“That right?” I fix my eyes on the interview with Stephen A speculating about the upcoming season.

“Yeah, and then I remember she told me you came to Banner’s session at that conference and seemed really into what she was saying. That you guys knew each other in college.”

“Wow, that Iris is really observant, huh?” I take a sip, still not looking at him.

“Look, if you need to talk to someone,” August says. “And I suspect you do, you know you can talk to me. I won’t judge you.”

“Oh, so if I tell you I’m fucking Banner Morales, you won’t think that’s bad?”

His jaw drops, and then he snaps his mouth shut in a hard line.

“Bruh, I didn’t think you’d taken it that far,” he says with a heavy sigh. “Jared, you can’t. You’ll be a social pariah.”

He leans over to peer into my face.

“And so would she,” he says in a low voice. “You know that, right? That if word got out, it would ruin her reputation. She’d be reviled.”

“Right. I know that,” I snap. “And you can rest easy. I’m not.”

“But have you?” he presses.

I look back at him and say slowly, deliberately, “Many times.”

“Dude.” He squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Start from the beginning.”

I walk him through my early friendship with Banner and the disaster with The Pride to reconnecting over the last few months and all the grinning and grinding in between.

“So you pursued her knowing she was in a relationship with Zo?” August asks, looking pained, which pisses me off.

“Yeah. You wouldn’t know anything about going after a woman when she’s with someone else, would you?” I ask, knowing damn well I’m being an asshole.

“Jared, stop.” August shakes his head, disappointment in the look he gives me. “You know it was different with Iris. Caleb was a sociopath.”

He really was. I rub my tired eyes and blow out a long breath.

“Yeah, that was fucked-up, Gus. I just . . .” I growl and tunnel my fingers into my hair. “You want me to be sorry I took her, and I’m not. You want me to be better, and I won’t be. I’m just going to be me. I’m not noble like you and Dad, or a saint like Zo, and frankly, I have no desire to be.”

August often felt like the odd one out in our small family. With my father and I being blond, and Susan with her red hair and blue eyes, August’s mixed-race gene pool made him look like he didn’t belong, but I was the outlier. The one who saw things through smut-colored glasses and didn’t want to save the world.

I wanted to run it.

“Dude, no one expects you to be like me or your dad or anyone else,” August says. “And you’re not as bad as you think you are.”

“Well, however bad I am, she sees it, and still wants me.”

I point an accusatory finger at the wide screen television mounted above the fireplace.

“And every time I see some story about her being Zo’s rock, or how they are made for each other, or how she’s standing by him through the hardest time of his life—”

“All of which is true,” August interjects.

I just stare at him for a second, infuriated. He’s my brother. He’s supposed to be on my side, but he’s too concerned about what he thinks is right. He’s always so damn good. I can’t stand it. I’m surrounded by paragons.

“It’s not all true,” I say after taking a semi-calming breath. “She doesn’t belong with him. She belongs with me.”

“The man is fighting for his life, Jared.”

“She belonged with me before he got sick. You have your right.” I pound my heart with my fist. “I have mine, and she is my right.”

“Do you mean you’re entitled to her or that she’s right for you?”

“Both,” I snap. “And I don’t care if you judge me for it.”

“You keep saying you don’t care, but I think you do.”

“Why? Because you would? We’re brothers, Gus, but we’re nothing alike, and that’s not because we don’t share blood. We are made differently, fundamentally. I’ve never been like you and Dad. Or like your mom. And you want me to change the way I am, the things I want, what I will do to get it, to satisfy your idea of what’s right, and I won’t do it.”

“Except you are doing it,” August counters softly. “For her, you’re doing it.”

I grit my teeth because that is true. If it were up to me, I’d be with Banner and damn everything else. It’s not fair that Zo imposes this on her, on us, so that she can help him live.

“It’s the most manipulative, unfair thing, what he’s doing,” I answer. “Yet he’s the saint.”

“More manipulative and more unfair than you leveraging the charity golf tournament to insinuate yourself with Banner, knowing she was in a committed relationship?”

