by Ashley Jade
And there’s no sign of Liam.
I catch Cole in my peripheral vision and grab him. “Where’s Liam?”
He shrugs. “What do I look like, his keeper?”
No, but as the oldest, I am. And right now, there’s a brick in my gut the size of Texas.
“Cole,” I grit through my teeth.
“He ran home crying like a little bitch.”
“Why?”
A hint of sympathy flashes in his eyes. “I’m not sure. Tommy and Liam left the gym for a few minutes. When they came back, Liam was crying and Tommy was grinning like a cat who ate a goldfish.”
“Shit.”
“It gets worse.” He winces. “Tommy started pointing and laughing at him. Calling him a prissy fag. Pretty soon everyone else joined in.” He averts his gaze. “Liam tried defending himself, but he was so upset he—”
“Got stuck on the first word.”
He snorts. “More like the first letter. It was pretty brutal, even I felt bad for him.”
Not bad enough to step in and do anything about it.
But I don’t have time to worry about Cole and Liam’s lousy relationship. I have more important shit to take care of.
Rage lights me up like an inferno and I scan the gym for Tommy. “Where the hell is he?”
I’m gonna shove my fist down his throat and rip out his goddamn tongue so he can never talk shit about Liam again.
“Not sure. I saw him leave a few minutes after Liam did.”
I check my watch. “Dad won’t be here for another half hour.”
If he gets here, that is. Most of the time he’s still working at his office and it’s easier to walk the twenty minutes to our house rather than wait for him to remember his kids.
“I’m gonna walk home.”
Cole nods. “Have fun. I’m gonna find Hay—”
I grip his jacket. “The fuck you are.”
Annoyance twists his features. “This isn’t my problem. Why do I have to—”
“Because you’re his brother, too.” I shove him. “Start acting like one, prick.”
“Fine. Whatever.” He looks over at Hayley and sighs. “Let’s go.”
We make it home in fifteen.
Bianca’s parked on the sofa painting her nails. Given I see no signs of Mrs. Garcia—the babysitter my dad hires on the rare occasions me and my brothers aren’t around—I assume Liam is home.
“Liam is so mad at you,” Bianca says when she spots us.
Cole and I exchange a glance.
“It’s not my fault he ran out of the dance crying,” Cole says with a scowl. “Blame Tommy DaSilva.”
Considering Cole didn’t defend him tonight, Liam has a right to be pissed at him.
“Not you.” She looks at me. “You.”
“Me?” That doesn’t make any sense. “Did he say why?”
She thinks about this for a moment before replying, “Nope.” Smirking, she looks up at the ceiling. “But he did ask me where the bat was.”
As if on cue, there’s a loud crash upstairs.
Cole whistles. “I’m gonna take a guess and say you pointed him in the right direction.”
Bianca blows on her nails. “Duh.”
“Thanks a lot.”
I take the stairs two at a time.
Cole follows behind me. “What did you do?”
“I have no idea.”
“I’ve never seen him so mad before,” Bianca whisper-shouts.
Cole and I turn around. “Go downstairs.”
Pouting, she slinks down the staircase. “I hope Liam takes a bat to your balls.”
Great. Another sibling I’ve managed to tick off tonight.
Glass shattering assaults my ears as I open my bedroom door.
My stomach falls when I see my broken computer screen. “What the hell are you doing?”
Bat in hand, those angry green eyes swivel to me. “T-t-taking s-s-something you l-l-love aw-w-way.” He swings again, attacking the tower this time. “Maybe n-n-now you’ll k-k-know w-w-what it f-f-feels lik-k-ke.”
Jesus Christ. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t take anything away from—”
“Dylan,” he seethes, moving on to my Xbox. Various pieces of plastic and metal fly across the room. “I s-s-saw you two k-k-k-kissing in t-t-the c-c-c-loset.”
Shit. How do I even begin to explain this?
Easy…I can’t.
“About damn time,” Cole says unhelpfully.
“S-s-shut up,” Liam screams, his voice breaking.
