Of course he felt responsible for what had happened. It had been his fault.
Nate was staring at him. He shook his head. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’
Aiden stared back at him. ‘You were too young to remember what it was like. If I hadn’t lost my rag and yelled back at Dad, he’d never have come after me. He’d never have knocked you down the stairs and broken your neck.’
The horror of that day as a sixteen-year-old whose life had changed for ever in a heartbeat had never gone. Crouched over the crumpled form of his ten-year-old brother at the bottom of the stairs, his hands had been shaking as he’d tried to hold his phone still enough to call for an ambulance. To stop Nathan moving, even as they’d both heard the dreadful sound of the gunshot that had come from an upstairs room.
Maybe the worst horror had been the relief of knowing that he didn’t have to protect Nathan from their father’s tyranny any more—the twisted bitterness that had come from blaming an innocent baby for his wife’s death.
He’d held Nathan’s head still, knowing that moving him could make it worse. And he’d talked to him as he’d crouched there, waiting for help to arrive.
‘I’m here,’ he’d said, over and over again. ‘I’ll look after you. I’ll always look after you.’
‘I remember a lot more than you give me credit for. And you know what? I’ve had enough of this.’
Nate sounded angry. His clever, brave, determined kid brother was letting his irrepressible good humour go for once. He was angry with him.
Finally. There was a relief to be found in that. He deserved the anger. He could handle it. He was the one who could still walk. The one who had a job he loved. Who could get out there and kiss gorgeous women. Nate was allowed to be angry about what had happened in his life. The opportunities he would never have.
‘It was Dad who pushed me down the stairs. Not you. It’s ancient history. Get over it, Aiden. I have.’
‘How can you say that?’ Aiden was shocked. ‘You have to live with that accident for the rest of your life. It should never have happened.’
‘Oh, get off the guilt train,’ Nate snapped. ‘Yeah … I have to live with it for the rest of my life. Me. And you don’t get to feel so guilty about it that you stuff up your own life. I’m not having that put on me, thanks.’
‘I’m not—’
‘Yeah, you are. You baby me. You’re always here, checking up on me. Trying to make life better for me, but guess what? I like my life. I don’t need this.’
Aiden stared at his brother. He’d thought he could handle the anger but that was when he’d thought it was going to be about the accident that had wrecked a young life—not about him honouring a vow to look after the only person who’d ever been so important to him.
This hurt, dammit. Enough to make him feel angry right back at Nate.
‘I’ve only ever done what I could to help. You were ten years old.’
‘And you’re still treating me like I’m ten years old. I’m twenty-four, man. I’m grown up. I’ve got a girlfriend.’
How on earth had this all come out after sharing the news that he’d gone on a date with the cute midwife?
‘And there’s no way I’m going to play by your stupid three-dates rule.’
So that was it.
‘You do know it’s stupid, don’t you?’
‘Works for me.’ Aiden’s voice was tight. At least, it had.
‘I’m going to live by myself one of these days,’ Nate continued fiercely. ‘I’m going to try out for the Murderball team and if I get in I’ll give it everything I’ve got. I’m going to make the best of my life. I don’t want to end up like you.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Shut off. Scared of losing control.’
‘People get hurt if you lose control.’ Surely Nate knew that better than anyone after what had happened.
‘So? That’s life.’ Nate shook his head. ‘Get over it and start having some fun. Like me.’ The crooked smile was a plea for understanding. Forgiveness, too, maybe, for saying some hard stuff?
The lump in his throat made it hard to suck in a breath. Okay, he was hurt but, man, his little brother had courage, didn’t he? He was so proud of him.
A window got pushed up along the veranda and a dark, spiky head emerged. ‘You coming in for dinner, Nate?’
‘Sure.’
‘You want to stay, Aiden? There’s plenty.’
‘Nah … I’m good.’ He needed some time to think about what had just happened. That his brother had grown up and just let him know in no uncertain terms? Or that he thought he had, anyway. He still needed his big brother, even if he didn’t think he did. More than ever, in fact, as he strived for independence. Did he think he could do that without a lot of help? Even if he wasn’t welcome, there was no way Aiden could back away from his responsibilities here. He might just have to be a bit cleverer in how he looked after Nate.
‘Hey …’ Nathan stopped the movement of his chair. He looked back at his brother. He looked a lot younger all of a sudden. Worried. Aiden could see him swallow hard. ‘We okay?’
If he’d needed any evidence that his brother still needed him, it was right there in how vulnerable Nate looked right now. Aiden didn’t hesitate. ‘Sure.’
But it was an awkward moment that could go either way.
Aiden did his best to smile. ‘You were right, man. She was off the scale.’
Nate’s grin tugged at his heart. ‘So she gets a second date, at least?’
‘Already sorted. We’re going to the beach.’
‘Maybe me and Sam can come, too.’
Aiden snorted. ‘No way. I only invited Sophia.’
MELBOURNE IS FAMED for the ability to produce four seasons in one day with its fickle weather. It was also capable of pulling something astonishing out of its meteorological hat—like a blazingly hot day in April when it could just as easily have been more like winter than summer.
How lucky was it that it was like this for date number two when they had agreed that the beach was a good place to go? Sophia stood on the pavement outside the picket fence of her cottage at the appointed time. She was wearing her bikini as underwear beneath her jeans and shirt and she carried a beach towel in her bag—just in case it was warm enough to swim. The thick jacket she had on over her shirt earned her a few curious looks from passers-by but she was just following the instructions that had come with the plan.
Had her choice regarding the mode of transport been a mistake?
‘The van’s old and clunky,’ Aiden had told her as he walked her home from the bar and they’d planned this date. ‘But it does have walls. If you’re brave, you can come on the back of my bike.’
‘You get to use your work bike at home?’
‘No. I’ve got one of my own. A Ducati. A red one.’
‘Red, huh? What colour is the van?’
‘White. Boring, boring white.’ He wanted her to choose the bike. She wanted to see the approval in his eyes when she made the right choice.
‘Then it’s no contest,