Six
It was an hour before Peter finally appeared, stepping off the elevator looking tired, but otherwise all right. Brannon had already headed downstairs to check in with the programming team, but Jason was still standing where he’d been since they’d come up, watching the gameplay screens with arms crossed, half lost in his thoughts. He didn’t even look over at the sound of the elevator, expecting Brannon, not his brother—and he wouldn’t have realized Peter had arrived if he hadn’t clapped him on the shoulder on his way to his office.
“C’mon,” Peter said quietly. “Let’s talk.”
There was something strange in Peter’s tone that sent ice sluicing down Jason’s spine, but he nodded and turned to follow. His brother crossed the room in a few quick strides, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, swinging his office door open and stepping inside.
That was when his demeanor changed. Peter’s stride slowed, though almost imperceptibly, and his shoulders slumped slightly. He collapsed not into his desk chair but the softer one in the corner of his office, the one where Jason had more than once found him asleep with a book or his VR headset still on, the game still running. Jason closed the door slowly behind them and locked it, watching as Peter tilted his head back and turned it to the side, staring out the window at the forest and fields beyond.
Jason’s mouth was dry as he opened it to speak, but Peter cut him off before he could.
“I watched the broadcast,” he said. “You were great.”
“You said I would be,” Jason murmured, sitting down on the couch along the wall next to the door, leaning forward and resting his elbows against his knees. “You knew I would be.”
Peter shrugged slightly. “I believed it, anyway, and I was right.”
Jason had to smile. “I’m glad you had that kind of faith in me.”
“I’d be a shit brother if I didn’t,” Peter said.
He lapsed into silence. Jason shifted slightly on the couch, unease starting to build. Was this all he wanted to talk about? How the broadcast went? The launch? “Peter—”
“Did it go well?”
Jason grimaced at the interruption, but quickly nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, everything according to plan, like clockwork. You were right—again. At some point, I think you’re going to get tired of that.”
“You’re probably right,” Peter said, then sighed. He scrubbed a hand over his face and finally met Jason’s gaze. “Greenbriar didn’t find anything. He asked if I was sleeping and I looked at him like he was crazy. I told him I was twenty-six and the company that I founded was launching new features to a game that I did lead design and programming on and how much sleep did he think I was getting? He told me it’s probably nothing and to get some more sleep.”
“That’s it?” Jason’s stomach knotted. It didn’t feel right, and the look of disgust on Peter’s face told him that his brother felt the same way.
“He gave me some anti-seizure meds and told me not to drive.” Peter’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t know, Jason. I want him to be right and this was just my fucked-up brain spazzing out because I’m not sleeping enough but I don’t know. What does it say about me that I think this is worse but want to be wrong? That I suspect I’m about to live through some kind of hell again?”
“I would say it’s an improvement,” Jason said quietly. “Last time this cropped up you were pretty sure you were going to die through that hell again.”
Peter winced but didn’t argue. That had been the way he’d acted the last time his neurological condition had flared up. “I guess there’s that,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. “I hope he’s right.”
“Trust but watch,” Jason said, his voice heavy. “Right?”
Peter nodded. “Trust but watch. Something we have a shit-ton of experience with.” He rubbed at his temple and sat up in his chair, looking at Jason squarely. “It really has been going well?” he asked quietly. “The launch, everything? You’re not just—”
“That is the last thing I’d lie about,” Jason said. “Unless something went sideways downstairs since Brannon left me up here, it’s been going well.” He glanced down for a second, then smiled. “I caught a glimpse of her while we were scrolling through feeds.”
Peter watched him, brow arching slightly. “Your Scarlet Dame?”
“Is that what you call her when I’m not around?”
One corner of Peter’s mouth lifted in a smile. “Well, that is who she is, Jason.”
“She’s more than that.”
“I know,” Peter said, still smiling. There was warmth there, brotherly teasing wrapped in concern and affection. “If I didn’t know better I’d guess maybe you were getting serious.”
“Maybe eventually,” Jason murmured, then smiled. “Right now she’s just someone I like talking to about anything that might or might not matter.” His cheeks were warm; he was probably blushing and found himself oddly unashamed to be doing it.
“What’s holding you back?” Peter asked, relaxing in his chair again. “There must be something.”
Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. She doesn’t know much about—well. She doesn’t know about this.”
“This being?”
Jason waved a hand at the room, hoping that the gesture explained everything. “You know, this.”
Peter’s brow arched. “You mean about the company? About where you fall in all of it?”
Jason nodded. “She has no idea. I never talk about any of this, not really, and when I do it’s always oblique. She knows I’m an artist and a writer but she doesn’t know what exactly I do or where I do it.”
“What about her?”
“What do you mean?”
“What does she do?”
“She’s a graphic designer,” Jason said. “Does a lot of work for advertising firms in her area and a bunch of pro bono work for charities and stuff.
“Sounds like you guys get each other on a pretty basic level.” Peter’s voice was quiet, gentle, thoughtful. Jason watched him for a few seconds, staring as his brother turned to look out the window again.
“What’s wrong, Peter?”
“All of this is for you guys,” he said softly. “For your futures.”
“And yours,” Jason said, forcing his heart out of his throat. “This is your future, too.”
The response took a second too long to come. “Yeah,” Peter said softly. “Yeah, it is.”
Then he stood up and grinned at his brother. “Well. You want to head in? I know you were waiting on me.”
Jason’s smile was bleak, reflecting the sudden pain that had wrapped around his heart and squeezed. “Am I that transparent?”
“Not transparent, just predictable,” Peter said, clapping him on the shoulder on his way to the door. “C’mon. We built something beautiful. Let’s enjoy it.”
“Right,” Jason said, standing and moving to follow. “Hey.”
Peter paused, glancing back, hand on the doorknob. “What?”
“Is tomorrow night still on?”
Peter grinned. “Nothing would stop me from making that happen, Jason. Nothing.”
He twisted the knob and stepped out of the office. Schooling his expression to hide any lingering traces of worry, Jason followed him.
It might be nothing—Dr. Greenbriar could be right. He’s been taking care of Peter for a long time. He must be right. It’s got to be nothing—at least this time, it’s nothing.
Still, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in his gut that something was starting to go very, very wrong and it had nothing to do with the game.
