Chapter 265: My Wrecked Family

David’s POV

The shape on the porch steps resolved itself as I got closer.

Justin.

My younger stepbrother.

I hadn’t seen him since that night…the night I made Holly leave my house in tears, the night I said those awful things to her.

We had a huge fight that evening. One that ended in both of us raising our voices and the get together coming to an end. Then he’d stormed out too. That was weeks ago. Radio silence ever since.

But maybe…after seeing Holly today, he decided to put what happened behind him and visit me.

The sight of him sitting there, elbows on knees, staring at the concrete like it owed him answers, hit me harder than Ashley’s terror ever could.

We’d never been close. Not really. He came into my life when I was eighteen and he was eight…his mother married my father, and suddenly there was this quiet, watchful kid in my house who looked at me like I was a bomb with a faulty timer.

We tolerated each other. Barely. After the move to this city, after the new names, after everything the Jamesons buried for us, the distance between us had turned into a canyon. He blamed me for every inch of it.

I stopped a few feet away and cleared my throat. But, he didn’t look up…didn’t acknowledge my presence.

Maybe he’s really here to see me.

He does that sometimes…shows up without warning, like he’s afraid that if he announces himself, I’ll disappear.

There are days I come home from work and he’s already let himself in, the smell of food still warm in the air, his presence lingering even when he’s not in the room. Sometimes he’s shut away in his bedroom, door closed, existing just a few feet from me and somehow still unreachable.

The truth is, we barely spend time together. The only moments that feel remotely shared are during neighborhood get-togethers, when small talk and forced laughter create the illusion that we’re closer than we really are. Outside of that, we’re like two strangers orbiting the same space…familiar with each other’s routines, careful not to collide.

And I keep thinking about that day.

The day he moved out was the same day I sent Dad to the care home.

Two departures. One choice. One necessity.

And ever since, this house has felt like it’s holding its breath…waiting for something that never quite comes back.

I should say something…but what?

I cleared my throat again, and just let my head do the talking. “Why the hell didn’t you just let yourself in?” My voice came out rougher than I meant. “You know where the spare key is.”

That was too cold, David…thread carefully. He came…that’s all that matters.

Justin’s shoulders stiffened, like he had expected me to say exactly that. “I don’t plan on staying long. There’s no point going inside.”

I sighed, long and tired, the headache from earlier pulsing behind my eyes like a second heartbeat. “Why haven’t you been picking up my calls? Where’ve you been? You haven’t slept in your apartment in days. What have you gotten yourself into, Justin?”

His head snapped up then. Eyes narrow. Furious.

“You monitoring me now, David? Got people tailing me? Watching my every move? You think I’m still a kid?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what the fuck is it like?” He shot to his feet, fists already balled at his sides. “Tell me. Go on. Explain it to me like I’m still the stupid kid who used to believe you when you said everything would be okay.”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. I forced my hands to stay loose at my sides. “Justin—”

“No.” He cut me off with a slash of his hand. “Don’t say my name like it means anything to you. You lost that right when you decided your sick little game was worth more than the people who raised you.”

His eyes were red-rimmed, glittering in the dim porch light. Not just anger. Grief. The kind that never scabs over.

Justin laughed then, the bitter, jagged kind of laugh. “You know what I hate most about you? You’re the reason everything broke. You’re the reason our family is ashes. You killed her mother…my mother…out of pure fucking jealousy because your own mom was already in the ground. And when you got bored of pretending to be normal, you picked up your disgusting, twisted little hobby. The Manhattan Murders. The headlines. The blood. You confessed to her on her deathbed like it was some grand fucking reveal, and she had a heart attack right there. Dropped dead. And Dad? He lost his goddamn mind. Staring at walls, muttering about devils. That’s on you. What kind of son does that? What kind of brother?”

His voice cracked on the last word, but the rage kept coming, louder, faster.

“Are you happy now? You ruined everything. Everything. I’ve spent years swallowing your recklessness, covering for you, lying for you, pretending I don’t wake up every night remembering what you did. I hate you. I hate you for every second I’ve had to live in the shadow of your shit. I wish you’d just die. Then maybe I’d get my father back. Maybe I’d get my mother back. Instead I’m stuck with you. A monster wearing my brother’s face. You’re nothing but a murderer.”

Something snapped inside me hearing him call me a murderer.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

My fist cracked across his jaw…hard, clean, the sound of it sickening in the quiet night.

He staggered, then lunged. His punch caught me under the eye, splitting skin. We crashed into each other after that. No skill. No strategy. Just two grown men trying to beat the past out of each other. Fists to ribs, elbows to cheeks, grunts and curses and the wet smack of blood. We fought until our lungs burned and our arms felt like lead.

When we finally broke apart, panting, chests heaving, I saw the blood on his lip…bright red against pale skin, trickling down his chin.

Guilt slammed into me like a freight train. I shouldn’t have lost control. I shouldn’t have punched him.

I hated myself for losing it. For proving him right.

“You’re bleeding,” I said, voice hoarse. I reached out instinctively.

He slapped my hand away so hard it stung.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” His eyes were wet, furious, broken. “I hate you. For everything you took from me, I hate you. And I won’t stop until you drop dead.”

He spat the words like venom.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “Can I at least clean up your wound?”

He spat on my shoe instead. A thick, bloody glob that landed with a wet slap.

“You’re a monster,” he hissed. “I hope Holly sees that and stays the hell away from you.”

“Justin…wait—”

He didn’t look back. He just turned, stalked down the steps, got into his car without once looking back, and peeled out. Tires screeched and his taillights disappeared into the dark.

I collapsed onto the porch steps, back against the railing, head tipped back, breathing hard through the ache in my ribs.

It was all my fault.

Everything he said was right.

I’d failed. Failed my father. Failed his mother. Failed him. Failed every single person who’d ever tried to love me.

And now the last thing he’d said clawed at the inside of my skull.

Holly.

If Justin told her about the past…if he opened his mouth even once to tell her what she has no business knowing…it would ruin everything.

He’d sworn never to speak of it to another soul. That was one of the first promises we made as a family when I presented them with the new identities. One word from him and the trust I’d been so carefully building with her would collapse like wet cardboard.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I had to move faster.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I’d take the biggest step forward.