A brother's doubt

The late afternoon sun bore down on the field as we ran drill after drill, the sharp scent of freshly cut grass mixing with sweat and adrenaline in the air. I welcomed the physical strain, throwing myself harder into every sprint, every tackle, because it dulled the constant, gnawing ache inside me. The ache that had a name.

Avery.

Even out here, where she had no business being in my thoughts, she was there. A ghost in the corner of my mind, her scent haunting me like a cruel temptation I couldn’t shake. Every time I closed my eyes I saw her—pressed against me in that locker room, wide-eyed and trembling, and I heard myself claiming her like a savage before I could stop the word from slipping out. Mine.

I couldn’t forget the way her soft gasp had sounded. Or the way her skin had felt beneath my hands, fragile and warm, sparking something primal inside me I could barely contain.

I’d been avoiding her since that day—not because I wanted to, but because if I didn’t, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself from crossing a line she wasn’t ready for.

The whistle blew sharply, cutting through my thoughts, and I ran the last stretch of a drill, throwing myself into a tackle dummy with a force that sent it skidding backward across the turf. A few of the guys clapped and whistled, but I didn’t hear them.

I was already walking back to the sideline when I saw him.

Ethan.

He stood just beyond the fence, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set tight. His posture screamed confidence to everyone else, but I didn’t miss the way his fingers dug into his own arms or the tension in his eyes.

I knew this was coming.

It didn’t take long.

As soon as Coach dismissed us for water, Ethan ducked under the fence and strode across the field toward me, his sneakers crunching on the grass. He didn’t even bother lowering his voice.

“What the hell is going on with you and my sister?”

The guys around us froze, their laughter cutting off as they glanced at each other, sensing the sharp edge to his tone.

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. I simply turned and met his stare, letting the silence stretch between us until the rest of the team got the hint and started shuffling away.

“She’s your sister,” I said evenly. “You tell me what’s going on with her.”

That caught him off guard. His brow furrowed, but his anger didn’t dissipate.

“I’m asking you,” he snapped. “You’ve been hovering around her for weeks now. Everyone’s talking. People say you—”

“They’re right,” I cut in, my voice low but steady. “I’ve been protecting her.”

He scoffed. “Protecting her? Is that what you call it? Showing up every time she’s in trouble? Keeping her to yourself like… like she’s yours? Because she’s not, Thornton. She’s my sister, and she deserves better than some guy playing games with her head.”

The words stung, but I didn’t let it show.

“I’m not playing games,” I said, taking a deliberate step closer. “And maybe you should ask yourself why she needs protecting in the first place.”

For the first time, his mask of arrogance faltered.

I saw the flicker of confusion in his eyes, and behind it… something else. Guilt, maybe.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

I didn’t hold back.

“I’m talking about what you don’t see. Or what you refuse to see. The way she walks through those halls with her head down because she can’t stand one more sneer or one more shove. The way Savannah and her little pack corner her when you’re not looking and leave her bleeding. The way your parents treat her like she’s nothing while you stand there and say nothing.”

His shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“You want to know what’s going on between me and your sister?” I continued, my voice dropping lower, sharper. “I’ll tell you. She’s breaking. And I can’t stand by and watch it happen. Someone has to look out for her. And if it’s not going to be you, then it’s damn well going to be me.”

For a long moment, he just stared at me.

I could see him turning over every word, fighting the truth of them.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally, his eyes fell to the ground, and he muttered something I almost didn’t catch.

“I didn’t know.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, tilting my head slightly as I studied him.

“You didn’t want to know,” I corrected quietly.

His head jerked up at that, his eyes flashing, but this time it wasn’t anger. It was shame.

“You think I don’t care about her?” he demanded, though his voice cracked on the last word.

I shook my head slowly. “I think you care more about keeping up appearances than you do about seeing what’s right in front of you.”

That seemed to hit him where it hurt. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and he took a step back, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“I…” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening again. Then, softer, “Is it really that bad?”

The memory of Avery’s tear-streaked face flashed in my mind, the way she flinched when Savannah cornered her, the quiet sobs she thought no one heard.

“Yes,” I said simply.

Ethan scrubbed a hand over his face, looking older in that moment than I’d ever seen him.

“I didn’t…” He trailed off again, then finally met my eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

I studied him for a long beat before answering.

“Start acting like her brother,” I said flatly. “Pay attention. Speak up. Don’t let her fight alone anymore.”

He nodded slowly, though the weight of my words seemed to press down on him.

When he finally turned to leave, he stopped after a few steps and glanced back at me, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and something else I couldn’t name.

“And you?” he asked quietly.

I raised a brow. “What about me?”

“What are you to her?” His voice was almost too soft to hear.

The question sat between us, heavy and unspoken.

I didn’t answer.

Because the truth was something he wasn’t ready to hear.

Not yet.

I watched him walk away, his shoulders hunched, his hands shoved into his pockets.

For the first time, he looked like a man carrying more than just his own pride.

When I finally turned back toward the field, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the grass.

I closed my eyes and breathed deep, her scent already finding me on the evening breeze.

No matter how much I fought it, she was already mine.

And I wasn’t letting her go