Page 76 of Beyond Redemption

“Night,” I echoed.

He hesitated, shifting his weight, then looked back at me. “You got a minute?”

I read the tone more than the words. “Yeah, sure.”

Liis didn’t ask where or why. She didn’t need to. Her gaze moved from Travis to me, assessing, then she gave a small nod as if she’d already factored in a late-night visit.

“I’ll be right back,” I said. “Don’t fall asleep.”

“Take your time,” she replied, putting away her toiletries.

I stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind me with a soft click. Travis waited a few feet down, hands in the pockets of his shorts. He didn’t say anything right away. He just turned and began walking, expecting me to follow.

We moved through the hallway without drawing attention, passing closed doors, the muted sounds of the family settling in bleeding through the walls. One of the nephews protested a bit too loud for that time of night, followed by a quieter correction.Somewhere farther down, Oliver cried, sharp at first, then softer as Trenton or Camille picked him up.

Travis pushed open a wide door at the end of the corridor and stepped into the common area. It had been set up like a living space, scaled larger to accommodate more people. Sectionals, a few love seats, low tables, and lamps positioned to create pockets of light instead of one overhead source.

He crossed to one of the sofas and dropped into it, leaning forward, forearms anchored on his thighs. I took the seat opposite him, angled slightly so we weren’t squared off.

For a few seconds, we sat there in silence. The hum of the ventilation system filled the space, instead.

“Er… you doing okay?” he finally asked.

“I’m fine.”

He nodded as if he expected my answer. “Yeah.”

Another pause. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the floor for a second before coming back up. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he said. “About what you did. With Olive.”

Her name landed where it always did these days, bordering on accusation.

“I don’t agree with it,” he continued, voice even. “I wouldn’t have made that call. Taking her, letting everyone believe she was dead…” He exhaled through his nose, not out of frustration but acknowledgment. “That’s not something I could’ve done.”

I held his gaze, waiting for the rest.

“But that’s why it had to be you,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “You’re the one who’s already done the hard things, covered for us, even took the blame before anyone had time to point fingers.”

My brows raised, surprised.

He leaned back, shoulders settling into the cushion, eyes still on me. “You weren’t trying to hurt anybody. You were trying to keep her alive, and you didn’t have a lot of options. I get it. I do.”

Of all my brothers, Travis wasn’t who I thought would be the first to set aside his emotions and consider things from my perspective. His words didn’t erase my guilt, but they weren’t supposed to. They just redistributed the weight in a way I hadn’t managed on my own.

“I understand the anger,” I began, but Travis interjected.

“I couldn’t have done it. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing do to.”

I let that sit, turning it over without pushing it away.

Travis watched me for a second, then nodded like he’d confirmed something for himself. “When I was a kid, you were like a second dad. You made sure we had clean clothes every morning. You waited to walk us home from school every day.” He noted my expression. “Yeah, I remember. It was a full-time job making sure we didn’t screw up too bad, and when we did before you could stop it, there were times you took the brunt of our punishments. You were right the other day when you said it was always all on you. And you never even got a fuckin’ thank you.”

A faint sound of laughter carried down the hall, followed by a quick shushing. The bunker settled again.

“I looked up to you,” he continued. “And I want you to know I still do, Tommy.”

I shook my head once, reflex more than disagreement. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”

“But I do,” he said simply. “You’ve been carrying all of us longer than you should’ve had to.” He leaned forward again, forearms on his thighs, hands clasped loosely. “You did what you did because you knew if you did nothing, not only would you still catch the blame, but we’d all lose her forever. And forwhat it’s worth”—he paused, searching for the right way to put his thoughts together—“Olive’s alive. Falyn’s alive. We’re all still here. If it were left to any of the rest of us, I’m not sure that would be the case, all because you made the call none of us would’ve or could’ve made.”