Rory squeezed his shoulder hard. “Come on, A.”
Was Jamie right? Had he been working himself to the bone for years, forgoing any kind of true happiness, like some pathetic martyr? It was a fact that no matter how hard Andrew worked, he never felt satisfied. Never felt like he’d done enough. Every time he laid a finger on Jiya, the moment seemed almost stolen. Unearned. And maybe that was because he hadn’t forgiven himself over his actions from the night he ended his father’s life. Was it time to forgive himself now? Could he let himself be happy?
Andrew looked his brothers in the eye in turn.
He loved them both so much, his chest ached. They loved him back, too. Had confidence in him. They believed he was better than what he’d done. That truth was right there on their faces.
“I want to do something for those families. I don’t know what yet…”
“Done,” Jamie said, nodding. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Rory made a sound of agreement. “Say the word and I’ll tell you my plan.”
Jamie reared back. “How come Rory gets to mastermind the plan? I’m the family genius.”
Andrew broke off a groan. “Look at me. Turning my brothers into criminals now.”
Rory raised an eyebrow. “You did not just say that with a straight face.”
Andrew waded silently through his guilt for another moment, before finally stepping out of it. Onto the shore. The lightness he experienced was almost unbearable and he only wanted one thing. One person. Wanted her in his arms so badly, he ached. But he had a little more work to do first. Just a little while longer, sweetheart.
“Let’s end this.” he rasped, finally.
*
Confronting Handler in the parking lot of his precinct was a deliberate move by the Prince brothers. Rory and Jamie had been unaware of Handler showing up at their house until Andrew told them. After Rory stopped threatening to kick his ass for being secretive, they solidified their plan. Putting it together had taken the whole afternoon and some of the evening, but they’d all agreed securing Andrew’s exit from Handler’s trap couldn’t wait.
They weren’t out of the woods yet, but having a plan, some kind of control over his life, turned the fear Andrew had been feeling for weeks into determination. And a pretty big helping of anger. Yeah, he’d gone through so many stages of grief since he’d been approached by the cop, but he was damn well skipping acceptance.
When Handler whistled into the parking lot with a cup of coffee in hand, he stopped short at finding the brothers leaning against his unmarked car. Figuring out which car belonged to Handler wasn’t difficult. The man had been following Andrew all summer and he’d memorized the license plate number early on.
“Are you out of your fucking mind coming here?”
“What?” Andrew did a mock double take. “You don’t like people showing up where you work? Imagine that.”
Handler bared his teeth and stomped to the closest garbage can, throwing his disposable coffee cup through the opening before marching back toward them. Getting right up in Andrew’s face. To Andrew’s right, Rory coiled like a snake, ready to strike, but Andrew barred him from moving with an arm across the chest.
Handler laughed. “Come on, punk,” Handler sneered at Rory. “Take a swing. I dare you.”
“He’d love that, Rory,” Jamie said evenly. “But I think we can do better than a black eye, don’t you? He’s ugly enough already.”
Handler snorted, whipping his attention to Jamie. “Fuck you—”
“I’d back up a little,” Jamie interrupted, flicking a glance over Handler’s shoulder. “My husband is across the street and he’s having a really hard time being left out.”
Everyone turned to look at Marcus where he paced like a caged lion on the sidewalk in front of an auto parts store. When Marcus noticed he was the focus of attention, he lifted the front of his T-shirt and made his pecs dance.
“What can I say?” Jamie sighed. “He’s crazy and I love it.”
Handler turned back, red faced. “Why the hell are you here?”
Andrew pushed off the car and straightened, forcing Handler to back up a step. He’d never taken the time to notice he was taller than the cop. That the man had deep grooves on the sides of his mouth, his eyes, that were highlighted now by the yellow street lights. He looked bitter and unhappy, reminding Andrew a lot of his father. Andrew was all too aware that he could have ended up like this. If he didn’t have people who loved him. His brothers. His Jiya.
If he didn’t have hope.
But he did. He had hope now because he’d learned to place trust in those who deserved it. Since his father’s death, he’d been carrying the burden of guilt, along with everything else. Finances, household responsibilities, two jobs. To an extent, he loved being the one who organized and executed. The brother that could always be depended on. But he was going to carry his responsibilities for the right reasons again, like he had as a younger man. Not because of guilt, but because he loved seeing his family happy and secure. Their acceptance of his mistakes and refusal to let him face the consequences alone made him confident in being loved, an important part of the Prince family, more than he ever had before.