Page 244 of Sword & Shadow
“Because I’m not you.”
The admission hung heavily between them.
Thom sighed, the truth finally revealed. “Like I said, it’s not an excuse for my behavior, but...I just thought you should know. I was never mad at you. In the whole of our lives, my anger was never truly directed at you. It was directed at myself because I couldn’t be like you.”
Shaking his head, Thom wished he could turn back time and help his younger self through this understanding. “I’d get so angry as a kid, so hurt that you stayed good and considerate through it all. You apologized before me; you took the blame for me. It was like you didn’t care that I was a brat, like you didn’t notice how hard I was trying.”
“I did notice,” Deckard said, compassion in his eyes and voice. The same compassion that had once made Thom feel so frustrated. “That’s why I did those things. I could tell you were trying, and that’s why I didn’t blame you for any of it.”
Deckard took one step forward. “I was never perfect, Thom. I was just older. Perhaps I have a more levelheaded disposition, but that doesn’t make me a better man. And it certainly didn’t make me naturally good at anything either. I have five years of practice on you, five years to learn and grow. You were never inferior to me. You were just younger.”
“I understand that now,” Thom promised. “But as a child...I just felt incapable. And it wounded me, making me feel as though I could never be good enough for you and your grand ideals.”
Deckard drew in a sharp breath, and Thom couldn’t help his somber grin. “You always wanted the best, Jonn. From our earliest days, I remember how determined you were to do more, to be more. And when I couldn’t measure up, I feared that you wouldn’t want me.”
A long silence hung in the air, the feet separating them feeling like miles. At last, Thom had voiced the insecurities that had plagued his heart for nearly three decades. He felt lighter, emptied of the resentment and bitterness. Yet, he felt isolated as well. Confessing his sins didn’t change the distance, time, and actions that had placed a chasm between him and his brother.
Things were not fixed. Not yet, after everything he’d done.
At last, Deckard sighed. “Oh, Thom,” he muttered. He crossed the divide then and set his hand on Thom’s shoulder. “This is my fault.”
“Jonn, no—”
“It’s my turn now,” he insisted. “You listen to what I have to say, all right?”
Thom pressed his lips together but nodded.
“Good.” Deckard held his stare, steady and sure. That look expressed everything Thom had always hoped to see in his brother’s gaze—the regard of an equal. “Throughout our lives, I’ve always known—I knew that you wanted to prove yourself by becoming like me. And I should have told you years ago: I never wanted nor expected that of you. I rather liked the brother I got. He was braver than I and was more willing to take risks and live without fear of the consequences. He had more passion than I did, feeling everything deeply and loving more fiercely. I was never very good at that. I can make people feel seen and heard; I can care for them. But to truly feel something for them? That was hard. Yet, you never had a problem with it. You either love someone, or you don’t. And by Allore, do youlovethe people whom you love.”
Something in Thom broke at those words. His whole life, he’d attempted to earn Deckard’s respect by becoming like him, imitating him in his excellence. Now, he learned that had he just been himself, he would have had his brother’s respect all along. The knowledge brought the greatest relief and pain all at once.
Deckard squeezed his shoulder more tightly. “I forgive you, Thom, forever,” he said, words thick and impassioned. “Not to be the better person or because it’s the right thing to do. I’m forgiving you because after Evylin...”
A small, tender smile filled Deckard’s face, and Thom could honestly say he’d never felt so cherished in his entire life.
“After Evylin,” Deckard concluded, “you’re the person I love most in this world.”
Thom’s heart and breath stuttered. And for once, he realized he actually believed it when his brother said he loved him.Him. Not the idea of him, not his efforts, and not out of duty either. Deckard genuinely loved and valued Thom as he was.
And that meant Thom could be enough.
Still, there was the sting of the guilt that lingered for all he’d done and all he’d said.
“Did I—” Thom broke off, voice scratchy with emotion. “Did I ruin it? With Evie. Is she—she told me she didn’t want to come between us. Is she going to leave you because...because of me?”
An amused grin slipped over Deckard’s face. He released Thom and stepped back. “No,” he said simply.
Thom’s brow ached from how long he’d kept it furrowed. “No, she’s not leaving you, or no, it’s not because of me?”
“She’s not leaving me.”
Immediately, a sigh flew out of Thom’s lungs. “Thank Allore! I thought I’d ruined everything. And she’s staying with you, as in, for good?”
Deckard nodded, a strange expression on his face.
Recognizing the subtext in his brother’s averted gaze and reluctant expression, Thom gaped. “Oh,” he muttered, then his brow rose. “Oh!”
Deckard gave him a look that said he didn’t care to discuss the solidification of his union with Evylin.
