The Foxhole Court

David

        This was not at all how this conversation needed to happen.

        In a perfect world it wouldn’t even be necessary; in this one, he and Abby should have at least been able to sit Neil down and walk him through it one piece at a time. Having to lay out the Moriyamas’ hideous secrets and the truth of Kevin’s injuries in the hall our front of David’s apartment was about as far from fair as this could get, but between Tetsuji’s cruelty and Neil’s bad timing David was out of better options.

        The only good thing to come out of it—if good could be at all assigned to this—was seeing how Neil reacted when he was blindsided. None of Neil’s protests or denials were over the Moriyama businesses. Past a slow and too-careful they’re a gang, Neil had nothing else to say about them; the only thing he seemingly cared about was the impact Edgar Allan’s transfer would have on the Foxes’ season.

        That was important, David knew, and more than a little worrying. Coach Hernandez had warned him Neil was distressingly single-minded about Exy, but surely the fucking yakuza of all things should have made a dent. He didn’t have time to really get into it now, not when Kevin was trying to down himself on David’s couch, but he tucked it aside to examine later.

        “I won’t say anything,” Neil promised. He didn’t have to be told to beat it; he was already half-turned away from Wymack to head back down the hall. Not to the elevators, David knew, because David had only seen him take the lift twice since moving in. David envied his youth, that he could just take seven flights of stairs on a regular basis like it was nothing. His hip was years healed but just thinking about that many steps had it aching. “And don’t worry about me. I’ll go for a run or something.”

        “Kevin should be out of here by four,” David said. “That’s when Andrew’s done with Betsy, so Nicky will pick him up on his way over to her office.”

        Neil nodded and was gone a heartbeat later. David lingered long enough to watch the stairwell door swing closed behind him, then shoved the puzzling kid as far from mind as he could. Neil was a problem he had time to solve; Kevin was an immediate crisis that couldn’t wait. He let himself back into the apartment and didn’t bother to lock the door behind him. It was a short walk down to the living room, and he eased onto the open couch cushion at Kevin’s side.

        He eyed the bottle of vodka, trying to gauge how much had gone missing in the last few minutes, and was wearied by what he came back with.

        “Kevin, I think it’s time to start seeing Betsy again.”
        “No,” Kevin said immediately, and pulled the vodka closer to his end of the coffee table. He didn’t actually need it right now, as his mug was still half-full, but he knew to get it out of David’s reach before it was confiscated. It took both of Kevin’s hands to get the mug to his face, and David watched as he drained it without coming up for air. It was enough to make his throat burn. David would forever prefer whiskey; how Kevin could knock this rancid shit back like water he’d never understand.

        “Kevin.”

        “I spent all of spring on her couch,” Keivn said as he set the mug down too hard. “This is better. Easier? Better.”

        “I’ve seen the bottom of a lot of bottles,” David said. “It’s not a real fix, just a temporary crutch, trust me. Give Betsy another chance.”

        “I don’t trust her.” Kevin tried refilling his mug, but he’d drunl enough by now to be clumsy with it. Half of what he poured ended up on the coffee table, and Kevin swore in a quick handful of languages. He set the bottle down, looked around for something to clean his mess with, and ended up patting at the puddle with his hand. “She’s Andrew’s. Did you know they text each other?”

        It was the first David had heard of it. He was heartened by that hint of progress, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted by it. He filed it next to Neil as something to delve into later and reached for the box of tissues. Kevin stared at it in blank-faced confusion for a minute before wiping his hand on his jeans and pulling wads free. It was pretty ineffectual against how much he’d spilled, and Kevin gave up halfway through in favor of chugging.

        “She’d his doctor,” David said. “How she chooses to treat him is not my business.”

        “All the time,” Kevin said, with emphasis. “What does she tell him?”

        It took David a moment to follow Kevin’s train of thought. “I’ve known her for a very long time. She’s a professional through and through. It doesn’t matter what her opinion of Andrew is; she would enver give away your secrets without your explicit consent.”

        “You don’t know that.”

        “I do,” David said.

        “You don’t,” Kevin said stubbornly.

        “You’ve already told us what happened to your hand,” David reminded him. “You’ve told us who the Moriyamas are, both branches of them. What could you be holding on to still that would drive you this far away from her?”

