Ty is, predictably, late for dinner, but I'm actually glad to get some time alone with my middle brother. He's friendly and outgoing like Ty, only Thatcher is an artist. He's got his own glass studio just north of the city, and he's making a pretty good name for himself in the art world. From what I understand, he's also making good on his goal to screw every single woman in the city. Or at least all the ones who will swoon for his long hair and hipster beard.
Thatcher and I snag a booth in a dark corner and order drinks while we wait for Ty. Thatcher can always tell when something's off with me, and right away he says, "What's got you all messed up, bro? You look like you're about to lose in court."
I exhale, trying to decide how much to tell him. But this is more than a week I've bee
