**This is a couple pages shorter than what I normally write and that's because we're twiddling down to the end folks! Only one chapter left, and that's the epilogue. I intentionally left things amiss with Brock because I do plan on doing a short(ish) story for him! I hope you guys liked the chapter!**

Evan's POV

Laying in bed that night, multiple things were whirling around in my head from Tanner's confession to when the hell Scar and I were going to get married and where the hell it was going to happen. There was one thing I could stop worrying about, and that was getting moved into our new house. We got the majority of that done earlier today before we went to lunch because Scar hired a huge moving crew to help us get pretty much everything set up. The only rooms that were empty now were three bedrooms that Scar is oh so sure we'll fill with kids, and our single guest bedroom that we haven't picked the furniture out for quite yet.

"What's going on in that head of yours, pretty girl?" He murmured as he turned onto his side and hovered over my body. He smoothed out the wrinkles in my forehead with his thumb before kissing the skin and pulling back to look me in the eyes.

"The wedding, Tanner's sister, Brock." I hummed out.

"Brock?" He asked, utterly confused. I nodded before nuzzling into his embrace.

"Yeah. Ever since my dad's coma, he's been a totally different person. He doesn't laugh and joke around like he used to anymore. He was the only one in the family that was just...goofy all the time. He never took life too seriously and I'm afraid that the accident took all that away. I mean, it did a number on everyone in our family emotionally, but he was the only one who hasn't bounced back. My mom said he still isn't home often. I just don't know how to help him because I don't know what's going through his head." I explained through a sigh.

"I don't know, baby. Everyone copes with loss differently. I drank, you lashed out, your mother just slept. Maybe him bed hopping is his own way of coping." He tried reasoning.

"But my dad's been okay for a while now. Surely he's come to terms with the fact that my dad is fine already?" I questioned. He just shrugged his shoulders before kissing me soundly on the lips.

"You'll just have to try and sit him down and figure out what's going on with him." He said as I nodded in agreement.

"I was always the closest to him, surprisingly." I laughed. "Now that that issue is sorted out, onto the next one."

"And that would be...?" Scar drawled out, unsure as to where I was taking the conversation.

"Our wedding date, dumbass. And, apparently, it can't be anything between May and August." I said with an annoyed eye roll.

"October first." He rattled off. I raised a single eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

"What? You told me to pick a date and I did. October first. Take it or leave it." He stated with finality.

"You don't even know if that's a weekday or not!" I giggled back. I laughed even harder when he whipped out his phone and began tapping the screen rapidly.

"It's a Saturday. Perfect. October first it is." He grinned smugly.

"Fine. October first." I agreed. His smugness changing into bewilderment.

"Wait, you're actually going to keep that date?" He asked in amazement.

"I don't want to stress over this any longer and if we send out the invites as soon as possible, the people we want to come might actually be able to fly all the way to fucking Ireland just to appease your grandma." I snorted.

"Okay, now that that's figured out onto the next issue." He replied. Now it was my turn to be confused.

"And that issue would be...?" I asked.

"My head not being between your thighs." He teased with a mischievous smile before disappearing underneath the sheets.

**

Sitting in the little Italian bistro I knew Brock loved the next day, I waited patiently for him to show up. Checking the time on my phone, I noted that he was already twenty minutes late for when we said to meet. I took Scar's advice and reached out to him and offered to take him to lunch on me so that we could talk. Clearly, we see how well it's going already.

The waitress gave me a sympathetic look when passing for the third time to fill my water glass. She probably thought I was waiting for a guy to show up for a date. About fifteen minutes later, I was quietly seething with anger as I decided I was done waiting for him to show up. I threw my phone into my purse before searching for my keys, jerking things around as my anger only continued to grow.

"Hey! Sorry, I lost track of time!" Brock panted out before pulling his chair back with a loud screech and plopping down. I glared at him less than impressed as he took a few large gulps of his water.

It was very clear to me the reason why he "lost track of time". His hair was a disheveled mess, his shirt was inside out, the zipper on his pants was down, and he had dark bags under his eyes telling me that he hadn't slept much last night.

