Chapter 21: Two Tags

Beckett's POV

My brother and I sat on his kitchen floor at midnight, eating cold spaghetti out of the pot.

Neither of us had suggested the floor.

We'd both just ended up there.

"She told us to stand in the back," I said.

"She did."

"I hate the back."

"You've never been in the back," Rowan said. "You've been in the front of every room since you were three."

"That's why I hate it."

He twirled a fork and didn't eat.

Rowan had a swollen nose and a bruise along his jaw the shape of my glove.

The honest truth was that I loved him more than I had in years.

I wasn't going to say that.

"I could burn the Foundation down," I said instead. "Not literally."

"I know what you meant."

"If I resign my seat on the board, and you resign the chair, there's no donor. There's no conflict."

"There's no scholarship, either. Forty students lose their stipends."

I put the fork down.

"Then we don't resign," I said. "We just sit there."

"We sit there."

"And whatever she says in that hall, we say nothing."

"Nothing," Rowan agreed. His voice was grave. "She asked."

I looked at him, and he looked at me.

We had our father's jaw, both of us, and I had never noticed it before the fight.

"Rowan."

"Yes."

"If she loses, and she leaves, we don't fight over who comforts her."

"No."

"And if she wins, and she tells us to go..."

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