Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Neil was sitting in the “monsters’” living room, which was technically his now that he’d switched dorms with Aaron. However, said twin was still occupying one of two bean bags on the floor in front of the couch and playing a violent video game with Nicky. They were both whooping loudly as they supposedly kicked some CGI ass. Neil didn’t care too much for any of their games, as he’d seen enough real violence to last him a lifetime, but he didn’t mind the background noise. After all, he’d grown up in suffocating silence and fear of being noticed. It was nice to embrace noise and happy chaos.

Neil felt excited for a very different reason. His head was currently lying in Andrew Minyard’s lap, a very dangerous place for anyone’s but Neil’s body parts to be. Andrew was sitting calmly in his normal spot while Neil’s legs were sprawled in this opposite direction. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift, knowing he was safe. No one was after him. No one would get to him. He felt a hand card through his hair and stiffened before relaxing into it and humming. He felt like a cat purring, which would’ve been vaguely embarrassing, but he didn’t care as his mind finally drifted all the way out of consciousness. 

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He’d woken up that morning to soaked bed sheets and the feeling of claustrophobia, panic, and lingering hands touching his skin that he recognized from his time being kidnapped and transported in the back of a police car, unable to see, move, or breathe knowing he had mere hours left to live. When he’d pulled himself together enough to wander into the kitchen for a late breakfast, he’d been caught off guard finding both of the Minyard twins sitting side by side eating oatmeal. One was scowling into his meal, topped with sliced almonds and fruit. The other looked completely apathetic as he mixed a sobering amount of Nutella into his bowl. 

Aaron spent almost all of his summer free time with his girlfriend Katelyn, but Neil belatedly remembered hearing something about the Vixens taking a team beach trip up to the Outer Banks one weekend. Apparently, it was that weekend. After a few seconds of watching the ‘twinyards’ bond in hostile, but not quite hostile, silence, he made his presence known. 

“Morning,” his voice was simply scratchy from disuse, but he couldn’t help but be reminded of how hoarse his voice had sounded after screaming when Lola had burned his cheek. The memory made it twinge painfully, but his face remained passive. Aaron just grunted at him, and he felt Andrew’s eyes track him as he made his way to the fridge to open it and look around. The cool air felt amazing across his cheeks which he hadn’t realized had felt hot and feverish. He lingered a minute before closing the door and simply grabbing a ripe banana off the counter. 

He leaned against the counter casually, but he could feel his shoulders trying to tense and the first bite felt like cement in his mouth. He swallowed quickly, then threw the uneaten piece of fruit away, the sight of it suddenly making him nauseous. Andrew said nothing, but he still felt his eyes on his back, so he turned around, “Too sweet,” he offered. Andrew squinted and Aaron rolled his eyes. “Way to waste perfectly good food, Josten.” Neil hadn’t bothered acknowledging him. 

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They were at an extra summer afternoon practice lead by Kevin. Somehow he’d managed to drag both Aaron and Nicky along as well since they “had nothing better to do.” Nicky had complained otherwise, but he admitted that Erik had to cancel their weekly saturday facetime because of his job. He smiled his normal goofy smile and made a joke about his man ‘bringing home the bacon’, but Neil could see the disappointment and homesickness in his eyes. And he didn’t know whether it was a coincidence, but Kevin’s insistence on everyone going to the Court together was a nice distraction for Aaron and Nicky, both of whom were missing their significant others. 

Neil watched his own...well, he watched Andrew from across the field. He could tell Andrew was in a good mood by the way he actually lifted his racquet to defend the goal and acknowledged others besides Neil, even if non verbally most of the time. He watched as Kevin took a blindingly fast and tricky shot at the opposite corner of the goal and how against all odds, Andrew blocked it, having the audacity to yawn afterwards. Kevin’s face was a work of art as it warred between raw fury and pure joy at Andrew blocking him like it was nothing. Neil himself started to grin, but suddenly he felt a stabbing pain in his cheek and winced, pretending to adjust his helmet to hide it. When it didn’t stop, if anything becoming an increasingly uncomfortable burning sensation, he knelt down to pretend to tie his shoelaces. He subtly applied pressure to his stomach in an attempt to quell the nausea that accompanied the pain and came to him unbidden. 