        “No. Don’t ask me that.” Kevin waited a beat as if expecting pushback, then reached for the bottle. David had to lean forward to put a heavy hand on it, and he held it down even as Kevin tugged. Kevin scowled fierce displeasure at him, but the slur in his voice undermined his frustration. “You have to let me have this. Your rules. Andrew said so. I’m one of your Foxes now.”

        He was right, but David was still annoyed with Andrew for ratting him out. David had sworn years ago not to interfere with his kids’ fixes so long as they didn’t get caught or end up hospitalized. It had led to more fights than he could count between him and Abby in the early days. She’d given in eventually, though she’d probably never forgive him for taking such a stance when he should be setting a better example. Maybe she was right, or maybe she didn’t have enough nightmares to understand.

        David rubbed a thumb along his knuckles, looking for blood he’d washed off years ago, and forcibly focused on Kevin. The memory of Kayleigh’s amused voice in his ear was so vivid he could almost feel the weight of his phone in his hand: “Did you think you were my only lover? He isn’t yours, David. You have nothing you need to worry about.”

Years later he still didn’t know if relief or disappointment had put the hotter fire in him. His “Congratulations” hadn’t been entirely sincere, but with so many miles between them she hadn’t seemed to notice the stiffness in his voice. There’d been only fond warmth in hers as she wished him and his career well.

He’d never called her again. Once there was another man’s child in the mix it didn’t feel appropriate to chase her so desperately. Nine years later she was dead, and her too-young child was absorbed into Edgar Allan’s strange team to be raised as a publicity stunt. Now Kevin was a devastated wreck on David’s couch. David had to be neutral and unyielding, but Kevin would always be different.

        “You’re not just a Fox,” David said, before he could think to stop himself. “You’re Kayleigh’s son.”

        Kevin’s expression fractured as he recoiled. David stared at the bottle he was holding onto even as Kevin retreated into himself on the next cushion. The silence that fell between them was wretched and deep, and David worked his jaw as he tried to find a way back from this dangerous territory. The second hand of his watch ticking away each second seemed to grow deafening the longer they sat frozen, and David used it to count his breaths.

        Jesus, Kevin looked so much like her, except Kayleigh had never looked so defeated and afraid. She’d been fierce and vibrant and fearless. She’d been good enough to warn him up front that she wasn’t looking for anything serious. Just a bit of fun after lessons, she’d suggested. Something to work off the adrenaline of learning a new sport and of slamming each other into court walls. They spent their evenings formulating drills for the teams they hoped to have one day and their nights tangled together in bed. He’d promised to keep it casual, but it hadn’t stopped him from falling for her. When he started thinking about rings he put himself on a plane home.

        Should have, could have, what-if.

        “A compromise,” David said at last. “I won’t interfere with your drinking from here on out. I’ll even buy you the bottles when you ask for them. But every time you use one as a crutch, you have to schedule an appointment with Betsy to tackle the actual issue. Deal?”

        He waited for Kevin to reject it with the obvious counter-argument: Andrew would happily get Kevin whatever alcohol he wanted with no strings attached or questions asked. There was no reason Kevin had to agree to David’s terms and no real way David could enforce it when they were apart far more than they were together. Maybe David could lean a little harder on Andrew to scale it back some but—

        “Fine,” Kevin said, sounding far too aggrieved. He stabbed a wobbly finger at his empty mug, and David poured him another drink. “But if she betrays me—”

        She won’t, David wanted to say, but he had the feeling it would just prolong the argument. “If she does, the deal’s off, and I’ll reassign her away from our team. Coach’s honor.”

        “Coaches have no honour,” Kevin said, ragged with renewed heartbreak and despair. He leaned forward, presumably to get his drink, but he had to steady himself against the coffee table with both hands when he tipped too far. David put a hand out to catch him if he started to fall btu was careful not to touch him yet. He was glad for the restraint, because he couldn’t stop all of a flinch when Kevin said, “Your word is enough. Just yours.”

        There was no good way to answer that. Hopefully Kevin was too far gone to hear the rough edge in his voice when Wymack finally said, “One more for the road, then.”

        “One more,” Kevin agreed, but he stared down at his drink until Nicky called to say he was downstairs. He knocked it back as soon as he hung up on Nicky and let David haul him to his feet. They took the elevator down together, with Kevin holding onto the handrail for dear life, and David somehow got him out to Andrew’s car without letting him fall. Nicky’s eyebrows were somewhere in his hairline as Kevin half-fell into the passenger seat, and he leaned forward to peer out the open door at David.

        “Party I wasn’t invited to, Coach?” he asked.

