going to sit well with you. I owe you more. I had to do something, and at the time, my actions were best for everyone."
Before I can go on, he interjects, "What the fuck did you have to do? Did you even think about Ma? Did you think about what your disappearance would do to her? You're her son. Do you know how many times she asked if I'd heard anything? Or how many times she stayed after Mass or visited Father John to pray for your sorry ass? I won't even fucking talk about what you did to Carys."
Feeling under fire and unprepared, I deliberately don't answer his first question.
"Ry, I feared for your sister's safety, for Ma's and yours," I say, sharing my greatest fear and what drove my actions throughout all these years.
He tenses, his hard eyes boring into mine, as his silence encourages me to continue. "I did what I had to. You'd have tried to talk me out of it if I'd told you. I had to do it, and nothing was going to change my mind."
"Stop talking in fucking riddles and tell me," he says.
Picking up a bottle of JD, I pour two fingers, hand it to him, and pour one for me.
"Now, Van. Talk, or I promise you right here and now, as sure as Carys is my sister, I'll walk out that door and never fucking look back."
"Ry." It comes out harsher than I intend with feeling cornered and anxious at the prospect of losing him all over again, although that possibility may be inevitable once I tell him everything.
"Talk." He's unmoved by my hesitancy. He wants answers.
"I left because Shadow went missing," I start. He nods-he already knows this-and I continue to buy time. "I'd sent him on a mission without giving him all the details. I heard something while on another job and I needed someone to check it out. It had to be on the down low."
Shadow was my best man for that-his name said it all. In our squadron, he was the best at recon, and that was saying a lot because all of us were highly skilled in reconnaissance, among other things. He could sneak up on the enemy without them knowing. He blended with the shadows, and you never knew he was there.