We Don't Talk Anymore (The Don't Duet Book 1)

by Julie Johnson

  He nods. “Your mother was not an easy nut to crack, as they say. Stubborn as they come, with a temper to boot. Not only that, her family was adamantly opposed to her marrying me. They wanted her to stay in San Juan forever, marry her neighbor, live one street over from the house she grew up in… It was not easy to convince her to leave behind everything she knew and start over with me in a strange new place, owning nothing but the shirts on our backs. For a while, the odds seemed stacked so high against me, I thought them insurmountable.”

  “So how did you make it work?”

  “I told her that a comfortable life with another man would not make her half as happy as an adventure with me. And then, I set out to prove it, every day.” A smile spreads across his face. “I don’t think she’s ever regretted her choice.”

  “But what if…” I swallow hard. “What if being with you had put her in a situation where you couldn’t ensure her safety? What if her life would’ve been worse off for loving you? Would your decision have been the same? Would you still have taken her away from the security of that simple life in her hometown?”

  Pa is silent for a long time. “I’m not sure I like your question. It makes my mind turn in uncomfortable directions.”

  I glance sharply at the wall.

  I’ve probably said too much.

  He runs a hand through his hair, his expression contorted in deep thought. “It’s hard to say what I would’ve done. I would never knowingly put your mother in harm’s way. But, selfish as it sounds, I’m not sure I would’ve chosen any differently.” His lips twist. “I can’t live without her, you see.”

  I do see.

  All my life, I’ve seen how they are together. Flora and Miguel. A perfect match. Complementary in every conceivable way. They possess that rare kind of co-dependence seen most often in fiction.

  “Archer.”

  I look at him. “Yeah?”

  “I know you. I know you would never put anyone in danger. Most especially Josephine. It’s clear as day how you feel about her, even if you can’t admit it yet.”

  “Is it really that obvious?”

  “Yes and no. Obvious is the wrong word. It’s more like… inevitable. Since you were no more than babies, the two of you have had a special connection. The way you move together — it’s like two planets sharing the same orbit. There’s a certain gravitational pull when you’re in the same room. It’s so strong, anyone who comes between you looks vastly out of place.” He laughs lightly. “Your mother and I have had a front-row seat for years. We knew it was only a matter of time before your planets collided.”

  “But if it’s as you say — a collision — that’s not exactly a good thing, Pa. Two planets slamming into each other sounds like a recipe for disaster. I believe scientists would classify it as an extinction event, actually.”

  He shrugs. “They’d also tell you that’s how Earth wound up with the moon. That beautiful floating thing in our night sky is just a byproduct of two planets colliding in space a few billion years ago.”

  I stare at him. “Do you have an answer for everything?”

  “Of course not. I’m just a handyman.” He winks. “Remember: sometimes, the only way to make something new is to break down what you have and start from scratch.” He pushes to his feet. “Now, come out to eat. Your mother made enchiladas.”

  I’m helping Ma with the dishes when the cottage door swings open. We all turn at the sound, eyes widening.

  Jax steps across the threshold. “Honey, I’m home.”

  “Jaxon! Thank god you’re back.” Ma races to his side, wrapping him in a hug. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried. You look thin. Have you been eating? I’ll fix you a plate. I’ve just put the enchiladas away, they’re still warm…”

  “Give the boy a chance to speak, Flora.” Pa is staring at his son with narrowed eyes. “I think we’d all like to hear how he’s been spending his time, these past few weeks.”

  Jaxon shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I just needed a bit of alone time.”

  I scoff.

  His eyes cut to mine, a warning in their depths.

  “Alone time?” Ma’s nose wrinkles. “We spent two years without you, mijo. We missed you every day. You must understand how hard on us it is to have you back for such a short time… to watch you walk out again without warning…”

  “Sorry, okay? I should’ve called.”

  “What about work?” Pa asks bluntly. “Your manager at the tire shop said you haven’t shown up for your shifts.”

  “I… uh.” Jaxon swallows. “I got another job.”

  “What job?”

  “An old friend of mine set it up.”

  I scoff again. “Right.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Archer.”

  “Jaxon!” Ma cries. “Language!”

  Pa’s voice drops low. “Don’t speak to your brother like that, Jaxon.”

  “He’s disrespecting me!”

  I roll my eyes. “To disrespect someone, they have to be worthy of respect in the first place.”

  “Archer!” Ma turns to me with a shocked look. “Apologize.”

  “No,” I say flatly, never shifting my eyes from my brother. I’m so fed up with him — with his lies, with his habits, with the way he keeps hurting my parents again and again. “Why don’t you tell them the details of your new job, Jax? Explain to them exactly what these old friends of yours have you doing.”

  Silence falls over the room.

  “What is he talking about, Jaxon?” Pa asks, stepping toward his eldest son.

  “He’s just trying to stir up trouble!” Jax scratches at his ear, looking jittery. “He’s jealous I’m home. He wants to make me look bad.”

  “Mijo,” Ma murmurs, examining him more closely. Awareness is creeping into her gaze. “Your brother loves you. We all love you.”