        “Board’s fussing at us about public appearances,” David said. Kevin watched him with the too-intent focus of the truly sloshed, focusing on David’s excuses so he could shore himself up against Andrew’s curiosity later. “They want us to start talking about Janie and Neil and what we can expect from a righthanded Kevin this fall.”

        “Oh, easy enough,” Nicky said, and rapped Kevin’s hip until Kevin finally tugged his seatbelt into place. “Just smile and nod at them, and they’ll be too busy drooling over you to care what you’re actually asying. Works on me every time.”

        Nicky wasn’t the only one so easily swayed, but if Nicky and Kevin were both too blind to figure that out David wasn’t going to put it together for them. Idly he thought he should ask Charles Whittier for a raise the next time they had a one-on-one, but he could already imagine the pained look he’d get in response.

        He pushed the car door closed when he was sure Kevin’d long limbs were out of the way and stepped back to avoid having his toes run over. Nicky pulled out of there like he wanted to take the asphalt with him—trying to get a rise from David, most likely, but he’d knock it off the second Kevin’s stomach rebelled.

        David wasn’t a praying man, and he’d never quite decided whether he believed in an afterlife, but for a second he glanced up at the sky in search of Kayleigh’s disapproving glower.

        “I’m sorry,” he said, and he went back inside to find a drink of his own.

The Raven King

Betsy

Betsy stood alone in the kitchen, gazing down at the pot of milk without really seeing it. She’d turned the burner down as low as it could go when she first heard a car outside, worried it would scald the moment she turned her back on it, but it was likely done by now. She ought to check it, but her hands rested limp on the empty towel bar. It wasn’t until she heard the front door that she was able to move, and she pressed the back of one knuckle to the surface to test the temperature.

        When Andrew appeared in the kitchen doorway a few moments later, Betsy greeted him with an easy smile. He’d stopped to consider her, but he was still fully in the hallway like he wasn’t sure he wanted to cross the threshold into her care. Betsy studied his face as she ran the math once more, trying to guess how coles he was to coming off his last dose based on the time of day.

        “The milk is ready,” she said, and lifted the cocoa canister in invitation.

        Andrew made no move to join her, but Betsy was optimistic enough to take two mugs down from the cabinet. She set a spoon in each before turning off the burner and peeling the lid off her cocoa. She made sure not to look at Andrew while she worked, leaving it to him to stay or go as he pleased, and set to work dropping heaping scoops of power in both mugs. She was snapping the lid back into place when Andrew finally made up his mind and started toward her. Maybe it was less for the chocolate and more due to David’s arrival; Betsy glanced Andrew’s way in time to see David move past the doorway.

        “Coffee for Coach!” Andrew said, too loud, and David’s footsteps faltered. Andrew checked his mug to ensure she hadn’t scrimped on the powder before opening the cabinet that held just a stack of brown filters and a jar of ground coffee. Andrew didn’t bother to get them down, more interested in stirring his cocoa into a chunky mess. When David propped his shoulder against the kitchen doorframe a moment later, Andrew pointed at him and turned a scandalized look on Betsy. “Working theory: Coach is allergic ot sugar!”

        “How ghastly,” Betsy said.

        David glanced toward Betsy in silent question. The chances of getting honest answers out of Andrew with David in the room were slim but not impossible. Maybe Andrew just wanted him here as insurance against her prying, but Betsy wouldn’t pass up anything or anyone that made Andrew feel safe after what had just happened. At her nod, David joined them to fiddle with the coffee maker. There wasn’t really space for three of them at the narrow counter, so Betsy carried her mug to the table with Andrew trailing after her. She half-expected him to sit as far from her as he could, but he took the chair at her side and spun his mug in lazy circles on the table.

        David poked a filter into place before finally addressing Andrew’s accusation: “When you get to be my age, you’ll have a bit mor respect for your diet whether you want to or not.”

        Andrew laughed and gave an exaggerated shrug, only to wince and reach for his bandaged temple. “Ouch,” he complained cheerily, a second before digging his fingers hard into the gauze and tape. Betsy tapped the table in front of him in warning. He sighed like her request for restraint was unbearable but held onto the chair between his knees instead.

        The look he sent her was conspiratorial. “Have you noticed, Bee? Coach is an idealist to the core. How boring, how tiresome, to look so far ahead.”

        “Defeat’s a heavier mantle than hope,” David said, “but you’re stuck with us at least another ten or twelve years at least if you’re going to see Aaron through medical school.”

