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My lip quivered, but I clenched my teeth hard to stop them from chattering. When I could speak again, I inhaled through my nose. “Is it that bad? So bad that I would be dead to you because of it?”
She didn’t blink. “Asher, you are an adult. I won’t try to control you. I won’t tell you what not to do if you’re not smart enough to stay away from it by now.” She paused for all the punches to land and I felt each word strike. “My life’s falling apart again. Another man, another marriage. And my son hoped to profit from that. As if it’s not bad enough that you’ve been seduced into this perverted clusterfuck, you were hoping my tragedy would free you to keep sleeping with your stepbrother. So, no. You’re not dead to me, Asher. You can never be dead to me. But it’s time for you and me to go different ways. George?” The last word she said in the direction of the living room, and loudly, as though I had only been a short distraction.
Unceremoniously, she turned around and walked out into the pattering rain. George went after her in a few moments and shot me an ambiguous look over his shoulder.
She was right about one thing. I hadn’t considered what the divorce would be like for her; I’d just celebrated the freedom Jordan and I would enjoy afterward.
Once the door shut, she was gone for good. She meant every word she had said to me and I stood like I had turned to stone at the top of the stairs. Until Jordan stalked out of the kitchen and into the hallway. He looked up. “Baby boy…”
His soft, quiet words ripped something in me, and my feet moved again. I spun away from him as tears brimmed in my eyes and burned my face where they spilled. I was in my room before he could make a single step after me.
The door slammed hard behind my back and my fingers turned the key. My eyes squeezed shut against the tears I neither wanted nor needed right now.
I wasn’t absolutely sure of it until I heard his footsteps. Even then, some tiny compartment in my heart kept hope on life support. If only it would die right away and free me of all this guilt. What was done was done; I couldn’t change the past. But as long as I hoped things would get better, I would taste the bitter flavor of guilt. It was like poking at a fresh wound.
The knock on my door was soft at first. “Asher, please,” he said in a gentle tone. “Come out and talk to me.”
I tiptoed away from the door, leaving Jordan to knock and plead for a time I didn’t know how to measure and track. His efforts went nowhere. Right now, I couldn’t look at him without feeling the price of our thrills deep in my bones.
At some point, Jordan left. At some point, I slept again. And when I was awake, I hesitated, but a creeping headache warned me that I needed both food and coffee. The survival instinct propelled me out of my room. The storm had passed by the time I was out of my room and the house was quiet without Mom and George. Jordan was probably in his room, hopefully sleeping and not waiting to hear my footsteps.
I made a bowl of cereal quickly while coffee was brewing and ate it even quicker, spraying the counter with drops of milk. As I poured myself a mug of coffee, his footsteps announced him again.
My heart dropped into my stomach.
Couldn’t he see that this was torturing me?
Jordan moved quietly into the kitchen, his expression almost apologetic for some reason. He shot me a sad look, his shoulders slouching, his face drooping. “Got some for me?”
I nodded and grabbed a clean mug. Wordlessly, I poured the coffee and pushed the mug across the counter to my stepbrother and lover.
“Thanks.” He lifted it and took a small sip.
In the awkward silence, I lifted my mug and moved to get out of the room.
“Asher, wait,” he said, firmer. It wasn’t exactly the commanding voice he had used throughout this summer break to get me to heel, but it had enough of its quality to stop me. “We have to talk about this.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said in a flat, emotionless voice. I had no emotions to spare.
“And you think I want to? You think I have a burning desire to discuss our parents finding me naked in your bed?” He clenched his teeth, his cheeks flexing and eyes smoldering like glowing embers.
“You keep trying,” I said. Only a few sentences in, we were already pulling ourselves apart and bringing up the walls. This sounded more like how we had talked to one another our whole lives. Gone was the tenderness of the past few weeks.
“Because we have to, not because I feel like it,” Jordan said tightly. “And you can’t run from it forever.”
“I don’t want to run from it forever,” I said. “Only now. I can’t…” My voice cracked, and I stopped speaking. After a moment, I had to ask. “George?”
Jordan shook his head slowly. “Didn’t say a word.”
“At least he didn’t tell you not to call him dad,” I pointed out venomously as if it was Jordan’s fault. It hurt me as much as it hurt him, but I couldn’t keep this anger in me. He was pulling it out of me and I had nowhere else to put it.
Jordan ignored the dig and shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t try.”
“So it’s my fault she all but disowned me?” I demanded.
Something went out in his eyes. Some spark or some fondness. The embers died and cold ash remained. “That’s not what I said.”
No, it wasn’t. But I had put the wards around whatever was left of my heart and I couldn’t allow myself to be fair. Not to him and not to myself.
