Silbie Luna just wanted to pass her classes and become the first undergrad co-captain for her derby team. She never thought shooting a promo for the athletic department would lead to a coveted role in a highly anticipated movie series. But not only...
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Tell Owen or not? That battle had gone on in Dante's head for days. On one hand, out of courtesy, Owen had a right to know Dante had made plans to attend Silbie's premier. On the other, her name had not been spoken since the day he'd showed her email to Owen, which pretty much said any subject concerning her was off limits.
However, he couldn't disappear without saying something, and knowing Owen, Dante couldn't be vague. He closed the folder and stacked it on the pile of papers waiting for his signature. He couldn't concentrate on work. Not with Owen upstairs brooding.
At least he wasn't drinking anymore. And giving him the park and movie projects seemed to help, but he was still struggling. Anger. Anxiety. Trust. Self-confidence. The list was long.
Nothing felt worse than the inability to help those Dante loved and cared about. He couldn't save Bea, and now—his brother. At the risk of his own sanity, Dante needed to let it go. Put some of Dr. Sequig's therapy babble to good use—we can only save ourselves. After Owen complained about his shrink sessions, Dante sometimes felt like he was the one on the couch. Not that psychoanalysis would hurt him. Like everyone else, he had issues. Wealth. Grief. Power.
Two of those weren't considered problems by most people. He laughed out loud as the quote from Spiderman popped into his head. With great power comes great responsibility. They needed to add an addendum—and great pain in your ass.
Screw it. No need tiptoeing around Owen. If he couldn't handle Dante going to Silbie's premier, so be it. He was done babying his brother. Dante couldn't help him if he couldn't help himself. Since Dad married Silbie's mom, the two families were blended and avoiding Silbie wasn't possible. Sooner or later, they'd cross paths, and he had to accept it. If not, holidays would be hell.
Not to mention the decision Dante'd made to sell Bea's house and build a new home on the land that joined Silbie's. That revelation might be enough to undo all of Owen's progress.
Dante pushed away from the desk and headed toward Owen's room ready to deliver the news. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, Owen's laughter stopped him in his tracks. He'd not heard him laugh like this in—he couldn't remember the last time.
He climbed a few more steps and listened again. Did Owen have a guest? Maybe he was on the phone. Taking the remaining rungs two at a time, Dante reached the bedroom door and eased it open.
Owen sat on the bed scrolling through pictures on his phone.
"What's so funny?"
"Silbie."
"She sent you pictures? How'd she get your number?"
Owen wiggled the phone in the air. "It's my old phone. The Army sent my personal things to Dad's address. He brought them over yesterday while you were gone. After my morning therapy session, I decided to go through them. Silbie kept emailing and sending photos even during my captivity."