Cole holds up his hands. “Bro, you’re acting like a psycho. Put the bat down.”
“No.” He strikes the stack of my most prized video games next. “You k-k-knew how m-m-much I l-l-loved her.”
He’s right. I did.
My chest feels like it’s made out of lead. “How did you find out?”
Dylan told me he was dancing with Heather, there’s no way he could know we were in there.
“I j-j-just t-t-told you, dumbas-s-ss. I s-s-saw—”
“How did you know we were in the closet?” Cole’s words from earlier detonate my brain. Tommy. “Goddammit.”
He smashes my television next. “Tommy t-t-told me you were s-s-sneaking around b-b-behind my b-b-back. I didn’t b-b-believe him, but he s-s-said he could p-p-prove it.”
How did he know?
It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters right now is Liam thinks I betrayed him.
“I’m so—” The sound of my phone ringing cuts me off.
The ringtone tells me it’s Dylan calling, but no way in hell am I going to answer it in front of him.
As if sensing my internal debate, Liam zeros in on me. “Is t-t-that her?”
Taking my cell out of my pocket, I turn it off. “Doesn’t matter.”
Shaking his head, he places my brand-new laptop on top of my desk.
I take a step toward him. “Liam, stop!”
Liam swings at the air between us before he flips my laptop open and proceeds to smash the screen and keyboard to smithereens.
“Did you t-t-tell her I l-l-loved her?” He swings again and his voice cracks. “Did you b-b-both g-g-get a g-g-good laugh?”
“No.” Liam made me promise never to tell her until he was ready. I swore I’d take his secret to my grave. “I told you I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Ha. Like I c-c-can t-t-trust you,” he screams. “You’re n-n-nothing b-b-b-b-but a liar.”
“Christ, man. Get a grip,” Cole yells. “Stop acting like a maniac and destroying Jace’s stuff.”
Liam glares at his twin. “He k-k-kissed, Dy—”
“Yeah, I know. But Dylan was never yours, dude.” He snorts. “Did you really think you had a shot with her?” He rocks back on his heels. “A blind person could see she’s been into Jace for a while now. But even if she wasn’t, no way would she ever date someone like you.”
My fingers curls into fists. “Cole.”
Despite my tone and Liam’s tears, he continues.
“No one likes you, Liam. Not even your own family.” His features twist in disgust. “You’re embarrassing. Always looking for attention with your crying and stuttering—”
“That’s enough,” I growl, winding my fist back. “Say another word and I swear to God I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
“Whatever. Screw this.” He looks at Liam. “Screw you.” He flips us both the bird. “You assholes sort your own shit out. I’m done.” He starts walking but pauses when he reaches the frame. “I wish it was one of you who died instead of Mom. Maybe then this family wouldn’t be such a disaster.”
With that, he leaves, slamming the door behind him.
Three siblings down. Zero to go. Awesome.
After clearing a spot, I sit down on my bed. “I’m sorry, Liam. I know you’re mad. You have every right to be. But I didn’t mean to hurt you. Dylan and I—”
“Yes, you d-d-did. Otherwise you w-w-wouldn’t have d-d-done it.” Tears c
loud his eyes. “You k-k-know how m-m-much I l-l-love her. S-s-she w-w-was the only g-g-good t-t-thing in m-m-my l-l-life.” His body starts shaking with sobs. “N-n-now she’s g-g-gone. J-j-just like M-m-mom.”
I feel so helpless it’s all I can do not to scream. I didn’t want to take Dylan away or upset him like this.
For once, I just wanted to be happy…which is exactly what Dylan makes me.
But as usual, I don’t get that privilege. Liam’s my little brother and I have to make things right between us.
It’s what Mom would want.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I utter, “Tell me how to fix this. What will it take for you to forgive me?”
My mother always told us nothing in life was broken beyond repair. With enough determination, everything could be mended and restored.
However, the inconsolable look on Liam’s face deflates her theory.
