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He’d only been like two and would never have remembered the trip if he were alive today. I barely did, all of it fading so much.
Jax’s hand slid down the photo. “You still talk to your dad?”
I nodded. “Here and there. He sends a text every once in a while. But it was like, once I turned eighteen, he just kind of was gone. He struggles a lot. Gambling. Drinking. He got so bad after…”
I nearly said his name, Nathan.
Almost instantly the sickness rose, but it didn’t used to be this way. I could say his name. It’d been okay. I wasn’t okay, but I’d gotten myself to a place where I was.
I guessed after last weekend, things were really fresh.
Again, Jax’s attention was on me. He completely put down the photo once more, just staring at me. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but I realized in that moment, I think I overstayed my welcome.
Playing with my braid, I passed him, but when I clipped his shoulder, Jax angled himself in front me. He was full blown heat, height and body, and none of it, I had any idea what to do with.
“I’m sorry again for getting into your things.” Instead, I chose an apology, easy and my default. My guilt had returned, guilt surrounding my lost sibling, and I thought maybe, apologizing for something else, would help. Help anything going on inside me. Giving myself always made me feel better. But no amount of volunteer or charity work ever completely removed the pain. I had an eternal debt, a sin that would always plague me.
Jax was one of them. Because no matter how much I wasn’t supposed to feel attracted to him, I was. I couldn’t stop the feeling of wanting to touch him, taste him, which was precisely the reason I didn’t back away.
And let him get closer.
His hand on the desk, he angled his body near mine in a way our chests nearly brushed. His lips wetted, his head dipped. “Why didn’t you tell me about your brother, Girl Scout?”
My heartbeat punched a hole directly through my rib cage, my eyes flashing wide at him. “How did you know about that?”
Had he always known? Had he always played me for a fool? Did he know about my brother before pretending to drown in that water? A million questions in my head, Jax wrestling with his hair.
“Rick,” he said, frowning. “He said that’s why… Last weekend?” Another wrestle of his hair. “I wish you would have said something.”
So he hadn’t known.
Complete silence on my end. Because what could I have said? I freaked out because my actual brother died in that same way? I freaked out because I felt guilty.
Because I’d basically killed him myself?
I did by neglecting him, letting him fall in that pool. My little brother’s death was my fault, only mine and no one else’s.
No, I wouldn’t say any of those things to my stepbrother now. I wouldn’t have him see me weaker than I already felt.
Hugging my arms, I started to shoulder away from him, but he grabbed me.
He grabbed me.
My hips fell into his heavy hold, his jaw worked so tight his temple pulsed, and the vein in his neck protruded. “Why would you ever go in that water after me?”
I had no words for him, because each word was one I didn’t want to hear. That I cared about him.
That I more than cared about him.
That the concept of life and death and fear—I didn’t think about that day. I just thought he’d been drowning.
“You were…” I started, my lips trembling. “I thought you were drowning.”
“But why—” His lips opened and closed, his voice thick and gravelly before he gripped his jaw. “But you didn’t know how to swim.”
“I do,” I said, clearly surprising him when his head shot up. “I just forgot. I… I panicked.”
I spoke the words weaker than I meant to, that I had panicked, seeing him. It had brought back so many horrible memories for me.