        “Big ‘if’ on him getting, Coach! What GPA can balance out a murder charge?”

        “There is still a chance it will get dismissed,” Betsy said, but Andrew only laughed. Betsy kept her tone gentle like it would somehow make her next question less terrible: “Did you let them run a kit, Andrew?”

        “No choice, Bee,” Andrew said, with a put-upon sigh. Betsy was less interested in his aggrieved front than she was in what his hands were doing: Andrew was dragging a thumb up and down his left forearm in short, agitated jerks. The force behind it would have torn skin if his sleeves weren’t there to take the brunt of it.

        Betsy rapped the table again, and Andrew obediently reached for his mug with both hands. He downed half of his drink before he explained. “You might not have noticed, but he and I look a lot alike! They’ll look at him and see me, and we both know how little they think of me. Have to stack the deck in his favor somehow.”

        They would have to talk about Aaron later, but for now Betsy kept her calm stare on Andrew’s face. “It was a brave choice,” she said softly. “I know how intrusive a procedure it can be, especially on the heels of such violence.”

        And there it was at last: a subtle chink in the armor his withdrawal was tearing away from him. In a year and a half of treating Andrew, she’d never seen him so still. He stared down at his cocoa with a blank look on his face, jaw working on words he wouldn’t say. If she was kinder, she would leave it at that, but Andrew would react worse to being coddled than he would to what she needed to say.

        “I don’t imagine you allowed it last time.”

        It wasn’t quite a question, and not quite an accusation. The look David leveled her across the room was every inch a heavy warning, but Betsy didn’t return it. How Andrew reacted—how much he would admit to, how much he would trust her in the wake of such trauma—was too important.

        “Oh, Bee,” Andrew said, with a laugh she didn’t at all believe. “You assume they were stupid enough to get caught.”

        They didn’t include Drake Spear, of that she was sure. But this was not the time or place to delve into the details that was a discussion for closed doors and comfortable couches, not this bare kitchen with David an uncomfortable third wheel. It was enough for now to know Andrew wouldn’t completely shy away from her.

        “I could hope,” Betsy said at last, “but I spent enough time adjacent to the justice system to know how often it doesn’t work out.” The coffee maker beeped at long last. David poured a mug and brought it over to sit across from them. Andrew immediately got up and went to check the stove. Betsy had only heated enough milk for their first set of mugs, but Andrew refilled the pot and turned the burner on once more. Betsy half-expected him to stay there until it was done, but he brought the cocoa mix back to the table with him.

        For a few minutes they sat in silence, each tending miserable thoughts while they worked on their drinks. Andrew finished first, of course, and filled half his mug with powder as he said, “You lost Neil, Coach.”

        David looked weary. “Took off running full speed.”

        “What a surprise, said no one ever! Goodbye, good riddance.”
        “You don’t meant that.”

        “Maybe I do.”

        “Are you and Neil not getting along?” Betsy asked. David sent her a look of pained incredulity, but Betsy could only shrug at him. Andrew hadn’t talked about Neil in months, but she’d assumed they’d resolved their differences on their own. One week Neil had been the subject of some very grandiose conspiracy theories, and the next Andrew had only said “He’s Kevin’s problem nowm the end!” and refused to elaborate. Betsy hadn’t pressed, as there was always something else to talk about during their weekly sessions.

        “Bane of my existence,” Andrew said, and did not elaborate. “Speaking of tedious children, where is Kevin? He has something of mine.” He made a grabby hand gesture at David in case his meaning wasn’t clear. “Do us a favor.”

        David looked at his watch. “A little late to take it if you want any sleep tonight.”

        Andrew gestured again. “It is not against the rules. Do not look at her, Coach, your favoritism is showing. We both know she has no say in it.”
        David set his coffee aside and went in search of Kevin. Betsy awaited until she heard a door open and coles further down the hall before turning a steady look on Andrew. “I can’t tell you to not take it, but I will ask you anyway. You and I both know this is not the way to deal with what happened to you.”

        “We have spent too much time together if you are so reckless,” Andrew said, fidgeting with the bandages on hi face again. “Lots of eyes, Bee, so many eyes. I do not think they will care about insomnia when they finally have the chance to nail us to the wall. Better safe than sorry, yes? They cannot keep him. I will not let them.”

