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Jagger’s sigh spoke to his displeasure in the conversation. He rose, walked to Keith, and clasped him by the shoulders, keeping him from escaping. “You know she isn’t Della, right? And she’s nothing like Dad.”
Keith’s stomach turned over. He shook his head. “What?”
“Michaela isn’t Della. She’s not a teenaged brat with stars in her eyes. She’s not going to leave you because she doesn’t think you’re glittery enough. The woman has had all that and left it on purpose because it almost destroyed her. I don’t know why, but she thinks you hung the fucking moon. And she sure as hell doesn’t deserve to be lumped in with Dad just because she’s in recovery. Or because you’re afraid.”
Keith scoffed. What the hell had his brother been smoking? “Afraid? What the fuck am I afraid of?”
“You’re afraid of being disappointed again. Of having someone promise you better and different and not delivering. Mom always promised Dad would change some day. He always claimed he could quit at any time. And Della offered you a world you’d never experienced. But they all disappointed you, and you’re terrified of it happening again because this time, you care more than you ever have before.”
He opened his mouth to blast his brother’s incorrect opinion, but instead, his shoulders sagged.
Well fuck.
“But she isn’t them,” Jagger continued. “And it’s not fair for you to judge her through their lenses, Keith. If you could get your head out of your ass for two minutes and take a good look at the woman, you’d realize that. Whatever drove her to make such drastic changes in her life affected her on a cellular level. Go see her, Keith. Look at her and listen to her when she speaks. You’ll see it and hear it. It’s not lip service. You’ll see someone who worked harder on herself than any of us will even come close to. It takes immense courage, strength, and resilience to face the darkest parts of ourselves. To not only own up to them but atone for them and work to change them. Our parents never even took the first step toward change. Michaela has made it happen.” He squeezed Keith’s shoulder. “Listen to her, and you’ll find a woman who is happy now when she never was before. And you are a big part of that happiness, brother.”
With that, Jagger strode out of the room, dragging the door closed behind him, and leaving Keith standing in the middle of the room with his jaw on the floor.
Christ, when had Jagger become so fucking in tune with this kinda shit?
His brother had a point. Multiple points, really. Keith had let his personal past shit get in the way of hearing anything Michaela had to said. As soon as she’d told him her secret, his brain ran with the news to dark places.
He ran a hand down his face.
The least she deserved was a chance to tell her story.
Fuck, it must have taken a ton of courage for her to admit to him who she was. Especially after her near-violent reaction to the news reporting a sighting of her. She’d opened up, shared the most intimate part of herself with him, and he’d fucking bailed on her like an asshole.
He’d be lucky if she didn’t slam the door in his face.
Suddenly, the need to see her grew in intensity until he could feel it scratching at his skin. Keith snatched his keys off the dresser, grabbed his jacket then jogged out of his room. As he blew through the kitchen, Jagger, who was nuking leftovers, shouted, “That’s my boy. Go get ’em, tiger.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Keith called back, then rolled his eyes at Jagger’s laughter.
Twenty seconds later, he was hustling up Mickie’s driveway when her front door opened, and a man walked out.
Keith drew up short. His fists clenched. Who the fuck was this? Had she moved on already? Christ. The man couldn’t be more different than himself. Slender, with dark jeans, a dark sweater, and an expensive-looking leather jacket, the guy smirked and folded thin arms over his chest as he leaned on the door frame. His hair was perfect, not a strand out of place. And was he wearing eyeliner?
“Well, you must be Keith,” he said, voice letting Keith know his immediate distrust.
Thanks for the heads up, Jagger.
“Yeah. I am.”
“Hmm.”
“Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m Ralph. Mickie’s best friend from LA. I flew out here a few nights ago when my girl called me. Crying.” He tilted his head, and his glossy mouth turned down. “You see, it takes quite a lot to make Mickie cry.”
Fuck. Keith shifted, allowing his hands to relax. “Is she inside?”
“Are you here to upset her further?”
Keith could take the guy blindfolded and with his hands tied behind his back, but he had to admire the way the smaller man defended Mickie. Clearly, they were close, and Ralph was very protective of his friend.