And all of a sudden it was hot, too hot. He was sweating, the flames flushed his cheeks like the bonfire on the beach where he’d burned his mother, the only human connection he’d had left in the world. “She’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead,” his own desperate pain wracked voice echoed in his ears, and then the pain was from a cigarette lighter, and it was everywhere, and it filled his ears with its burning, he felt his vision going red, no that was the orange of his own jersey, he realized he was all the way keeled over now, knee pads digging into the grass, hands clenching at the ground, they were cuffed behind his back, “don’t” his own voice begged, he couldn’t move, but he could, he was on a field, but he was in the cadillac, and Lola was laughing in his ear as she sliced the soft skin on his hands, and hands, and a hand was on his neck, it was cool. It was...cool? 

He leaned back into the cool sensation, searching for relief, his head tilted back and he realized his helmet wasn’t on him anymore. He hadn’t taken it off himself, how could he have when his hands were being…..He opened his eyes and looked down. There were raised scars, but no fresh wounds, no blood, they stung, but he could move all his fingers. Pale hands gently grabbed his left hand and placed it to more cool skin. It felt good. Neil’s eyes focused and followed the trail of his own arm to Andrew’s neck. He could feel Andrew’s pulse thundering, though his hands moved steadily. “Count,” Andrew commanded. Neil tried to count to the beat of Andrew’s pulse in his head, and after a minute his own breathing seemed to calm a bit. The burning in his cheek dulled enough for him to fully concentrate on where he was. One of Andrew’s hands was holding the back of Neil’s neck and the other was pressing Neil’s palm to his pulsepoint. Andrew’s own helmet was gone and Neil looked up to look at his face which betrayed nothing. But his eyes were intense and searching. They scoured Neil’s face, no doubt looking for the source of his pain. 

Neil sighed wearily. Had that been a panic attack? Sure he’d had flashbacks, but the pain was real. It wasn’t just in his head, he could feel it in his body too. His ruined skin remembered just as well as his tired mind. “Are you with me, Neil?” he considered for a moment, then nodded, “Yeah, I’m fi-” he cut off abruptly when his attempt to form words pulled his cheeks in a way that sent pain shooting back through him, causing him to flinch again. Andrew tightened his hold on him. “Hurts….talking…..my scars….hurt” Neil pushed out in explanation. He looked back up trying to convey his own frustration and confusion through his eyes. Andrew nodded, not speaking himself for a moment. 

Andrew pulled him off the ground. Nobody else said anything. He silently thanked Andrew’s fiercely protective aura for that. Neil nodded in Nicky’s direction, trying to be assuring and  knowing he would be the most distraught by Neil’s episode of...whatever it had been. He just looked at Kevin who nodded back and went to go collect his helmet and racket from the field where they’d been scattered. It seemed like even Kevin could tell that the time for practicing Exy was over. And then, Aaron of all people, spoke up.

“What happened?”

It was Andrew who replied coolly to his brother, “He’s not talking right now.”

“But why?” Aaron responded just as coolly.

Neil braced himself to speak again, “My scars,” was all he croaked. Aaron just nodded and Neil couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He was too tired to bother. The lack of an argument ensuing was enough for Andrew to drag him straight to the car. Neil might’ve joked about getting the Maserati sweaty and gross, but he was focusing on breathing. Andrew turned the air conditioning all the way up to freezing. He started the car, just the two of them inside. Neil wondered how the others would get back to Fox Tower. He met Andrew’s eyes, then scrunched his eyebrows slightly, glancing back at the stadium. Andrew shook his head, “Matt.” 

Sure enough, an indeterminable amount of time later as they pulled onto the two way road that led straight to Fox Tower, they passed Matt’s truck going in the opposite direction, presumably to gather the others. Neil was now feeling alert enough to feel guilty for roping Matt into his issues once again and ruining his afternoon. Matt had to pack to catch his flight out of South Carolina for the summer early tomorrow morning. This was his last afternoon with Dan before they parted ways for a bit. He frowned as much as he dared at the thought. On cue, as if he’d confessed his guilt aloud, Andrew responded, “Shut up.” Neil raised his eyebrows. “No one likes a martyr, Josten, Boyd will be fine.” Neil huffed. If it weren’t for his fear of sparking another bout of pain in his scar tissue he would’ve responded with something stupid, sarcastic, suicidal, or all three. Apparently that fact was written all over his face because Andrew parked the car, undid Neil’s seat belt for him, and said, “300%.” 