        Betsy put a finger to the tape at his cheekbone in silent question but waited until Andrew dropped his hand before trying to peel the gauze up. She sucked in a slow breath through gritted teeth at the stitches and bruises along his temple.

        “I didn’t even get to keep it,” Andrew complained. “How stingy. I’ve never tried brandy.”

        “It is overrated,” Betsy reassured him, “and not intended to mix with your medication.”

        “Oh, but what do doctors know?”

        “I know what happened to you today was beyond cruel, and that Drake’s death will not undo what he did to you.” Betsy folded the bloodied gauze in half and set it on the table beside her mug. “I know our system has failed you every step along the way and that a part of you will carry that distrust and betrayal for many years to come, if not for the rest of oyur life. And I know you have done astoundingly well despite life’s every attempt to crush you. I’m sorry,” she said, trying and failing to catch his eye, “and I’m so, so proud of you.”

        “Milk,” Andrew said, getting up from his chair.

        “Andrew,” she said, and he froze only a step away from the table.        

        It was an eternity before he finally looked back at her. She said nothing, content to wait him out, and finally the words crawled out of him: “Everyone knows now, Bee.”
        And that, she thought, was the harsh truth he would medicate to avoid processing. Not his uncle’s betrayal or Drake’s violence, but having his violation broadcast against his will to a family he couldn’t let go of and wouldn’t let in. There were shadows in his eyes as he looked at her and through her to a future where they would always know this about him, and Betsy would have gone to him if she wasn’t so sure he would retreat.

        “They will not judge you for it,” she said with quiet surety.

        “Who fears the monster that knows the taste of a whip?” Andrew asked.

        “Maybe it’s past time to put the monster away,” Betsy said. “You could be their friend, their cousin, their brother. Don’t you think you deserve that?”

        “Oh, Bee,” Andrew said, a little too tired to be pitying. “With him on our heels?”

        The thump of a door closing was just loud enough to be jarring. It was an unstable warning that David was on his way back to them, and Betsy was as grateful for it as she was disappointed in the timing. Andrew’s expression cleared even as he turned away from her, and he made a beeline for the stove to mix his second drink.

        David brought his pill over to the table and set it at Andrew’s place. Andrew wasn’t long in joining them, though the cocoa he’d put together was more the consistency of brownie batter than a hot drink. For all that she loved chocolate, Betsy’s teeth ached just watching him stir it.

        “Now that you’re doomed to bounce off the walls all night, any plans?” David asked.

        “Chaos and mayhem.” Andrew swallowed his pill with a spoonful of sludge.

The King’s Men

Aaron

Aaron Minyard idly turned the couch pillow over in his hands, looking for the spot he'd been working at these last several weeks. At last his fingernail snagged on loosened thread, and he began gently picking at it. His gaze drifted around the room, from the steaming mugs on the coffee table sitting inches from his knees to the glittering knickknacks on a low shelf. He hadn't looked at either of his companions since entering Betsy Dobson's office sixteen minutes ago, but he listened to the conversation with more interest than he could afford to show.

This week changed everything, and even he knew that. On Monday, Ichirou Moriyama had chosen Neil over his own family and bought out the Perfect Court. One of these days Aaron would love to know what about that mouthy liar had people bending over backwards for him, but the jagged heat that used to accompany such thoughts was long gone. He could waste his time being angry, or he could go the tried-and-true Minyard route of infuriating everyone else around him.

Victory was a prickling ache over every inch of his skin, and Aaron couldn't quite stop the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Aaron?" Dobson asked.

Of course she'd noticed his expression change, but Aaron doubted she expected a response. He'd never said a word to her, even when he started following Andrew in here a few weeks ago. This group counseling fiasco was nothing more than an elaborate and angry game of telephone: Dobson talked at Aaron and to Andrew, Andrew talked to Dobson and Aaron, and Aaron talked to Andrew alone. Dobson was important, this "Bee" that his brother had somehow latched onto despite burning every other psychiatrist he'd been forced to see, but Aaron wasn't ready to let her in.

That didn't mean he wasn't ready to use her as a weapon now that he had all the ammunition he needed. Andrew had loaded the gun himself, he couldn't be surprised when Aaron took aim and pulled the trigger.

"Hey, Bee," Aaron said.

He didn't miss the cool look Andrew flicked him: for his theft of the nickname, maybe, or distrust over Aaron's sudden willingness to acknowledge her presence. Aaron returned his stare with a placid look of his own. Andrew looked relaxed where he was tucked into the other corner of the couch, one knee hugged loosely to his chest, but Aaron wasn't fooled. They were twins; there was too much of them in each other despite all the years they'd spent apart. Aaron held his gaze and took the first shot.

