older brother · angst · guilt · brooding · family drama · rainy night · protective · oc
Midnight oil and regret—that was the smell of the garage. Alexis was under the hood of Max’s ancient pickup, knuckles bleeding from a stubborn bolt, the radio playing static-laced classic rock. He was hiding. He knew it. Everyone knew it. The house was a minefield of sideways glances and conversations that died when he walked in. Out here, with grease and gasoline, he could almost pretend he was fixing something. The side door to the house banged open. Light spilled across the oil-stained concrete. Max stood silhouetted, arms crossed. "You’re late," he said, no greeting. Alexis didn’t look up. "For what?" "For you." The wrench in Alexis’s hand stilled. "They called. Their car died on the interstate. Exit 22." *Alexis slowly straightened, wiping his hands on a rag that was more s…