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When Neil woke up, he wasn’t quite sure where he was. It came to him in bits. The light outside had turned from the rich blue of a late summer evening to night time dark. He felt something under his head that wasn’t his pillow. He realized with a small shock that it was Andrew’s thigh. A hand rested lightly on the side of his neck. The TV screen was dark and cold, and there were no fresh imprints on the bean bag chairs. There were long empty beer bottles on the floor and smooshed pieces of popcorn, the only evidence that Aaron and Nicky had really been there earlier.

He wanted to know what time it was, but all he asked, not moving, was, “How long have you stayed up?” Andrew took a moment to respond, probably thinking about his answer in the way he always did, thoughtful, not apathetic like everyone else believed. “As long as I needed to.” Neil slowly shifted his aching body into a sitting position, and Andrew made no move to stop him, just watching quietly in the dark of the now empty living room. 

Neil slowly cataloged his body. He cautiously reached up to touch the burn scars on his cheek. Nothing. He felt nothing. Just like normal. No burning, no cool, just dead, empty nerves. That in itself had been jarring the first time he’d touched his freshly healed scar tissue, but he’d gotten used to it. He hadn’t experienced the kind of burning sensation he’d felt earlier since….since Baltimore.

“You should get some rest,” he said. Then hypocritically, despite just waking up from a long nap, Neil yawned. Andrew looked at him pointedly. “I’ll come too,” Neil shrugged. And that’s how they both ended up back on Neil’s bottom bunk well past midnight. He let Andrew sleep in his preferred spot with his back to the wall and Neil star-fished on his back as much as he could on the twin bed, letting their feet touch slightly under the covers. Andrew wore socks to bed because he was always cold, which Neil thought was Chaotic Evil, but he’d come to find it endearing. And with that comforting and inane thought, he drifted to sleep once more. 

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The next morning he woke up late again, but he’d been too tired to dream, much less have another nightmare, so he couldn’t complain. Neil was alone in the room. Kevin was spending the rest of the weekend with Coach, making up for lost time getting to know each other. Nicky had been talking about going over and using Abby’s kitchen to cook them some “Real Mexican” dishes, and if Neil had to guess, Andrew was on the roof smoking and enjoying the quietness of Fox Tower now that most of the athletes were gone or about to leave for the summer. 

That left Neil alone with nothing to do. Normally, he’d jump at the chance to go for a long weekend  run across campus, but he was still physically drained from his episode or whatever it was. That’s why he was surprised to find Aaron Minyard in his kitchen for the second morning in a row. Alone. 

Neil glanced at all the exits in the dorm. He wasn’t scared of Aaron, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be alone in a room with him for any given amount of time. 

“What are you doing here?” Aaron’s natural scowl deepened, “Hello to you, too.” Neil just rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like Aaron ever worried about niceties and politeness when it came to Neil. After a beat of awkward silence, Aaron continued, “Andrew and I have an appointment with Dobson later,” he barely glared at Neil for causing that, “I was looking for him.” 

Neil guessed now that the regular school schedule was over, Aaron and Andrew might have to find a new rhythm for continuing therapy, but he was surprised and pleased that they were. 

“Well he’s not here,” Neil stated.

 “Obviously,” Aaron rolled his own eyes. 

He paused for a second as if deliberating something. Neil stood still as Aaron looked at him with something annoyed and nervous and searching all at once. 

“You really lost your shit at practice yesterday.” 

Neil refused to feel like he should apologize to Aaron of all people. “As if you cared about how it went,” Neil retorted. 

“That’s not..how often do your scars hurt?” And that was a question Neil hadn’t been expecting. 

“Umm, I don’t know...sometimes they twinge, but yesterday was the first time it’s ever been that….” he trailed off, then blushed, “Why do you care?”

Aaron scoffed, “You really are an idiot. It’s not like I’m a pre-med student or anything.” 

He pulled something out of his pocket and chucked it at Neil. Luckily for him, his reflexes let him catch it before it hit him in the forehead. He studied the projectile slowly. It looked kind of like a makeup tin for one of the various creams and foundations Allison used to cover his face after he went to Evermore. He read the label, then looked up at Aaron in surprise. 