"Did you know about Andrew and Neil?"

"Careful," Andrew said, but Aaron slid his gaze back to Dobson.

The psychiatrist set her mug of cocoa down to give him her undivided attention. Aaron's smile was so sharp he was surprised he didn't cut his own lips open on it Dobson's was encouraging as she considered her ornery patient. She motioned for him to continue and said, "I'm sorry, Aaron, but if you could be a little more specific?"

"Sure," Aaron said, and elaborated, "Did you know Andrew's fucking Neil?

He had a moment to see Dobson's eyebrows go up, a reaction she wasn't quite quick enough to hide, before Andrew cut in with a flat, "I am not."

Andrew wouldn't waste his breath lying when Aaron was right here to argue with him, but Aaron knew his accusation wasn't far off the mark. A week ago Andrew had come back to their dorm room porting wet hair and Neil's atrocious clothes. All week at the cabin he and Neil had circled each other on the outskirts, strung together like two weights on a line. They'd even had their own room and the privacy to do whatever they wanted so long as they kept it down. That Andrew hadn't sealed the deal yet was the least important detail, but Aaron was willing to be an ass about it.

"You sure?"

Andrew pointed a warning finger at him. "He is not your business. Do not test me."

He said your business, but neither Andrew nor Neil had denied their relationship in front of the Foxes when Allison kept trying to bring it up. That meant it wasn't Aaron Andrew was trying to hide from. Aaron tipped his head toward Dobson and said, "You mean it's not hers. You never told her about him? That's interesting."

Dobson looked between them, studying each twin with a considering look on her face, before leaning back in her chair and resting her folded hands on her stomach. "Would you like to talk about Neil today?"

"No," Andrew said, as Aaron said, "Yes." "Coward," Aaron accused him quietly. "You can step outside if you don't want to hear what I have to say about him. The doc doesn't mind, does she? I just need five minutes, I think, to get all the pertinent details across. Go slash some tires, or whatever it is you do for fun."

Andrew didn't get up, as Aaron suspected he wouldn't. He might not want to have this conversation-which was fascinating in and of itself, since he and Dobson seemed to be on such easy terms-but he definitely didn't want Aaron to have it without him here.

"You're here on my time because of us," Andrew reminded him, gesturing between them.

"Stop confusing your priorities."

"You made him a priority," Aaron said. "Trust me, I would prefer to forget he exists. I know you can't tell me what you really think of him," he said, looking toward Dobson, "but for the record I think he's an insufferable asshole. At least now I know where that attitude problem comes from, but it only makes him marginally more tolerable. Exy this, Exy that, get a fucking hobby already. Oh, but I guess he did?" He sent a pointed look at Andrew. "You know, I asked him about you. I asked him if he was taking advantage of you. He tried to punch me out."

"You bring out that urge in people," Andrew said. "Betsy and I were talking about Monday."

It was a slip-up Andrew couldn't afford right now, and Aaron smiled when he heard it. Andrew hadn't called her "Betsy" in over a year. He'd never seen Andrew so hard on a back foot, and it was as terrifying as it was thrilling. It meant maybe he was right, and maybe the hope that had been humming in his veins for a week wasn't so far-fetched. Andrew didn't want to talk about Neil with Dobson because once he broached that subject he had to either lie to all of them or admit Neil was more important than he wanted him to be.

"Sure," Aaron said. "Let's talk about Monday. I like Neil's promise ring, by the way."

"Arm bands," Andrew said before Dobson could ask, but he was looking at Aaron when he said it. Aaron tried to remember if Andrew had even looked Dobson's way since Aaron first dropped Neil's name. It was important that he hadn't, but Aaron couldn't quite lock in why yet.

He turned it over and over in his thoughts as quickly as he could, looking for an answer while Andrew tried to explain himself. "His father's people tore up his arms with a lighter and knives, and none if it is going to fade. He doesn't need to see those."

"Matching set," Aaron said. "Very cute."

Andrew's smile was all ice, and he wielded honesty like a knife. "They're not decorative, you ignorant little shit. Someone like you wouldn't understand the importance of hiding scars.