  “If that’s true, then you’ll lay off me!” he yells. “You’ll cut me a little fucking slack while I try to get my life back on track!”

  My parents trade a glance.

  Jaxon starts to pace, nervous energy rolling off him in waves. “I had to ditch my car, okay? I need to borrow your truck, Pa. Just for a few days. It’s for a job.”

  “I need my truck for my own work.” My father’s voice is steady, brooking no room for argument. “Perhaps we can find this car you… ditched… and get it fixed. I know a good mechanic in Rockport—”

  “No! God, why are you always like this?” Jaxon exclaims. “Why can’t you ever just help me out?”

  “We have helped you out —” My mother makes air-quotes with her fingertips. “—many times in the past, mijo. You know we would do anything to make your life easier.”

  Jaxon’s eyes are darting around the living room, not landing on anything for longer than a heartbeat. “What about your truck, Archer?”

  “You must be joking.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Jaxon,” Ma whispers. “Please…”

  He sucks in a breath. “Look… maybe you could spot me a little cash. Not much — just enough for me to get by for a week or so.”

  I laugh. I can’t help it — the sound bubbles up from my stomach and explodes out my mouth, filling the room like the rapport of a gun. “Of course that’s why you’re home. It all makes sense, now. You need money.”

  “You’ve got a fresh mouth, little brother. Someone ought to shut it for you.” Jaxon strides toward me, his fist cocking back.

  I don’t duck. I don’t even lift my hands to defend myself from the impending blow.

  My mother screams as Jaxon swings at me. Before the punch lands, my father steps between us, palming Jaxon’s fist like a basketball. Absorbing the strike with impressive ease.

  “Enough,” Pa grunts, squeezing Jaxon’s hand until he gasps in pain. “This is my house. While you are under my roof, you will not act like this. Do you understand me?”

  Jax gives a shaky nod.

  “Good.”

  Pa is still holding Jaxon�
�s fist. Yanking on it, he pulls his son close enough to peer directly into his eyes — searching his pupils for the telltale signs of drug use. After a long moment, he leans back. His tone is impassive.

  “You’re using again.”

  “Let go of me,” Jax hisses, ducking his gaze. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  My father’s face is carved from stone as he releases his first-born son. My mother looks like she’s about to cry.

  “This was a waste of time,” Jaxon mutters, heading for the door. “Don’t know why I bothered coming here. You people don’t care about me.”

  “Jaxon!” Ma calls as he steps outside, her voice full of pain. “Don’t say that!”

  The slamming screen door is his only response.

  She starts after him, but my father stops her with a gentle touch on the small of her back.

  “Flora. Let him go. You have to let him go.”

  When her tears begin to flow, he folds her against his chest. She sobs into his shirt as he strokes her hair, making soothing noises.

  Over her head, our gazes meet. His eyes hold a new awareness — and new questions.

  Later, he mouths sternly at me. We need to talk.

  I swallow hard and give a small nod of agreement.

  Maybe it’s time I finally told my parents exactly what kind of trouble Jaxon is in.

  Maybe they’re finally ready to listen.

  An hour later, Pa and I lean against the sit-atop lawnmower, staring across the expanse of lush green grass. The grounds of Cormorant House are always pretty, but now, on the cusp of full summer, they’re glorious.

  “You knew,” Pa says after a long beat of silence.

  I nod. There’s no use denying it.

  “How long?” he asks.

  “Officially? About a week. But I’ve suspected since he first disappeared last month.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “You were so happy to have him back.” I stare down at my shoes. “I didn’t want to be the one who took him away from you again.”

  “That’s not your call to make, Archer.” Pa shakes his head. “We are your parents! We are supposed to protect you, not the other way around!”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault. I’m just…” He blows out a breath. “This situation is difficult. For me. For you. For your mother, most of all.”

  “Is she going to be okay?”

  “In time. But not today. She is taking your brother’s relapse very hard. She blames herself, you know. If she’d told the doctors not to prescribe those pills, all those years ago when he was injured, maybe—”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I agree. But emotions are rarely logical.”

  We’re both quiet for a stretch.

  “I hate to see her cry,” I say finally, my throat thick. “When he went to jail, she cried for months. I thought she’d never stop. So, when he came back and started to spiral again… I figured, if I could keep her from finding out… maybe she’d never have to know. Maybe she’d stay happy.” I pause. “I didn’t realize how serious the situation was until later.”

  “I know you have a protective streak, son. It’s one of your most honorable qualities. But sometimes you get so caught up in trying to protect the people you care about, you wind up doing more damage in the long run.”

  My eyes press closed.

  If only he knew how right he is.

  A hand clasps my shoulder. “We love your brother. We will always love your brother. But we are not blind to his faults. It’s better for us to know all the information, so we have a chance to help him. Really help him.”

  “You mean rehab.”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  Neither of us says what we’re both thinking.

  If it even works.

  In the past, rehab has never been more than a temporary fix. We have no reason to believe this time would be any different. And the cost alone for a six-week detox program…

  It’s far more than our family could ever afford.

  Jo’s parents were generous enough to cover Jaxon’s two previous stints, back when he was a troubled teen living on their property. There’s no guarantee they’d do so again, now that he’s an adult — and an ex-con, at that.