“While there’s no doubt you’re fucked in the head, I thought that some of your symptoms probably have a medical cure. The cigarette lighter…” Aaron looked more solemn and human than Neil had ever seen him, “well it fucked up the nerve endings in your face, so now you may experience phantom pains where your body can’t feel anything there anymore and is sending pain signals to your brain instead to tell it something’s wrong. That cream should help soften your scar tissue so it puts less pressure on the nerve endings in your cheek.”

Neil just stared at him in shock. Aaron had never said so many words to him at once, and in a semi-civil tone no less. Also, while he was sure Aaron just gave him the dumbed down version of whatever he was experiencing with the pain in his scars, he was taken aback by how full of life Aaron seemed when he talked about medical stuff. It was the same look in his eyes he got when he was around Katelyn. 

Aaron fidgeted, “But if you don’t want it, Josten, you can give it the fuck back.”

Neil turned the tin over in his hands considering, “Where did you get it?”

Aaron scowled, “I shadow and volunteer at the university hospital.” 

And in that moment, Neil realized just how little he knew about Aaron. Here was the mirror image of the person he trusted more than anything in the world, and he didn’t understand a damn thing about him and had barely tried. He hadn’t known Aaron worked at the hospital in his spare time. He hadn’t really ever thought of Aaron having a life outside of their interactions. 

He ran his hand over the smooth lid, the opposite of the jagged back of the keys Andrew had once given him, yet it still humanized the boy in front of him. The boy who was glowering, 

“Not that you’d know that, too busy doing nasty shit with my brother and putting us all in constant danger,” Aaron spit as he spun around to leave.

 “Aaron,” Neil looked up, and Aaron paused by the door.

 “Thank you,” Neil said as sincerely as he could. 

Aaron looked at him for one second, let his shoulders drop, then muttered, “Whatever, I’ll wait for Andrew outside.” 

He slammed the door leaving Neil wondering just how many forms an olive branch could take. 

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Neil and Aaron would never be friends. But they had a lot in common. First, a significant relationship to Andrew. But they also had more in common than they wanted. Both of them had been abused by mothers they’d loved as much as they’d hated, and would have to spend the rest of their lives coming to terms with their deaths and abuse. Aaron was still homphobic. Neil still thought Aaron could stand to grow a spine. Having similarly shitty childhoods and living in proximity to someone does not a friendship make.

But if Neil’s scars had become softer and less irritating over the summer, Aaron nodded to Neil when they crossed paths on campus, Neil had started running past the university hospital to see what it looked like, and Aaron kept his snark to a minimum when Neil pulled rank as vice-captain, no one was going to complain, least of all Neil. 

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It was right after the first game of the new season. They had just won by a comfortable margin, but the old Foxes had played better than ever, their first time back on the court since winning the championships. And while they’d had to compensate for the new freshman rookies and adjust to the new team dynamics and a summer mostly off, they’d given it their all. The opposing team’s strikers had been brutal and vicious, but for once, the defense held its own. Neil didn’t have to ask Andrew to carry them to victory, and he and Kevin got to focus on scoring an impressive amount of points between them before they were subbed out. 

When Nicky went in to hug Neil, he returned it and smiled. His grin pulled at his cheeks, but there was no surge of pain. Once Nicky released him, Neil turned towards Aaron who was hanging back a bit awkwardly, obviously anxious to get to Katelyn as soon as possible. “Good job tonight,” Neil complimented him, “You held your own this time.”

 Aaron flushed a little but nodded. “And you didn’t have a panic attack or almost die on the court, congratulations, Josten.”

Neil just laughed, and even Aaron’s default scowl looked somewhat amused. 

“Do my eyes deceive me! Did Neil and Aaron just share a moment! Neil, buddy, you gotta let me in on this Minyard taming ability of yours!” Nicky chipped in unhelpfully, sending him and Aaron to bickering between themselves. 

Neil just turned around to Andrew, who was a shadow at his side, curious to see how he would react. Andrew just looked at him with something deep and smoldering and intense in his eyes. He discreetly grabbed Neil’s hand and squeezed the space between his thumb and forefinger before letting go and stepping back. 

“1,000%,” he muttered before heading to the locker room to change out.

