—Blake—

I parked outside Mom’s small house. It was the same one she and Brianna had moved into after Mom had saved enough to rent her own place. It had been intended as a temporary house, but Mom had ended up loving the little thing; she’d even bought it from the landlord a few years ago. She’d made it into a great little home.

Only now Brad was trying to fuck it all up. I knew my brother; he was just like our piece of shit father—worse, perhaps, in some ways. After all, Huy Casillas had a laundry list of faults but, to his credit, “convicted felon” wasn’t among them. Call me a pessimist, but I knew Brad. He was going to sit on his ass and mooch off of our mother until she had nothing left to give. I’d be damned if I was going to let him do it.

I got out of the car and went to the door. I knocked and, from inside, I heard, “Ma! Someone’s at the door!” I could hear the TV—I could see him sitting right there on the couch. He was just too lazy to get up. I gritted my teeth.

A few moments passed by before Mom, looking a little frazzled, opened the door. A smile immediately took over her face. “Blake, this is a surprise.”

I stepped inside and gave her a hug. “Yeah, I just thought I’d swing by.”

“Well, come in. Sit down! Can I get you anything?”

A weak smile curled my lips. She never stopped trying to take care of me. “No, Mom, I’m good. Actually, could we talk?” I gave Brad the side-eye. “In private?”

“What?” Brad piped up, pulling up from his slouch. “Something you can’t say in front of me, little bro?”

“Go back to watching TV. And don’t call me bro.”

“Blake,” Mom said reproachfully.

I shrugged, refusing to apologize. There was no love lost between me and Brad—he’d been an asshole to me from the day I was born and hadn’t gotten any better with age. I’d figured out a long time ago that I didn’t have room in my life for people like him. “So, can we talk?”

She sighed with a gentle shake of her head and gestured to her bedroom. “Sure, Blake, of course.”

I stepped inside with her and took a seat on the edge of the mattress. “Brad’s in typical form.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Come on, Mom. He’s bossing you around. I bet he’s not doing a damn thing around the house. He’s treating you like crap.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly in irritation. “Mind your language. Your brother is adjusting. It’s been hard for him since he…since he got out. He just needs help.”

I sighed softly. Different lyrics, same tune. Hell, Brad and Dad even rhymed. “Are you sure this is ‘helping’? Has he even tried to find a job?”

“That’s not so easy for him, now,” she hedged.

“So, no, then. Mom, you know he’s using you. He’s just like Dad—although at least Dad had a job. This is what Brad always does. He’s never going to change. At least, not if you keep going like this. Kick him out, Mom, and make him grow up.”

Her face twisted in anger. “Blake Casillas, you don’t tell me what to do. Bradley is your brother—my son—and he’s in a rough patch right now. He needs my help—I would do the same if it were you or your sisters.”

“Mom—“

“Don’t ‘mom’ me! This was my house, Blake, the last time I checked, and I’ll decide who stays in it and who doesn’t. And I think right now that you should go and think about things.”

I couldn’t fucking believe how deep in denial she was. I’d thought she’d gotten over that when she finally left Dad. “You know what? Fine.” I stood up. “He’s going to bleed you dry, Mom. Fucking dry.” I left the room and then the house, slamming both doors behind me.

Anger seethed under my skin. She’d kick me out—the son who actually gave a shit about her—but not the one who only cared about the spare bed and her bank account. Un-fucking-believable.

I was so wrapped up in my own head, I didn’t even notice that someone had joined me outside until Brad came into my sight.

“Still rude as shit, huh, little bro? Aren’t you ever gonna change?”

I turned a glare on him. “I don’t know. Are you ever going to stop being a useless waste of air?”

“Hey, fuck you!”

“No, fuck you.” I jabbed a finger at him. “You need to get off your ass and out of Mom’s house. Go stay with your fucking dealer or something—just leave Mom alone. She’s been through enough.”

Brad snorted, a derisive sound. “Whatever. She’s my mom. I’ll stay here as long as I want to and you can fuck off.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d say that.” I turned away from him, only for him to open his fat mouth again.

“Hey, bro, can I have fifty bucks?”

I walked into the house—my house, one in which Brad would never step foot—and all but collapsed onto the couch, emotional exhaustion so heavy it threw me right onto the cushions.

Oh, but I was fifty dollars lighter, wasn’t I? My knuckles had itched to connect to his face, but I’d given him the money—knowing it made me just as much an enabler as Mom was. If I hadn’t, though, he’d have just bummed it off of her. I could spare it easily; I doubted she could.

“It’s been a day,” I sighed to the empty room.

Just when I’d decided to give up on the rest of the afternoon and climb into bed, my phone rang.

Brianna’s distressed voice came over the line. “Blake? Dad’s in the hospital.”

Just shy of an hour later, I walked into Willow Creek Medical Center, wondering just why I’d let my sister convince me I so desperately needed to be there. I hadn’t said a single word to Huy since I moved out, for God’s sake.

Brianna waved at him from down the hall, grabbing my attention. “Over here.”

I walked over to her. “So, what exactly happened?” She’d been pretty much hysterical on the phone and hadn’t made a whole lot of sense.

She reached up and rubbed at her red, puffy eyes. “I went to see Dad today—you know I do every so often.” Unlike me, she still had a relationship, albeit strained, with the old man. “Everything was fine until he collapsed. I called an ambulance and they rushed him here. They haven’t told me anything yet.”

I started to ask her why she’d called me and not her husband, but, at this point, did it even matter? I was already there. Although, not for long, if I could help it.

“I’m sorry you were there for that, Bri.” It was the best I could come with, since I honestly couldn’t give a shit about our father’s health. “All his drinking is probably catching up with him.”

My little sister turned a glower on me. “You’re not helping.”

I sighed, feeling like a dick. I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I just pulled her into a hug.

She pulled back after a long minute and scrubbed a had over her face. “It just…it really scared me. He went so pale and then he just dropped.”

“I’m sorry, Bri.” And I really meant it. For her, at least.

She sniffled softly and then focused on something over my shoulder. “Oh, here comes the doctor. Maybe he finally has news. Doctor, this is my brother, Blake. Can you please tell us what’s going on? I’m going crazy.”

The doctor, a man in his sixties, made a soft sound between a sigh and a hmm. “I wish I had good news for you, Mrs. Hartman, Mr. Casillas. The preliminary tests indicate that your father has cirrhosis. It’s a condition that affects the liver. Unfortunately, it’s something we see in a lot of heavy drinkers.”

Since Brianna seemed to be barely holding it together, I asked, “When will you know for sure?”

“A few days, a week at most. Although the diagnosis isn’t certain yet, you should prepare yourselves. I believe your father’s case is advanced. It’s highly likely that he’ll need a liver transplant.”