"If fucking some random chick last night and into the morning was more important than having a proper meal with your sister for the first time in a few months then you could've just said so. I heard you loud and clear." I gritted out before attempting to stand and storm out. Unfortunately, I was stopped in my tracks when he gripped my arm and pulled me back down, a guilty look on his face. Good, he should feel bad.

"It's not more important and you know that." He said, pleading me with his eyes to forgive him. It was the same look he used on our mom whenever he wanted to get out of some grounding he rightfully got.

"The look isn't going to work on me. I'm not mom. I won't continue to give you chance after chance to fix your fucking attitude. This is exactly the reason I wanted to talk today, actually." I explained before seeing the waitress begin the approach our table from my peripheral.

"Hi folks, are you ready to order or would you like another minute?" The young waitress asked.

"We'll just take two plates of the traditional spaghetti bolognese and a side of garlic bread, thanks." Brock said before shooting the girl a cocky smirk and wink. Her cheeks blushed instantly as she giggled and nodded before collecting our menus and stumbling off.

"Really?" I deadpanned. He must not have realized he even did what he just did because his eyes widened and his hands shot up in surrender.

"I swear I didn't mean to." He admitted before leaning back in his seat and getting more comfortable.

"What's been going on with you lately, Brock? You haven't been the same since everything with dad happened." I said, my tone softening significantly - he was my baby brother after all.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He responded evasively, his tone going cold with his words as he crossed his arms and closed himself off to me. This was a total change from his demeanor just mere seconds ago.

"This! This is exactly what I'm talking about! Whenever someone expresses concern for you, you push them away and become a huge asshole. Mom said you still haven't been spending the majority of your nights at home and it's starting to worry her. It's starting to worry me." I rasped out. He just shrugged his shoulders while ignoring the question.

"I can't help you if I don't know what's going on? Please, just tell me." I begged, wanting to get my goofy, frivolous brother back.

"There's nothing wrong!" He spat back, his voice raising a single octave and drawing the attention of some nosey patrons around us. "Just drop it, Evan. I mean it." He warned before putting on a fake smile for the waitress as she speedily brought out our plates of food for us. I mumbled a barely audible thank you to her before watching Brock intently as he dug into his plate of food as I left mine untouched.

"So what's the plan for the wedding? Dad said something about having to travel to another country." He inquired around a mouthful of food. I refrained from chastising him for the impolite behavior because I knew it would just piss him off and he would leave. I heaved a sigh and surrendered to the fact that he wasn't going to speak a single word about what was going on in that brain of his.

"Yeah. Ireland. We were thinking about just having the ceremony there and then having the reception back here at our new house like Scar originally wanted, but when we proposed the idea to his grandmother she was adamant that we do the entire thing over there. Apparently, they're fucking loaded and are paying for everyone to fly out on Friday, and lodge them all until Sunday when everyone will leave. We're planning on having the ceremony early in the afternoon on Saturday and then starting the reception at dinner time. I'm just kind of annoyed with the whole situation because I don't really have a say in my own wedding because all of the planning is being done by one of Scar's cousins who owns a wedding planning business over there." I rambled off.

"Then why don't you tell the old hag to stuff it and that you're having the damn thing here and if she doesn't like it then don't come?" He asked, getting visibly angry at the situation just as I had when I first thought about it all.

"I would, but it's the only family he has left. His dad died because of me and I don't want to shut them out of his life - even if they weren't there for him while growing up for whatever reason. Besides, this may not be my idea of a perfect wedding but I've always wanted to go see Ireland. It's beautiful there, so at least I know the pictures will turn out great." I joked, trying to lighten the mood. He laughed before agreeing with me and finishing off his pasta.

"Did you even fucking taste it?" I joked as I still had half of my plate left. He threw one of the pieces of garlic bread at my head before it plonked back onto my plate. We both giggled our heads off as those around us looked on as if we were crazy. We probably were.

My stomach ached as I couldn't cease my laughter. When did all of this change?