“You c-c-can’t, a-s-s-shole.” Anger radiates off him in waves and he goes back to smashing my stuff. “I’ll n-n-never f-f-forgive you f-f-for t-t-this. You’re a b-b-backstabber. The w-w-worst b-b-brother in the w-w-world. F-f-fuck you.”
Dammit. I’ve tried to stay calm and be understanding, but I’ve had about all I can take. I could turn myself inside out and roll over every broken piece of glass in this room, and it wouldn’t matter at this point. He’s determined to make me suffer.
Why should I care about him when it’s clear he doesn’t give a shit about me or my happiness?
Standing, I point to the door. “Get out. I’m not your punching bag.”
His jaw clenches. “No.” He smashes the frame containing a picture of me and our mother on my nightstand. “I hat-t-te you.”
Whatever thread I was hanging onto snaps. “Fine, but hating me and smashing my shit still won’t make Dylan like you.” Rushing toward him, I snatch the bat out of his hand. “Get the fuck out of my room, crybaby.” His eyes widen and he freezes, but it’s too late. He’s already pushed me to my limit. There’s no going back now.
Taking hold of his arm, I begin hauling him toward the door. When he struggles, I grab his hair and drag him across the room like an animal. It’s exactly what he’s acting like. “Congrats, you just lost the only friend you ever had.” Opening the door, I shove him past the threshold. “Actually, make that two friends. Because you bet your ass I’m telling her everything when she comes over later.”
“Jac-c-c—” He starts to say but I push him so hard he falls.
“Shut your mouth, because I am done listening.” I slam a fist into my chest. “I refuse to be miserable just because you are. Dylan makes me happy and I make her happy.” My throat tightens to the point of pain. “Which is something you’ll never be able to do.”
With that, I slam the door in his face.
Seconds later, I kneel down next to the shattered picture of me and my mom and bury my head in my hands.
I wish like hell she was here to help me pick up the broken pieces of my life.
But a small part of me is thankful she’s not…so she can’t see the mess I’ve made.
The sun peeking through the curtains is like a laser zapping through my skull. With a grunt, I roll over and stuff my pillow over my head, attempting to block out the light.
The events of last night come rushing back like a tsunami.
Dylan.
Liam.
The room my little brother destroyed that took me four hours and seven garbage bags to clean up.
On impulse, I reach for my phone on the nightstand.
It’s off.
Turning my head, I eye the window.
The one I locked last night.
The hand on my phone twitches with the need to call her and explain.
No.
Not until I talk to Liam and hash everything out.
Family comes first.
No matter how much the three of them piss me off—and Jesus Christ, they do—taking care of them has been my sole responsibility ever since my mom died and my father became a ghost.
No matter how much I want to throw in the towel and say fuck it some days, I can’t.
I’m all they have left.
The fight with Liam last night was bad, but it’s not irreparable.
My mom used to tell me that every sunrise brought a brand-new day and a chance to start over.
After tossing the covers off, I throw on a t-shirt and some sweatpants.
It’s the weekend, which means everyone but the sperm donor is home and when they wake up, they’ll be hungry.
I contemplate knocking on Liam’s door when I pass his bedroom but think better of it because I know he—along with my sister Bianca—like to sleep in for as long as humanly possible on the weekends.
Since it’s barely seven, I jog down the stairs instead.
Cole’s already sitting at the table shoving cereal into his mouth when I enter the kitchen. It’s no surprise, since we’re the early birds of the family. It’s one of the only non-physical traits we share with our dickhead father.
“Hey.”
He makes a noise in the back of his throat before he lifts the bowl to his mouth, finishing off the leftover milk.
“If you’re still hungry, I’m making breakfast.”
I grab some butter, milk, and a carton of eggs from the fridge. Then I reach into the cupboard and take out a box of pancake mix.
Pancakes and eggs are Liam’s favorite, and I’m hoping it will be a good enough olive branch for him to want to talk.
Cole’s expression is sour as he peruses the items on the island. “I hate pancakes.”
“I know.”
His eyes narrow. “Pancakes are Liam’s favorite.”
I grit my teeth. Cole needs to get over this internal competition he has with Liam.
