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“What was it this time?”
“Barbed wire.”
Lux wrinkles her nose. “Nasty.”
Nasty, indeed. “Hurts like a bitch.”
“Good.” My sister tosses the bloody bandage in the trash. “Maybe you'll learn to be more careful.”
My eye roll becomes a wince when Lux douses my hand in antiseptic without warning, the stinging sensation making my whole hand tingle. “Fuck.”
“It's deeper than I thought,” Lux tuts, bringing my hand to her face to get a better look, fingers gently probing the edges of the wound. “That's gonna scar.”
I groan in anticipation; I know what that means.
Lux smirks as she clambers up onto the kitchen counter, rummaging around in the upper cabinets until she pulls out a half-empty jar. My nose crinkles at the sight of it, as if I can already smell the contents; the most godawful, supposedly medicinal blend of garlic,honey and God knows what else. It smells like shit, it burns like hell, and if Lux makes you choke down a teaspoon of it dissolved in water disguised as some kind of fucked up tea? Good fucking luck.
Our mom swore by the stuff. It was one of the few parental things she ever did, slapping that shit on every bruise or skinned knee in sight. Apparently, the habit stuck because now Lux keeps a jar stored away for the same reasons. Last summer, it was full and relatively untouched. The big chunk of it now missing is my fault, and my fault only.
We both cough as Lux twists open the jar and the potent smell attacks our eyes. I contemplate fleeing before the shit can take root in my hair and pores but Lux wraps an iron grip around my wrist. Dumping a scoop on my palm, she disregards my whines of protest, spreading it around until the cut is completely covered before wrapping clean gauze around my hand.
Sympathy? None to be found.
A look that screams 'that's what you get for being a reckless dumbass?’ Plentiful.
Letting the stuff do its thing, Lux moves to the sink, slathering her garlicky hands in soap and scrubbing hard enough to rub her skin right off. “You could've cut your finger off.”
“You would've sewn it back on.”
The joke earns me a dirty look. “You have to be more careful.”
“Yes, mom.”
A wet hand hits me upside the head, again. “I'm serious, Jackson. There's enough shit going on around here. I don't need a maimed brother to add to the list.”
“It's sweet how much you care,” I coo, rising to tug on my little sister’s braid with my good hand. “But I'm fine. I can take care of myself.”
A snort escapes her as she swats my hand away. Drying her hands, she lands against the counter, still sporting that disapproving expression as she cocks her head. “I'm worried about you.”
“You don't need to be.” At her knowing look of disbelief, I sigh. “It’s been six months, Lux. I’m fine.”
She snorts again. “Fine. Yeah. That's what you are.”
“Hey, you got broken up with too. You don't see me smothering you.”
“You don't see me practically killing myself fixing this place,” she shoots back. Shifting in place, she waves a dismissive hand in the air. “And Mark didn’t break up with me. It was mutual.”
Mutual, my ass.
Mutual breakups don't lead to you crying so hard, you vomit. I heard her, every day straight for a damn week when she locked herself in her room and wouldn't talk to anyone. That doesn’t exactly screammutualto me.
It might be hard to tell, but it’s been a rough few months for the Jackson family. Two pretty fucking colossal breakups that left the eldest siblings out of commission. The twins started college and moved into dorms which sent Lux into even more of a tailspin. Lottie is still a nightmare, or at least according to Grace she is. Eliza hates school and she won't tell either of us why.
But we've managed. We pushed on. We got over it, kind of.
I just keep reminding myself that I'm almost home free. One semester left and I'll have graduated. A few months until I can get the hell out of Sun Valley. Until I can come home, something I never thought I’d wish for when I left.
“Have you talked to her?”
