Find Her, Keep Her (CFTM Sequel)

Chapter 4

Elias

My brother looks like shit. And I'm not talking woke-up-on-the-wrong-side-of-bed kinda shit, I'm talking hasn't-shaved-or-slept in-three-days level shit.

The thing is, Tanner always has his life together. Like, this is the guy who takes the time to iron his t-shirts and color codes all the pants in his closet. This is the guy who does his laundry every week instead of figuring out new ways to wear old, dirty clothes. 

Tanner's organized. 

Borderline perfect.

But today he just--pathetic. 

He's not even standing as tall as he usually does, and he always loves showing off the couple inches he has on me. His hair's a damn mess, his eyes are bloodshot, and his clothes look like he backed his car over them a couple a' times before putting them on.

Something's off.

Way off.

But my mom's too busy hugging and kissing him to notice. But I notice everything--even the things he doesn't want me to.

"Elias, come say hi to your brother! He missed you!" Mom says.

Missed me? Please. 

The only thing he missed was the chance to take a shower before he showed up here. I take a couple steps in his direction like I actually plan on saying hello, but the stink coming off his clothes stops me dead.

Alcohol.

I'd know that smell anywhere.

He never drinks outside of social situations.

Ever.

Even when he does drink, it's a beer, and he's done for the night.

But it's in the afternoon and he reeks.

"Hey, Tan. You look like shit. What's wrong? Did a train hit you on the way over?"

The look in my mom's eyes when she turns around to shush me wipes the smile right off my face. Tanner brushes off the comment like it doesn't bother him, but I know it does.

Good.

At least he's capable of feeling something.

"I'm not in the mood, Elias. It's been a long day."

"Clearly. Look at your face! I didn't know forty-five minute flights were that hardcore. Didn't the baby bottles of liquor take off the edge? How many did you have, buddy? Twenty?"

The rattle and crack of my mom's hand ripples across the side of my face before I even realize what's happening.

I stagger backwards and shake off the shock only to see her on the verge of tears when her eyes meet mine. She's looking at me the way she did the day she told me Dad cheated. But this is the kind of hurt he brings out of her. Not me.

I'd never hurt her like that.

So why the hell is she looking at me like I'm him?

I'm not him.

I'm not anything like him.

Am I?

"What the hell was that for?"

I ask like I don't know why she hit me, but I totally do.

I deserved it. 

Taking cheap shots at my brother when he's clearly in bad shape was a dick move, but part of me wants him to know what it feels like to be me for once. To be the guy everyone judges when he walks in the door. The guy who's better at screwing up than playing superman.