“As in Mahoney, Perry, and Davenport. When Brody told me his father was a name partner at his firm, I assumed he worked for a firm with the name Wallace in it.”
“Brody has his mother’s last name. It was a nasty divorce,” Reed says.
“Oh, fuck. Brody’s dad was Kyle’s lawyer?” Law asks.
I cover my eyes with my arm as more tears come.
Law lands beside me, kneeling on the floor. “Did you see him?”
I nod.
“Do you need me to call Karen?”
Oh yeah, I need an appointment, but not right now. I don’t want to leave this space.
“Kyle,” Reed says. “As in your …”
“Yeah,” Law says. “As in the guy.”
I sit up, almost knocking my brother over, who’s still by my side. “You know the worst part? He didn’t even recognise me. He did the head tilt with the ‘Have we met?’ shit, but the man who helped ruin my life didn’t immediately recognise me. How fucked up is that?”
“How did he help other than represent Kyle?” Reed asks, and my brother and I stare at him as if he’s insane.
“Like representing the guy who tried to kill me wasn’t enough?” I retort.
Reed becomes flustered, trying to get words out. “I didn’t mean … but … and … I …”
Law stands. “Their defence was that Anders started the fight. They painted Anders to be the controlling one, intimidated him in depositions, and made it so hard on him he couldn’t testify at Kyle’s trial because the idea of it would send him into panic. That’s when the attacks started. Not right afterwards, but having to relive it over and over again for the lawyers. It meant Kyle got a reduced charge and sentence.”
“Oh,” Reed says.
I stay on the couch, my head down, eyes cast at their coffee table, because once again, I’m back in that place. I’m the guy who froze, the guy who couldn’t defend myself, and the guy who choked when it counted.
It’s easy to blame Brody’s dad for Kyle getting off light, but the truth is, I’m the one who let him get away with it, because I wasn’t strong enough to face him in a trial.
I’m weak.
I’ve always been weak.
I’m worthless.
These thoughts are dangerous, I know that, but they won’t stop taunting me, reminding me of who I really am.
I’m not the guy who gets to have sex with his roommate without consequences. I’m not deserving of the happily ever after my brother gets.
It’s not my life.
“On second thought, I do need Karen,” I say before I have the chance to believe the voices.
It’s taken me a long time to get to this point—where I know I need help—but the voices are trying to drag me down, and it won’t be long before they take over completely if I don’t do something about them.
I should be proud that I’m able to recognise the signs and that I’m strong enough to ask for the help I need, but the truth is all it does is remind me I need help in the first place.
Then the voices start all over again.
It’s a vicious cycle.
Law stands. “I’ll take you.”
It’s happening again. My soul’s splitting in half.
This will be the day I realised Brody and I could never work out.
I can’t be with him knowing I’d have to see his father.
I can’t be with him knowing he does to his clients’ victims what his dad did to me.
Kyle’s conviction broke me in more ways than the actual assault.
And nothing in my life is safe from the repercussions of that.
22
Brody
“Care to tell me why my roommate is having a panic attack?” I ask Dad.
“Should I know?”
He and my sister stare at me, probably wondering the same thing I am. What the fuck just happened?
I’d basically chased Anders to the elevator and only stopped because I saw the horror in his eyes as I tried to get on there with him. I’ve gone back to being the guy who scares him.
“He said you were Kyle’s lawyer. I’m assuming that’s the guy who attacked him.”
“Anders was attacked?” Rachel asks.
Dad’s brow scrunches. “He looked familiar, and the name rings a bell, but Kyle … It’s not coming to me.”
I move to where I dropped my bag on the way in and pull out my work laptop. So far I’ve respected Anders’ wishes to keep the details of his assault to himself, but I can’t not know anymore.
Taking it to the dining table, I open the lid and bring up the firm’s log-in portal for their network. “Look it up.”
“You know I can’t let you see what’s on there.”
“I don’t care right now. Look it up. I need to know.”
Maybe it’s the way I demand it, the crack in my voice, or my erratic behaviour by chasing Anders out the door, but Dad eyes me suspiciously.
“He’s not just your roommate, is he?”