Chapter Text

It was September, the air was cool and refreshing, the leaves were beginning to match the foxes’ orange jerseys, and everything was going swimmingly for on Aaron Minyard, backliner. He was knocking out credits for his biochemistry major, dating the girl of his dreams, and even having “conversations” with his brother that didn’t make him want to punch a wall. Really, he had no complaints. Maybe that was why he was feeling charitable enough to acknowledge Josten when he barked out orders at practice that afternoon. 

At first he’d been surprised and annoyed that Wymack had promoted Neil of all people to vice-captaincy, but he guessed he should have seen it coming. Kevin had been training Josten to be his mini-me since day one, so of course Josten had learned how to throw out critiques and rebukes like a pro. There were brief moments when he looked at Neil assuming his mantle of leadership and saw Kevin. Despite his different coloring and missing foot of height, he held himself with the same confidence that the other striker  faked in front of cameras. But then he saw the burn scars masking what used to be a number four and was viscerally reminded that Josten was his own kind of animal. 

Aaron didn’t make a habit of looking at Neil’s scars. Months had passed, yet he still felt like throwing up every time he remembered the sound of Neil’s strained voice saying, “ Zigarettenanzünder .” The only time Aaron had let his eyes linger was the month after spontaneously gifting Neil with a cream for his scars. He’d noted it had looked less inflamed and irritated, then went right back to ignoring Josten. 

The scars themselves didn’t bother him. After all, he was training to become a doctor, and he had a strong stomach after a summer spent shadowing in the ER. The problem was that they were Josten’s scars: the boy he resented and hated for meddling in his life and seducing his brother and generally being a nuisance. And maybe the scars humanized Neil and made Aaron forget his own hostility, and maybe he didn’t like to admit that these days he only “hated” Neil out of habit. 

Right now, said scars were indistinguishable as the foxes scrimmaged. Things were tense on court. They’d barely scraped out a win during their last game, and the integration of the freshman was still proving to be a challenge. Dan, Neil, and Kevin were carrying the brunt of the stress for their collective weakness and pushing everyone around them harder than ever, to the point of provocation. Even his happy-go-lucky cousin looked like he was getting frustrated over the general atmosphere. Andrew, as usual, said nothing to his teammates on the court, but Aaron had grown better at watching his twin. 

He no longer looked at him like a mirror with his own personal tells, and he’d grown better at reading Andrew’s body language. Right now, he was standing at ease, but he could tell his brother was tense and had his eyes locked on the middle of the court. Aaron followed his gaze to see Neil and Jack arguing. Hardly anything new. Aaron rolled his eyes. He might hate Neil Josten most of the time, but he detested Jack 24/7 along with most of the other foxes. 

It wasn’t until they migrated closer to their side of the court that Aaron could make out the words being flung through the air like shrapnel. Not surprisingly, it seemed like it was Jack who was instigating, with Neil responding in silence or clipped responses. 

“Hey, Nathaniel, how does it feel to know your racket is more effective as a murder weapon than it is in your hands on a court?”

Neil simply threw the ball to the little shit harder than necessary while Aaron fought against his own full body flinch. 

For a second, time slowed down and his brain filled with red and blood and brains and Drake crumpling and his brother’s sick laugh. He felt nauseous once he came back to himself. He’d been working with Katelyn on ways to ground himself when he felt like a flashback or episode of dissociation might be coming on. As much as he scoffed against the label of ‘PTSD’, there’s no way a college kid can  kill another human and walk away completely unaffected, so he’d begrudgingly let Katelyn play therapist and recalled her head in his voice telling him to count to ten, feel out parts of his body slowly, observe his surroundings, breathe deeply, and try to acknowledge his own racing thoughts without judgement. All of this happened in under 30 seconds, but was enough for Jack to try for a more satisfying response from Josten. 

“Cat got your tongue, Wesninski?”

Stony silence.

“Or did your butcher father cut it out of you?”

Stonier silence.

“I wonder what parts he sliced off underneath that jersey? If you’ve come clean, why do you still hide in the showers after everyone else changes?”

“Why don’t you focus on playing exy,” Neil called out before adding “ connard ” under his breath loud enough for the nearby defenders to hear. Aaron almost laughed. He didn’t know much French, but even he knew how to call someone an asshole in multiple languages. 

Speaking French was just another reason Jack hated Neil so much. It was something that bonded Neil and Kevin, and Jack was nothing if not an envious bastard. Aaron thought it would take less time for him to sit down and teach himself the language than try to goad Neil into breaking, yet here he was, still trying gallantly. 