Aaron stared back at him, looking for the answer behind that accusation. There was something more there; he could feel a warning heat along the back of his thoughts. Aaron glancd at Dobson, but her gaze was calm as she studied Andrew. She understood what Andrew wasn't saying. Aaron would have to figure it out later, but not now. Andrew was trying to pull him off track, and Aaron knew beyond a doubt he'd never find his way back if he followed it to whatever ugly truth Andrew was hiding. He forced Andrew's words aside to haunt him later and focused on the only argument that would save them both.

"She knows what you won't say to me now," he said, "but not about Neil. Why? Afraid of what you'd say to her, or afraid she's going to judge you for it?" He rounded on Dobson even as Andrew was brushing aside his accusations with a careless wave of his hand."We've spent a few weeks spilling our feelings. It's about time for you to share yours, right? Give us the verdict. It bother you that your pet project is queer?"

"In no universe would I ever hold someone's sexuality against them," Dobson said, holding Aaron's gaze. "Does it bother you?"

Aaron guessed, "Nicky's complained about me, and I've never been here to complain about him in exchange.

He waited a beat, but of course she couldn't confirm or deny it. The rules of her profession meant she couldn't tell him what anyone else had said in his absence. He didn't mind because he was sure he was right.

"I hated Nicky at first," Aaron admitted, because if he lied here everything would fall apart. "How could I not, when Mom and Uncle Luther and literally everyone I went to school with were so sure it was such a disgusting and damning lifestyle to fall into? I hated him, and I wanted nothing to do with him, but he tried, and he tried, and he tried anyway. He took care of us,' he jerked a thumb between himself and Andrew." He refused to give up on us no matter how hard we tried to push him away.

"I'm not always okay with what he is, but these days it's less that he's gay. It's that he-"Aaron grasped for the right word, but what he found wasn't quite it: "weaponized it. It took him so long to come to terms with it that now he lashes out frst, pushing as hard as he can to figure out who's safe and who isn't. And yeah, maybe it helps him sleep at night knowing right away who can and can't tolerate him, but you don't hear what he says about our teammates. If someone talked about Katelyn that way, I'd have punched him out years ago. I'm not going to tolerate his lewd jokes just because he's my cousin."

Aaron turned on Andrew. "I don't care if you're gay, and I don't care that you picked the literal most irritating person on the planet to fall for. I care that you're being a hypocrite."

Andrew didn't answer immediately, but Aaron was content to study him and wait. Andrew was picking idly at his jeans: an agitated tic that had mostly disappeared once his medicine was out of his system. Maybe he was a thousand miles from here, pretending this conversation wasn't happening, or maybe he needed a few more moments to come to terms with their easy acceptance.

A few months ago, Aaron never would have imagined Andrew needed his approval. Finding out how important he was to Andrew was an ongoing, eye-opening experience. Finding out just how important Dobson was, that Andrew wouldn't risk her unfavorable opinion by telling her the truth about his sexuality, was equally fascinating. Aaron still didn't particularly like her or trust her, but he didn't have to. She truly mattered to Andrew when so few people did anymore.

Finally, finally Andrew went still, and Aaron watched the tension bleedout of him. “I'll bite," Andrew said at last. "How am I a hypocrite?"

"You've ostracized and threatened every single girl I've tried to date since high school," Aaron said. "I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to give you another five years here. Family only," he said, more for Dobson's benefit than Andrew's. "The team is a gray area out of necessity, but relationships are off-limits. Your rule, not mine," he reminded Andrew. "I love Katelyn. I love her more than anything. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, but I am trying so goddamned hard to wait until graduation because you asked me to. So why aren't you doing the same?"

"You have abysmal taste in girls," Andrew told him. "Always have, always will."

“Thаt's not аn апswеr"

"They are not the same."

"They are the same," Aaron insisted. "I don't care what Nicky says about blood not making a family. Neil is not our family, not with the way you look at him. So how is Katelyn a violation of the rules and Neil isn't?"

Andrew looked at Dobson for the first time since Aaron joined the conversation. "I liked him more when he wasn't speaking to me, Bee."

Dobson's smile was slow but pleased as she took sides at last."I doubt that."

"I told her you were never going to develop a personality of your own," Andrew told Aaron. "She held out hope for you regardless. She has a thing for lost causes."

Aaron ignored that. "I asked you a question.' "I answered you," Andrew said. "They are not the same thing,"

"Then break up with Neil," Aaron said.

"There is nothing to break up."

