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“I’m not even sure myself,” I admit. “I was worried. About you.”
He laughs, a harsh sound that ends abruptly. “You’re fucking kidding me?”
Don’t take the bait, Octavia. “I’ve been having this dream about you. You die in it. And I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“You are fucking kidding me.” But his gaze swings back at me, uncertain. “You’re here because of a dream?”
“No, you don’t get it.” God, he really is an ass, or that stupid? “I’m here because of you. I dream of you because I am worried about you. That’s how nightmares work. You don’t get scared of things that don’t matter to you.”
“And now I matter to you all of a sudden?”
“I found out you were in prison, Ross. That your father—our father—has been drinking and pushing everyone in the garage around. You were an asshole to me, so why would I care, right? But you’re also my brother, and since our good-for-nothing father isn’t there for you, yeah I got worried.”
His face pales. The knot in his throat moves as he swallows.
“You can stop this,” I whisper. “This vicious cycle. Stop drinking, being mean to people and getting into prison. You’re young, Ross. You can still fix your life. You don’t have to turn into our father.”
Silence falls. Matt is staring at me, gaze thoughtful.
Ross’s face is paper white, spots of red on his cheekbones.
I replay my words in my mind. Ross is turning into Jasper, isn’t he? Drinking, getting into trouble, turning into a loathsome loner nobody wants around, a guy with a history of violence and problems. A guy the judge will send to prison every time, because he’s a troublemaker.
In the silence, the screech of Ross’s chair being shoved back startles me. “Well, I’m fine as you can see. That should set your mind at rest, sister.” He bares his teeth at me. “Go and reproduce in peace, and let me destroy myself the way I want.”
Matt is on his feet, too. “Don’t let us stop you,” he says. “Fuck off and don’t come near Octavia again.”
But the lump in my throat won’t let me breathe. “Why?” I lean forward. “Why do you hate me so much, Ross?”
He stops, his back at me, and at first I think he won’t reply. But he turns back around, hands fisted at his sides, eyes glittering.
“Because you had it all,” he says bitterly. “A loving mom, and siblings. A nice, warm house. Warm food on the table. You had love. I could see it on your face every day, and it pissed me off. You’re my goddamn age. That could have been me, but it wasn’t. It was you. I got the drunkard, violent dad, and you got the loving mom. So I figured it was only fucking fair that you suffer a little, too. Share my fate.”
My heart lurches, starts pounding. “Ross…”
“Fuck off.” He dashes a hand over his face and turns away again. “I hope your dreams stop, and you forget all about me. Leave me alone. Go back to your perfect little world.”
“Please don’t go yet.”
He sighs, his shoulders rising and falling. “Don’t you see? I don’t hate you, Octavia. I hate myself.”
And in two strides he’s out of the diner. I watch numbly through the window as he walks over to the truck, opens the door and drags his duffel bag out. Slinging it over his shoulder, he walks away and vanishes.
Probably for good. I doubt I’ll ever see him again, except in my dreams—and yet…
And yet I have a feeling this isn’t over, that this meeting wasn’t for nothing. A butterfly’s flight can change the world, so why not this?
Chapter Fifteen
Matt
I order breakfast and then practically force-feed it to Octavia. She needs to eat, even if she’s shell-shocked right now. It’s as if we’ve been through a goddamn nuclear explosion, sitting in the wasteland left behind and trying to make sense of it.
Well, Octavia has to feel that way. Me? I’m not that surprised. Ross is a mean motherfucker. I was right about him.
Wasn’t I?
I hate it when the doubts hit. Yeah, he’s a douchebag. He’s just as he was last time I saw him. Leaner, harder, for sure. Prison does that to you. He looks more tired, more careful.