  “Would Vincent agree to—”

  My father cuts me off with a stark whisper. “I don’t want to take more charity from the Valentines. Especially since I’m not fully convinced rehab is the best place for your brother, right now.”

  “What’s the alternative?” I ask. “Send him back to prison? Lock him up for the rest of his life?”

  “That’s the last thing I want for him. But I think we both know, this is about more than just him using again.” My father is watching me intently. “Earlier, in our conversation about Josephine… something you said caught my attention.”

  I avoid his gaze. “What’s that?”

  “You asked me if I’d have still pursued your mother, despite knowing I’d be putting her in danger. I can’t help wondering if this danger you’re so worried about dragging Josephine into has something to do with your brother.”

  My jaw locks down, holding the words at bay. After keeping them inside for so long, I’m not certain I know how to release them.

  “Tell me, Archer,” Pa orders. “The truth, this time. All of it.”

  I know, from his grave tone as much as the stern furrow of his brow, that there will be no evading my father’s questions.

  Not any longer.

  I suck in a deep breath, trying to steady myself. And then, in as measured a voice as I can manage, I tell him. Everything. About Rico and Barboza. About their threats to me, to Jo, to him, to Ma. The parking lot ambush, my hand poised on a tailgate hatch; the afternoon break-in, a gun pressed against my cheek.

  I describe their determination to bring Jax into the fold, dealing dangerous product to his local connections. And, finally, I tell him the darkest of my suspicions: that Jax will comply with their demands, rather than risk his own neck.

  An unforgivable act of self-preservation.

  “No,” my father breathes when I finally trail off into silence. “This cannot be true.”

  “I wish it weren’t.”

  “How could you not tell me this?” he roars, making me flinch. His voice has risen to twice its normal volume. I’ve never heard him yell before; he’s usually the epitome of calm. “How could you keep this a secret for so long?”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to put you or Ma in any danger.”

  “So you thought you’d put yourself in it instead? Dios mio, Archer, I could strangle you for being so stubborn.”

  “Get in line,” I mutter, thinking of Jo’s words to me last night.

  You are the most stubborn human alive.

  He begins to curse in Spanish, a rapid stream of profanity I can barely follow.

  “I was trying to keep you safe,” I tell him, exasperation stirring to life inside my chest. “Don’t I get any points for that?”

  “And who was keeping you safe? Huh? Who was protecting you when these men showed up? Or do you think you’re invincible?” Without waiting for an answer, Pa pushes to his feet and begins to pace. “Of all my worst fears, I never thought… a gang… dealing again…”

  The cursing resumes.

  My eyes narrow in thought. “If he’s caught again, he’ll face a much harsher sentence. He could end up spending half his life in prison if we don’t do something to fix this.”

  Pa stops in his tracks. When he turns to look at me, bewilderment contorts his features. “You think that’s what I care about right now? Your brother getting in trouble?”

  I blink. “Uh…”

  “Archer.” My father falls to his knees in front of me. His eyes are rimmed with red. “I have two sons. I love them both. But it pains me deeply that you think I would ever value Jaxon’s future over yours
.” He grabs my hand, his steely grip grinding my finger bones together. “I will not sacrifice one son to shield the other. I will not let you walk around in fear, paying the price for a sin you had no part in.”

  My eyes are stinging. “I… I just thought…”

  “I know what you thought. But you’re wrong.” He stands and pulls me into a hug so tight, it squeezes the air from my lungs. “Your brother is the only one who should be held accountable for his mistakes. Not me, not your mother. Certainly not you. I’m so sorry for ever making you think otherwise.”

  I hug him back, trying not to break down. Hearing this — that I’m not second-place in my parents’ hearts simply because I’m the second-born — is something I’ve waited my whole life for.

  We both brush inconspicuously at our eyes as we break apart and lean back against the lawnmower. His shoulder presses tight to mine. It’s quiet for a long moment.

  “Tomorrow,” he says finally. “We will go to the police station together and tell them what’s been going on. Whatever happens after that, at least you will no longer be in danger.”

  “But Pa, the police in this town… you know as well as I do how they react when they hear the name Reyes.”

  “My mind is made up, son.” He blows out a breath. “Just give me tonight to talk to your mother. I need to be the one to break this to her. It will not be easy for her to hear.”

  Relief surges through me. It’s undercut by a fresh tide of guilt when I think about my mother’s reaction to this information. I stare at my shoes again, thinking dark thoughts.

  “She won’t blame you,” Pa says, reading my mind. “Your mother loves you very much.”

  “I know she does. I just hate the idea of hurting her.”

  “Mmm. Not just her, I think. How much does Josephine know about all this?”

  “Nothing. Not with any certainty.” I rub the back of my neck, a nervous habit. “Though I’m sure she has her suspicions.”

  “In that case, I’m sure she’s furious at you for keeping her in the dark.”

  “Furious is an understatement.”

  “Then tell her. Make things right.”

  I look over at him. “I don’t know how. I’ve been terrible to her, Pa. The things I’ve done… the way I’ve treated her… I don’t deserve her forgiveness.”