"Sure," Aaron said, in a tone that very clearly said I don't believe you. Dobson was used to sitting out of their conversations once they got going, only stepping in to mediate when it fell apart or if Andrew dragged her into it. Aaron could almost feel her counting seconds before she had to get involved. When the silence stretched a minute too long, Dobson collected her cocoa and treated each of them to a long look. Aaron felt the weight of her gaze on him but didn't return it; he was too busy staring Andrew down.

"Tell me about Katelyn," Dobson invited him.

Andrew made a dismissive noise, but Aaron would take any chance he could to talk about her. "She's on the Vixen cheerleading squad, but I met her outside of the court. We share majors, so we're taking a lot of the same courses," he explained. "She wants to be a pediatrician, so she'll probably apply to MUSC after we're done here. I would've preferred we left the state, but I can't argue with its reputation."

"I've heard only good things," Dobson agreed. "Neurosurgeon, right?”

He'd never told her that. Nicky was the most likely culprit to have spilled his secrets, except Aaron had never told him the specifics either. Medicine, he'd said, vague and evasive the few times Nicky complained about his so-called boring major. The last time Aaron put that wish into the world in front of his family was when his mother was alive. He and she had been watching a medical drama with dinner while Andrew hovered silent and distant in the doorway, and Aaron had foolishly said, I want to do that. His mother laughed him out of the room for daring to think he could make anything of himself.

Aaron had always wondered why Andrew bothered to sign them with Wymack's ragtag team. Not for his own benefit, surely, since Andrew claimed education was a waste of time and Exy almost as tedious. How rude, that a few words from Dobson could put so much into perspective. Too much, too late, and Aaron despised them both for letting it fall this far apart.

"Aaron?" Dobson asked, sensing she'd perhaps crossed a line.

Aaron scrubbed a rough hand across his eyes. "Fuck you, Andrew," he said, without any heat in it. "I'm trying, okay? I'm trying. Years too late, I know, but you refused me first. I begged you to come home with me. You can't blame me for not trusting you."

"I am capable of multitasking," Andrew said.

Aaron heard what he didn't say: I blame us both.

"We've spent years making each other miserable. Can't we finally make peace?" Aaron asked. Andrew gave no sign that he'd heard Aaron, so Aaron pushed at him with the couch pillow until Andrew slid a cool look his way."I don't want to lose what we're doing here. I don't want to lose you. But I won't lose her either. There has to be a middle ground somewhere."

"I don't trust her," Andrew said.

"Can you tell me why?" Dobson asked, buying Aaron time to get himself together.

"Aaron's all bruises," Andrew said. "He's on the lookout for a quick fix that'll undo everything his mother did to him. The girls he doted on in high school, the friends he ran with, every last one of them would have shoved him underwater if it meant they wouldn't drown." He made a cutting gesture with his hand. "She's just another tiny skirt here to use him up and distract him from what he wants."

"But she's respected this rule of yours, isn't that right?' Dobson asked. She glanced at Aaron for a nod when she asked "You met her a year ago? She's followed your rules for a year, then, loving Aaron from a distance because she understands how important you two are to each other. That has to mean something, Andrew. You know it does."

"My hands are full with too many idiots," Andrew said "When she shows her true colors, I will not have the energy to put him together again."

"He deserves the right to try," Dobson said, quiet but sure.

"You both do."

"It is not the same, Bee."

"You promised me once you would never lie to me," Dobson said with a gentle smile."A wound can't heal so long as the knife is buried in it. It's time to pull it, Andrew. You can't be brothers while you are each other's jailors."

She waited a few beats, but of course Andrew had nothing to say to that. At last Dobson's smile twitched into something a little more pleased, and she said, "Neil, then?"

Andrew got up from the couch. "Tick tock, Bee. Goodbye."

Aaron glanced at the clock to see their time was up. Dobson walked them to her office door without comment, and they went down the hall with too many words unspoken. Aaron got into the passenger seat and weighed the silence between them. Andrew looked unhurried and unbothered, but Aaron had seen his control slip enough times to know they'd made progress. He wondered if he should let it go and see how it played out between now and next week's session, but he couldn't resist one last attempt.

"Peace?" he asked.

"We're Foxes," Andrew said. "There's no such thing,"

"Ceasefire, then," Aaron tried. "Give her to me, Andrew."

"You will regret it."

"Says the man dating a mafioso."

"I'm not dating him," Andrew said, with a hint of impatience.

Aaron saw right through him, and it was enough to make him smile as he turned his gaze out the window."Liar.”