“I know.” I crack two eggs over a frying pan and stir in some milk. “I’ll make you some scrambled eggs.”
“I don’t like scrambled eggs.”
Christ almighty. I started the day with only one fuck to give and he’s already pissing on it. “You liked them last week.”
“Not true.” Crossing his arms, he leans back in his seat. “Come on, Jace. What’s my favorite breakfast food?”
“Pretty soon it’s going to be your face in a pan of yolk.” I crack open three more eggs and add some seasoning. “You’ve always liked scrambled eggs.”
“Yeah, Mom’s scrambled eggs.”
Sorry, asshole. Last I checked, Heaven doesn’t deliver.
“What do you want to eat, Cole?”
“My favorite breakfast food.”
This has turned into some kind of test I’m doomed to fail. “Fine. Since it’s no longer scrambled eggs, what’s your new favorite?”
Smugly, he pushes his cereal bowl away. “Frittatas and crème brûlée.”
Scrambled eggs it is. “You’ve never had a frittata in your life. Also, crème brûlée isn’t a breakfast food, it’s dessert. And just so we’re clear—I’m not a motherfucking chef so either eat the shit I’m making or don’t.”
“Why is everyone still yelling?” Bianca whines as she plops down on the seat next to Cole.
“Because Jace likes Liam more than he likes me.”
“That’s not—”
“Duh.” She fishes an apple out of the fruit basket. “Everyone likes Liam more.”
He sulks. “Mom didn’t. I was her favorite.”
Bianca starts laughing. “No—”
“Bianca.” I give her a warning look. “Cut it out.”
If Cole wants to believe he was Mom’s favorite, I won’t correct him.
Truth be told, she coddled Liam way more. But it’s only because Liam was what she referred to as high maintenance and he needed the extra attention.
When Cole started acting out—no doubt trying to steal Liam’s thunder—she was already giving birth to Bianca and finally had the little girl she always wanted. Her focus was divided even more.
I guess I can see why Cole has a jealous streak.
I need to nip this shit in the bud before it gets out of hand. “Why don’t you, me, and Liam hang out today?”
Bianca screws up her face. “What about me?”
“Duh,” I say, repeating her new favorite word. “We can call Mrs. Garcia and ask her to take us to the mall.” I place the eggs on a large dish. “Or we can go to the movies.”
“Those are Liam’s favorite things,” Cole grumps.
Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “We can toss a football around the backyard for a little while before we leave.”
Where Liam despises sports, Cole can’t seem to get enough of them. Especially football. Kid’s got a killer arm.
That gets a smile out of him. “Okay.” He looks at Bianca. “Think Liam will cry like last time?”
“Only if you throw the football at his face again.”
Cole contemplates this. “Good idea.”
“Will you stop?” I toss the dirty pan in the sink and take out a clean one. “Can we spend one damn day together without all the bullshit?”
Bianca nudges Cole with her elbow. “What’s his problem? He’s moodier than usual.”
I pour the pancake mix into a bowl. “I can still hear you, you know.”
Ignoring me, Cole leans over and says, “Jace and Dylan hooked up last night at the dance and Liam lost his shit.”
“Why?” She grimaces. “Jace and Dylan have been making googly eyes at each other for months.” She swipes a few grapes from the basket. “I can’t believe Liam actually thought he stood a chance.”
So help me God, I’m going to dump this damn batter over their heads.
“Here’s a great idea. How about we not talk about this?”
Bianca makes kissing noises. “But you and Dylan are in love.”
Dig the knife deeper, kid.
“No, we’re not.” I clear my throat. “We’re uh…we’re taking a break.” I stir harder. “Until Liam…you know.”
Doesn’t hate me for stealing his girl.
“Gives you his permission?” Bianca probes.
“More or less,” I mutter.
“That’s dumb,” Cole declares. “Liam needs to suck it up. The world doesn’t revolve around him.”
I’m starting to suspect Cole coming to my defense last night had more to do with his annoyance toward Liam than it did with helping me.