“We’re teammates, that’s it,” Pete said. But the words had teeth, bit in.
Sam frowned then. “Really? Because that’s not what Sierra said. She seems to think you and Jess—”
“Nope,” Pete said, looking away, and shoot, his eyes burned again. He should probably get out of here before he did something embarrassing. “Okay, well, I’m glad you’re okay.”
Two steps before the door—
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Sam’s words stopped him. “What?”
“I know it wasn’t your fault Dad fell, that we couldn’t find him.”
A beat. Pete frowned. “It was my idea to go off slope.”
“Dad would have done it even without your suggestion. That’s the thing. Dad was always the instigator. And you fell right in line.”
Pete shook his head. “But you didn’t go. You tried to stop us.”
“I was afraid!” Sam drew in a tremulous breath. “I was afraid, okay? And I hated that my fear kept me from going with you. We should have stayed together. We always should have stayed together.”
Pete had no words. He lifted a shoulder.
“I shouldn’t have turned on you, Pete. Shouldn’t have made you feel like you had to leave town.”
Pete ran his fingers against his eyes, turned away. Walked to the window.
Silence.
“Pete?”
He held up a hand. “Just a sec, bro,” he said, and hated the way his voice quavered. But he could hardly take a full breath.
“Maybe I have rubbed off on you, a little.”
Huh? “How’s that?”
“Sierra told me that I’ve let darkness consume me. And maybe she’s right. I’ve spent the last twelve years angry and bitter. Unable to forgive anyone, including myself. But I don’t want to be that man anymore. I won’t.” He took a long breath. “So, I’m sorry, Pete. And I can’t make you forgive me, but it’s important to me that you know I don’t blame you anymore. I want to be in your corner, not fighting you . . .”
Sam swallowed, his expression stripped, as if he’d opened up his chest for Pete to take a good look.
Pete stared at him. Since Dad died, everything between them had been grief and fury and darkness.
Then, with a warmth Pete didn’t know Sam possessed, he said, “You saved those kids, Pete. You’re a good guy. Dad would be proud of you.”
Pete emitted a sound, something harsh.
“What?” Sam said.
“Nothing. It’s just . . .” He shook his head. “I highly doubt that Dad would like the things I’ve done.”
He waited for Sam’s agreement, the barrage of accusations, a litany of his sins and irresponsibility.
Nope. “Dad might not approve of all your choices, Pete, but he still would have been proud of who you are. The damage you’ve done in your relationships doesn’t outweigh the person you are and what you do to save lives. That’s who you are, Pete. A hero.”
Oh.
Pete looked at his brother, then the floor. “So . . . We don’t have to hug now, right?”
“Please, no.”
Pete looked up. Sam was smiling.
Slowly, Pete matched his smile, his entire body filling with something he couldn’t quite name.
Hope, maybe.
“So, about that incident commander job . . .” Pete said.
“We’ll see.”
“Hero. You said the word. I heard it. Hero. I’m sure that comes with a raise, an office, a new truck.” Pete pulled up a chair, turned it around, straddled it.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Someday. Maybe you could start with remembering to pick up Mom from her appointments, okay?”
Pete made a face. “Sorry. I will.”
“Good.” Sam considered him, and a dark smile slid up his face. “So, ‘just teammates,’ huh?”
“What?”
“Really? That’s all you got? What?”
Pete sighed. “Okay, fine. I blew it with Jess, but I’m not sure you and I are ready to give each other dating advice.”
“If you want advice, you’ve come to the wrong brother.” Sam’s eyes turned shadowed. “I’m in big trouble.”
“Really? Something happen in the woods?”
Sam looked away.
“Oh, dude. What, with Willow?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Geez, at least I have the guts to admit it. Did you two hook up?”
“No, we didn’t. Or, not like you mean—”
“I didn’t mean . . . for Pete’s sake, it’s Willow. What happened?”
Sam shook his head. “Okay, yeah, we sort of . . . hooked up. In a non-Pete way.”
“Hey—”