“Yes, because I knew what she wanted, and that it wasn’t him.”

“She told you that?”

“She didn’t have to. If Banner loved Zo, I wouldn’t be able to sway her. She wanted to be with me. She always has, and I’ve always wanted her. I was not going to let the wrong man keep me from finally having her.”

“So you just take what you want?”

“Didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t, and you know it,” he says, a frown collapsing between brows. “I waited until Iris was ready, and I gave her time. Timing matters, Jared. If you force Banner into this, and she can’t do it the way that feels right to her, you could lose her forever.”

“That won’t happen.” I make a conscious effort to unclench my fists.

“Or she could come to you, but all the things you love about her—the good, the compassion, the sense of right and wrong—could all be deconstructed and set aside for you. And then is she even the woman you love anymore?”

“I didn’t say I loved her.”

His knowing look shuts me down.

“You didn’t have to,” he says. “And do you think Zo has trouble telling Banner he loves her? After all she’s doing for him?”

I stand from the recliner and shove my hands into my pockets so I don’t punch my brother. I walk around all the time wanting to punch something, to punch someone, but there’s nowhere to direct my anger. No one to blame, other than Zo, and I can’t make myself hate him. I resent this situation, which basically means I resent life—that it is uncaring, like a bird flying overhead and not even looking down to see where its shit landed. Shit happens to us all, indiscriminately.

I don’t mind heavy. Life is heavy sometimes.

She said that in the Caribbean when we talked about my mother. It’s not just talk with Banner. She means it. She’s the kind of woman you can count on during life’s most brutal storms. Not faint-hearted.

Lionhearted.

“Look, I know it sounds like I’m against you,” August says.

“Uh, yeah. It does.”

“I want you to be happy. I want you to have what you want, who you want.”

“That’s Banner.”

“But loving someone is the most selfless thing you can do,” August says quietly. “It’s not always about what you want from that person but what you want for them. What’s best for them. What makes them the best version of themselves. I’m not saying you’re not that for Banner. Hell, I hope you are. I was beginning to worry about you.”

“Shut up,” I say, relaxing enough to laugh.

“I’m just saying that’s a different lens to look at it through, and it changes your perspective.”

“You do know that I’m the older brother, and am by all rights, the one who should be doling out sage advice.”

“Age ain’t nothing but a number.”

“Please let Aaliyah rest in peace.”

“I will if you will.”

“That doesn’t make sense.

“Does it have to?”

“August, what?” I laugh because we’ve been having these pointless conversations most of my life and always when I need them.

“But does it?” He looks like he’s pondering life’s most important questions instead of some bullshit rabbit trail he’s using to take my mind off this mess I’m in with Banner and Zo.

Thankfully, before I can answer, because who knows where that would take us, Susan, Iris, and my father join us in the den. Iris walks over and tucks under August’s arm, looping her arms around his waist. My dad takes his usual seat in the recliner, and Susan sits on his knee. They hold hands and the same tiny diamond he gave her twenty years ago still captures the light and manages to be blinding if it hits you in the eye just right.

“Where’s Sarai?” August asks, dropping a kiss on Iris’ hair.

“Torturing some stranger with a billion questions.” Iris shrugs. “I was just too glad it wasn’t me for five minutes. I’m pretty sure it was one of your cousins, though.”

“You’re pretty sure? So our daughter may be gagged and kidnapped by now, is what you’re saying?”

“Definitely gagged,” I say, making everyone laugh. “If they take her, believe me they’ll bring her back.”

Iris reaches over and punches my arm.

“You know it’s true,” I tell her, chuckling.

“Only I can talk about her that way.” Iris mock glares at me. “Even if she did ask me to sing the ‘Star-Spangled Banner’ backward today. That’s normal, right?”

“I saw her,” Susan interjects. “It was one of your cousins and her little girl. What Sarai needs is a little brother or sister.”

“I’m ready,” Iris says, widening her eyes meaningfully at August. “Your son is the holdup.”