Unwritten Law (Steele Brothers 1)

“It’s not my fault you both look alike.”

Anders and I share a glance.

“Actually, Mum,” I say, “I think the whole identical twin thing is your fault. I could give you a quick lesson in anatomy if you’re still confused after all these years.”

She waves me off. “Come out back. The barbecue’s in full swing, and your father’s burning the steaks.”

Once Mum’s walking away, Anders takes a deep breath.

I squeeze his shoulder. “We got this.”

We don’t even get lunch plated up before Dad says, “You need money.”

“Can’t we just come home because we miss you guys?” Anders asks.

Mum and Dad look at each other and then back at him. As if rehearsed, they both say, “No.”

I try to hold in my laugh.

“Fine,” Anders says. “Just, don’t freak out, okay? I want to go back to therapy, and—”

“What happened?” our mother asks.

Yup, right on cue.

“Nothing happened,” Anders says. “But it’s been a while, and I’ve had a teeny, tiny, little bit of anxiety lately …”

Don’t scoff. Do not rat your brother out. Rule number one as a twin—always have your brother’s back, no matter what. Another rule: don’t hook up with someone while pretending to be your brother.

Yeah, oops.

“I want to get on top of it before it becomes worse,” Anders says.

Dad purses his lips. “You can take our emergency credit card.” He puts up less of a fight than I expected, but Mum isn’t so easy.

“Wouldn’t it be best to move home and away from the toxicity of the city?”

Predictable as ever.

“I’m fine,” Anders says. “I just need a few sessions to stay on top of things. And I’ll pay you back.”

“We know you will,” Dad says. “And if you think this is what you need, then you know we’ll help any way we can. Now eat up before your charcoal gets cold.”

The overcooked meat is gamey and chewy.

“Is this cow?” Anders asks, staring at his steak.

“Roo,” Mum says. “It’s leaner and healthier.”

“And grosser,” Anders mumbles.

Never understood our nation’s need to eat their own national emblem. Kangaroo meat tastes like ass.

“Law, are you seeing anyone?” Mum asks, and I almost choke on my food, but it’s not because of how inedible it is.

The image of a certain blond flashes through my mind for about the tenth time today, but I ctrl, alt, delete that bitch.

Anders laughs. “He’s more of a hermit than I am.”

Mum’s fork clatters to her plate. “Are … are you seeing someone?” she asks my brother.

Mum and Dad are unaware of Anders’ manwhorish ways for good reason. They both stare at him with half-hopeful, half-concerned expressions. They want him to move on, but at the same time, they’re terrified of him being hurt again.

Anders shrugs. “I’ve had a few dates. I’m trying to get back out there.”

“Maybe that’s why the anxiety’s come back,” Mum says quietly.

“It hasn’t come back,” I say. “It never left. It’s not like he was cured and then caught it again. It’ll always be there, and he’ll always have triggers. Counselling helps keep it under control.” I was going to bite my tongue, but this is why he asked me to come. I can run interference and stop Mum and Dad from ganging up on him.

Anders stares at me and gives a small nod in thanks.

“Have you thought about medication again?” Mum asks.

“I don’t like how I feel on them. They make me numb to everything.”

“Well, who are you dating? Is it serious? Maybe you’re not ready.” Our mum, the worrier.

“You want me to live as a monk forever?” Anders asks.

“Of course not,” Mum says. “But maybe you should take things slow.”

“It’s been five years,” Anders says.

Shit, has it really been that long?

Dad cuts in. “I think what your mother is trying to say is you don’t have to push yourself if you’re not ready.”

Anders’ hands wring together. “I want to be ready.”

Mum and Dad might have their doubts, but the fact Anders is saying that out loud? It’s a step I never thought I’d see him take. That has to be a good thing.

4

Lawson

With mid-semester break over and everyone back at school, the dojo is quiet during the day. I have early morning classes before school, and then I do my daily workout and plan lessons. Come three p.m., I have back-to-back classes until six.

It’s long hours, but I get to do something I love every day and get paid for it. I’m not rolling in money, but it pays my bills. Of course, if my brother ever decides to move out, I’m screwed and would need a new roommate, but I don’t see Anders being on his own any time soon.

My first class of the afternoon is a program I run with the local schools. Each day, a different school brings the kids from their LGBTQ union in for self-defence classes that the schools pay for, so the kids get free lessons.