When she left me at the door, she said, “If you need anything, just call!”

The woman left, and I opened the door, only to be greeted with, “Oh, you son of a bitch!”

“Gabe, I can explain!” Jorel said, frightened.

They’d taken me to the wrong fucking room. For all I cared, Jorel could die, and I wouldn’t bat an eye. On the contrary, he’d stop bothering me. I didn’t need a kid, since my brother already put me through everything a teenage son could. The only difference ...