I glance his way. His driving is fast and decisive, despite the crusted blood gluing his eyes shut and the swollen bruises I can already see forming high on his cheekbones. I did that to him. I hurt him.
I’m not my brother’s keeper, apparently; I’m my brother’s would-be murderer.
“It’s going to be okay, you know,” Nikolai says, tossing me a concerned glance as we whip around a corner. “We’ll get there in time.”
I wince. He doesn’t even sound angry anymore. Somehow, that’s so much worse. I’d know what to do with his anger: take it. His sympathy, on the other hand, is a complete mystery. “Nikolai…”
“Don’t,” he says firmly. “You can apologize to me later. After you’ve found Alyssa and sorted out your s**t with her.”
I sigh. “You’re a better man than I am.”
Nikolai snorts. “Stop feeling