“Are you more ashamed of what your daddy cut out of you, or what your mommy beat into you?”

At that Neil stalled. So did Aaron’s brain. Just like before, it flooded him with unwanted memories of his own mother with her insults and heavy fists and fingers bruising his arm as she yanked him one way or another. He thought of black eyes and stifled cries that turned into nights quietly drinking away the pain, then eventually nights where he used a needle to do the job. 

Jack smirked, delighted to finally hit a nerve, even as multiple Foxes started yelling at him, coming to Neil’s defense, but it was all white noise to Aaron whose vision was filled with Tilda Minyard. All he could see were her wine stained lips screaming at him and Jack’s lips moving in a similarly cruel pattern. 

“So I’m right, huh? You’ve always been a useless punching bag-”

And suddenly those cruel lips were spitting out blood as Jack landed on his ass on the court, eyes wide in shock. Aaron was confused for mere seconds before he felt an ache in his fist, then looked down to find it clenched and red. 

Oh. I did this , he thought vaguely, his body coming back to him as the white noise around him turned back into distinguishable voices. He shook out his hand, already swelling and smarting, and thought wryly, Well, Katelyn, there’s one way to stop dissociating . 

He finally tuned in to the foxes’ reactions around him. Nicky was laughingly gleefully, saying, “Talk shit, get hit!” in German, Kevin was sighing in disappointment, though Aaron didn’t think it was directed at him, Renee was calm, Dan looked conflicted, Matt looked grimly satisfied, Allison said, “that’ll leave a nice mark.” 

Sheena was the only one on the team who gave an offended squawk, while even Wymack looked unsympathetic.  Andrew approached, looked down at Jack apathetically, looked at Aaron’s hand presumably to make sure it wasn’t broken, and said, “About time,” before turning around and walking to stand beside Neil who just stared at Aaron with an inscrutable gaze. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

“I can fight my own battles.”

Aaron’s eyes drifted to the scars littering Neil’s cheeks and he raised an eyebrow.

“Not everything is about you, Josten,” he muttered. Sometimes people have gone through the same battles , he thought. 

Neil nodded slowly, then looked down at Jack stoically. The boy was crawling to his feet nursing a split lip and bloody nose. He was sputtering and muttering obscenities under his breath, glaring between Neil and Aaron, unsure which one to focus his ire on. 

For a second, Aaron felt proud of the damage his single right hook had inflicted before he remembered the damage he’d inflicted on Drake and the damage his mother had inflicted on him. Suddenly, the sight of his own violence made him want to puke, so he tried focusing on a slightly less nausea inducing subject: Neil. 

Neil took off his orange bandanna and handed it over to Jack with a cold, condescending stare, “for the blood.” Unsurprisingly, Jack scoffed, and swatted his hand away, but Neil caught it and used the opportunity to shove the bandanna to his chest, stepping up so they were only a hair’s width apart. “No, really, I insist,” Neil gritted out, an inch from Jack’s face. He positioned his lips right next to a frozen jack’s ear and the voice that came out did not belong to Neil Josten.

“Next time, I’ll be the one to put you in your place, and you won’t get off nearly as easily.” 

With that, Neil or the dead eyed killer who stood in his body, shoved Jack back from him. Aaron noticed a chill roll through him as Nathaniel’s eyes found his. Aaron never thought he’d see the day, but when Nathaniel’s eyes found his they softened, and he became stupid stubborn jock, Neil Josten once more.

“Nice right hook. Make sure to ice that,” he gestured towards Aaron’s hands.

“Obviously! I’m a pre-med student for fuck’s sake-” Neil smirked and Aaron realized he’d been played. The foxes nearby let out some nervous chuckles, and with that the nervous tension in the air faded. Jack stalked off the court, Sheena by his side, and nobody stopped them or gave them a second glance. 

It was Dan that got things back on track. “Okay, everyone, that’s enough excitement for today! Get back in your positions.” As Aaron trekked back to resume his spot near the goal, his eyes met Andrew’s. Using his fists to serve justice, feeling violence so fierce and deep inside him it scared him, and protecting someone he loved didn’t hate...

Maybe, just maybe , Aaron thought, the Minyards were even more alike than they looked.