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“Here’s this guy again,” he slurs, much more courage in his system this time around.

Lunging at him, I get within inches before a hand snakes around the collar of my shirt.

“Settle yourself. You’ll kill him.”

The familiar voice of my brother Royce echoes in my ear, and I can’t calm my rage to focus on how the fuck he’s here.

With a snap of his fingers, a guard in black comes to pull the fucker out of line and move him away from the club.

“Where the fuck did you come from?”

“My business is none of your concern.” His grip remains on my collar, but even bigger than him, Royce still ensures I know I’m his little brother.

“I thought you left town.” My adrenaline is still at an all-time high as I look behind me to try to find that motherfucker anywhere in sight.

“I had some things to handle. Walk,” he demands.

Sympathy is only about a mile from my penthouse. It’s one of the many reasons it became my go-to club in the first place. I never thought I’d appreciate its closeness after almost getting into another fight.

“What the fuck was that?” Royce asks, the second we enter my complex.

The tug-of-war my heart is having with my head is palpable. My reasoning behind testing the waters at the club tonight volley back and forth.

I’m not like him, I’m just like him, I’m not like him, I’m exactly like him.

I battle with myself as the elevator rises to my floor.

Sliding against the door with my hands plastered on my temples, I let out a throaty groan.

What the fuck am I doing?

“Who was that guy?” Royce asks as we enter my apartment.

“An abuser that my father represents.”

“And you’re willing to risk your life for him because?”

I don’t say anything, but it doesn’t take long for Royce to connect the dots.

“He hurt your girl?”

I give a tight nod, walking over to my bar cart to grab a bottle of Jack when Royce snatches it from my hand as I push past him, flopping on the couch.

“This won’t help.” He sets the bottle gently onto my coffee table.

“What the fuck will?” All the frustration in my body comes out through my voice.

“You’re a lot like me, you know?” Royce sits with such a presence, I can’t help but listen. “I know you’re out here trying to decipher if who you are connects to your father, beating yourself up for habits you’ve already rid… I’m familiar with that.”

My stare holds his, molars grinding as he continues.

“I lost who I was completely after football. Blamed everyone I could, thought I was twenty different people, until I just decided to be my-fucking-self. There’s truth to your worry, Jett. You have parts of him, but you also have parts of me, parts of Mom, Dad, Ivan, Duke. You’re a blend of all of us, but you know who holds the biggest part of you?”

I know without wavering; he doesn’t even have to tell me.

“You know what you need to do. Sleep off whatever the fuck this is and go make it right.”

I wake up to a blistering headache and continuous pounding at my door. Shit, I guess I fell asleep on the couch. Ignoring the swirls in my clouded my vision, I rise, rubbing the crust from my eyes as I head for whoever won’t stop fucking knocking.