Page 242 of Sword & Shadow
Deckard and Evylin looked up at him.
Realizing he needed to be more specific, Thom turned to his brother. “I’d like to, uh—I’d like to talk with you.”
Though Deckard hesitated, Evylin patted his arm encouragingly. “Go on,” she said. “I promise to be here when you get back.”
With a heavy sigh, Deckard pushed himself off the ground. The shadows seemed to cling to his face, giving him a haggard look. He motioned for Thom to lead the way, and they began to move toward the trees. The space between them could have allowed three men to walk side by side in the gap. Neither bothered with small talk or pleasantries. They were too tired for that. Moreover, they were too aware of the potential for argument in their weary states. The impending conversation was twenty-seven years in the making, and neither wanted to rush into it.
Far enough from the others to speak securely, even should a raised voice be a possibility, Deckard stopped first. He crossed his arms and met Thom’s stare. “What did you want to discuss?” he asked calmly.
Too calmly.
Thom tried not to let his hackles rise. “You know, don’t you?” he said.
“I assume,” Deckard replied. “But I’d rather give you the opportunity to lead this conversation.”
Thom shut his eyes. He couldn’t look at his brother. Not when he was trying to hold it together. Why did Jonn have to be so damned accommodating all the time? It would be easier if he simply got angry like everyone else. Instead, he threw his goodness in Thom’s face, making him feel inferior for having such contentious emotions. Albeit unintentional, it was bloody annoying.
In an attempt to quell his rising irritation, Thom took a steadying breath. “I need you to stop doing that,” he said.
Deckard frowned. “Doing what?”
“Being so high and mighty.”
Immediately, Deckard bristled.
Thom tossed his hands in the air, already exasperated. “I want to apologize. But I can’t promise I won’t make this worse if you don’t stop acting like I’m a child.”
Deckard pinched the bridge of his nose like a long-suffering parent. “You don’t have to do this, Thom,” he said, then took a step back toward the camp. “You’re my brother. I’ll always forgive you, even for this.”
“Stop it!” Thom exclaimed in a sharp and cutting tone. “I’m not apologizing for you, you stupid git. I’m doing it for myself.”
Deckard froze, exhaustion plain on his face. Then he scoffed. “All right, go ahead then. Apologize so that you feel better.”
Thom groaned, holding his hands out in desperation. “Why can’t you see what you’re doing? I’m trying, Jonn. I’m really trying. But you’re making this so bloody difficult.”
“I’m making it difficult?”
“Yes!”
Deckard glared at him. “I’m not the one who asked my brother’s wife to leave him. You can’t get much more difficult than that, Thom.”
Agitated and too worn out to control his temper, Thom began to pace. “This is unbelievable.”
“Oh, I’m sorry my hurt is too confusing for you to believe. Would you like me to explain it to you?”
A thousand words tried to burst out of Thom at once, and he just wound up spluttering indignantly for a few seconds before shouting something that sounded something like, “Bwah!”
Deckard sighed with disappointment.
Somehow, that discontented sound brought back Thom’s ability to articulate. “I don’t understand you, Jonn. I’m trying to tell you that I’m sorry, but you slough it off as though what I did doesn’t matter. Of course, you’re hurt. She’s your wife, and I tried to undermine your relationship with her—multiple times! But I’m trying to explain that I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Deckard demanded. “You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew I loved her, so you wanted her just like you wanted everything else I ever had. Not because you loved her yourself but because you couldn’t stand to see me happy.”
“Exactly!” Thom yelled triumphantly. He let out a hysterical laugh, thankful that he didn’t have to explain himself. “Ididn’tlove her. I never wanted her—notreally. But I didn’t realize that until after it happened.”
That surprised Deckard. He stood there, lips parted and brow pinched.
Thom knew why. In all their fights, Thom was careful never to admit his competitive nature. He’d always clung to the pretense he was in some way just as injured as Deckard in their fights. Though he was the instigator, he played the victim. He refused to take responsibility, instead blaming his brother for his resentment.
