My mom, though, didn’t even hesitate.
She stormed down the steps, coffee mug still in hand, and snatched my phone out of mine.
“Lucas, what on earth is wrong with you? You’re going to ruin your brother’s weekend over a car?” she barked.
The way she said “a car” made it sound like I was throwing a tantrum over a toy.
I just stared at her, jaw clenched.
“It’s not just a car,” I said through gritted teeth. “It’s my car. He didn’t ask. He tried to take it.”
But of course, mom didn’t hear a word.
She turned to Aaron, her voice softening instantly, and cooed, “Sweetheart, don’t worry. Your brother’s just being dramatic again. You’ll still go.”
Then she glared back at me as if I was the criminal in this situation.
“You’re not calling the police. I’ll tell them it was a misunderstanding.”
She handed my phone back like she was granting me some mercy.
Aaron leaned out the window, smirk returning now that he knew he had backup.
“See, Mom gets it. You should try not being so selfish for once, Lucas.”
I could feel my pulse in my ears.
“Selfish?” I repeated. “You’re stealing my car and I’m selfish.”
“Don’t raise your voice,” Mom snapped. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”
That line broke me a little.
I had been quiet my entire life to avoid making a scene.
But now, watching Aaron sit there with that smug grin while my mom defended him again was like watching years of pentup resentment burst through the surface.
I wanted to scream, but instead I did something worse in their eyes.
I stood my ground.
“If he takes that car off this driveway, I will press charges. You can’t shield him from this.”
Aaron’s friends started whispering louder, one of them saying, “Dude, maybe we should just Uber.”
But Aaron was stubborn, just like mom.
He scoffed and turned the engine off with a dramatic sigh.
“Fine, we’ll figure something else out. You’re such a buzzkill, man.”
He threw the keys at me, and they bounced off my chest.
I thought that was the end of it.
I thought maybe, just maybe, they’d drop it and leave.
But I should have known better.
The rest of the day, Mom barely spoke to me except to throw little jabs.
“You’ve always been jealous of Aaron,” she muttered while washing dishes. “It’s sad, really. He just wanted a weekend of fun.”
Dad came home later that evening, and of course, she filled him in with her version of the story, how I overreacted and threatened my own brother over something as trivial as a car.
Dad didn’t even ask for my side.
He just shook his head at me with disappointment dripping from his voice.
“You really need to stop being so controlling, Lucas. Family should come first.”
That sentence burned.
Family should come first.
As if I wasn’t family.
As if all the years of me carrying my own weight, paying my own bills, never asking them for help didn’t count.
Meanwhile, Aaron lived rent-free at home, didn’t have a job that lasted longer than a few months, and somehow always had a new gadget or trip planned.
The days after were even worse.
Aaron kept finding little ways to remind me that I was the bad guy.
He made jokes at dinner about how I was married to my car.
He told relatives over the phone about how I tried to have him arrested for no reason.
And the worst part, they laughed.
They believed him.
I became the punchline.
One evening, I overheard mom and Aaron talking in the kitchen.