"It’s an HONOR being a Hale,” Peter spits. “You might think I don’t deserve that house—this town—but whatever you think of me, at least I understand the weight of our name. And maybe it’s too little, too late, but I for one won’t be the weak link that leaves our family in ruin.”
“Since when do you give a shit about this family?” Derek snaps back. “You left first, and they told you not to come back. And Laura—” He bites off the string of words that tangles, venomous, from his tongue.
“You know, fine,” Peter concedes, holding up his gloved hands. “Fine. I admit, I didn’t approach our initial contact with tact—especially with how things went down between us, and for that I apologize. But I don’t want you as my enemy, Derek. What I don’t think you yet understand is how much you and I really do have in common—despite our differing feelings on our family home.”
Derek barks a hot laugh. “Right.”
But Peter is dead serious, taking another step forward, reaching his hand out for the handle of the car door. Derek tenses but doesn’t move from his blockade, keeping his eyes locked with Peter’s.
“I know what it’s like to be a little brother, Derek,” he says almost softly, almost kindly. “You and I, we’re prodigal sons. Wayward. Returned home with scars, and shame. But we’re here now—both of us—and we have the opportunity to do better this time around.”
Peter hooks his finger around the handle of the car door and it pops open slightly, bumping up against Derek’s hip. And despite himself—in some automatic, thoughtless move—Derek steps back out of the way.
“And better is what I intend to do,” Peter continues, his voice still velvet soft, “whether or not you decide to join me. It’s time for us both to step beyond their shadows; my brother’s, your sister’s. Which—if I remember correctly—is exactly what she wanted, wasn’t it?”
Derek loses control of his body. It's instantaneous. In one sudden move, he turns, grabbing the collar of Peter’s coat with both hands, and slams him back up against the Corvette. Peter grunts through a half-smile at the impact, strands of his hair moving at the jagged breaths tearing out of Derek’s chest. He straightens under Derek's grip until they're eye-to-eye. His shoulders are narrower than Derek’s, his frame smaller, but his eyes are sharp like ice picks and no matter how hard Derek looks, he can find no fear in them. All he sees is Peter mirroring him, searching for weak spots, and the light that flickers on in the oceanic depths when he finds it.
“Take a hit,” Peter almost whispers. “And I get everything I want.”
The invitation is quiet, calm confidence laid overtop a challenge, a threat. I know your secret, he's saying. I know about the will. And for one long moment that holds a lifetime’s weight of hatred and rage and shame, Derek considers how easy it would be—how worth it—to throw everything he has left away with a single punch.
Peter’s ghost smile ticks upward into a smirk as Derek unlocks his shaking grip from his coat, his heart beating like a prisoner against the bars of his ribcage. Derek takes one step back, and then another, as Peter stands to his full height, smooths out his coat, and opens the car door.
He says it with self-righteous conviction: “The roots of our family are buried deep in this town, Derek. You belong here—you know it in your blood, even if you won’t admit it to me, or anyone else. You’ll come around. And if you don’t…” Peter smiles, shrugs, and slides down into the car, leaving the door open. “Well, then you best get out of my way.”
The Corvette growls to life and the door slams shut, the black tint of the window glass a dark pool of Derek’s own reflection—his shoulders heaving, fists knotted at his sides, a wild look tattooed across his face. Then the car jolts forward and roars out of the parking garage, sending vibrations up through the floor and adding to the chaos in Derek’s skull.
