“A good man.”
He laughs, but there’s no humour in it. “I’m not a good man, Pip. Not at all.”
“You are. I can tell.” I shift on the sofa and take his face in my hands. “I’ve learnt that not everyone can be trusted, Jem. I know that people pretend to be who they’re not. They put on a mask for the world, let them see the front they want to present, not the real them. You don’t wear a mask. You are who you are, unapologetically so.”
His eyes scan my face, his brow drawn.
“Who pretended with you?”
“Does it matter?”
“To me, yeah.”
“The point is, I know who you are and I trust you.”
His hands skim up my back. “You can always trust me.”
“I know.”
“Angel, whatever happens, I’ll always take care of you and protect you.”
I kiss him. It’s a soft, lingering brush of our mouths, but I push all my warmth, all my emotions down that kiss.
“And I’ll always take care of you, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You’re… dating?”
I hold my breath as I wait for his response. There’s a crackle down the line as Josh huffs and then a pause before he says, “Why does everything need a fucking label?”
I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing at the ire in his tone. What a grumpy arse! I knew he was seeing this woman—Jem’s been keeping me up to date during his visits to Manchester. I can’t tell my brother that, of course, but I’m well aware of his blooming relationship with this new lady.
Over the past two weeks, Josh has been distant—Jem has not. I thought he knew about me and Jem, that I did something or slipped up somewhere, and I was getting worried, but Jem told me when they were painting Lace, there was an employee there—Paige—who Josh was a little… well, closer to than was right for a boss to be. He didn’t use that exact wording, obviously. He was a lot more crass, but he implied my brother was infatuated with this woman. He also insinuated it was probably the reason our communication was a little on the cooler side.
I tried not to take that to heart, but I did. I’m busy with a new man, but I’m still finding time to send a text message or call. That said, I haven’t exactly been a frequent visitor to Kingsley since I left either. I must try harder, too.
“I don’t think everything does need a label, Joshua, but is that what you’re doing with Paige? Are you dating?”
He hesitates. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is, but what does that mean?”
“I don’t know, Pipes, she’s an employee. I’m her boss.”
“You’ve already slept with her,” I surmise, grinning.
He makes an irritated noise down the phone. “I didn’t say that.”
I laugh. “You have, haven’t you?”
“We shagged before she came to work for me,” he reluctantly admits. “The night of my welcome home party, in fact. Then she walked into Lace looking for work. I wanted to kick her arse right out the door, but Paige is a fucking good dancer and I need the staff.”
Hmm. I think back to the night of his welcome home party, and the fact his door was closed when I got home. Was she there when I was? I’m glad I saw nothing. No amount of bleach would clean that from my brain.
It was also the night Jem fucked me against the wall outside the clubhouse…
My neck heats at this, as my memory stirs, recalling what he did.
“You like her?”
“Yeah.”
“Then what’s the problem.”
“Why are we even talking about this shit? I’m not one of your girly mates. I don’t need to ‘talk it out’.”
“No, but you’re my brother, and I’m interested in your life.”
There’s a pause, then, “Oh.”
I can almost hear the cogs turning in his brain as he digests this thought. I can feel my own guilt splashing like acid through my stomach about the whopping secrets I’m keeping from him. I’m such a hypocrite. Then again, I’m fairly certain my big brother is keeping his own secrets. He seems… out of sorts almost. Edgy. Tired. Wary. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something going on with him. He seems almost drained beneath the happy glow of starting something new with this woman. The paradox is troubling, but since I’m keeping my own huge secret, I’m not about to judge him for keeping his.
“Yeah, I like her, but shit’s complicated.”
Isn’t it always? I don’t even want to think about how complicated things are when it comes to me and Jem, but there definitely is something there between us. Does it have the potential to be something good, something long-term? I’m not sure yet. He seems to think so, but I’m more cautiously optimistic. In my experience, people don’t tend to stick around, so I’m not banking on the fact Jem will either, but we’ll see.
Josh lets out a breath, bringing my attention back to the current conversation. “I want to see you, Pipe, I really do, but things are crazy around here at the moment with Lace and… Club stuff.”
Disappointment swells in me, but I’m also a little relieved. I’m not sure I can hold up the pretence of being around Jem and acting like he means nothing to me in front of people. I know we agreed to play it cool until we know where things are going with us, but sneaking around is not as much fun as it sounds. Josh giving me a free pass to avoid him a little longer is actually a weight off my shoulders.
“It’s okay, I get it. Life gets busy. Just let me know when you’re free.”
“I don’t want you to think I don’t want to see you.”
This warms me and makes my guilt intensify. Yes, I am the worst sister. “I don’t think that. Besides, I know what it’s like juggling a new relationship. Enjoy it.”
He snorts. “Yeah, well, a relationship might be overstating shit, but we’ll see.”
“Just turn all your charm on, Josh, and she won’t be able to resist you.”
“Charm… right.”
He sounds amused by this concept. I’m not surprised. Charm is not something my brother particularly exudes. He’s more a brooding type.
“Anyway, enough about me. Are you doing okay?”
“I’m fine.” It’s not entirely true, but I tell him this anyway. I don’t want him to worry, nor do I need him riding down here trying to fix things.
“Fine? That’s all you’re saying? Kid, you’re going to have to give me more than that.”
“Spectacular, stupendous, splendiferous.”
He makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “Let’s go back to fine.”
I laugh a little. “Things are good, Josh. Really.”
Apart from my stepfather and mother being insane and the fact I’m carrying on with one of your brothers behind your back.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it.” There’s a pause and I think the line has gone dead until he says, “I can’t believe I’m even going to fucking ask this, but what about you? You… uh… dating?”
Shit.
This is an outright question—one I’m going to have to lie to his face about. I wince as I say, “No, Josh, my love life is still as dead as the proverbial dodo.”
I’m going to hell…
“Good,” he mutters, “keep it that way.”
I don’t know why, but his response slightly irritates me. It’s not like I’m fifteen-years-old. I’m a grown woman—who is currently lying about who she’s sleeping with.
“I’m not a nun,” I tell him. “There have been men.”
Not that many, but there have been some. I didn’t go to bed with Jem some sacrificial virgin, despite what he might like to think. I was more than aware of what I was doing in that department.
“Jesus fuck, Piper. Stop. I don’t need to hear this.”
He sounds disturbed, and it warms me a little. It’s such a typically big brother response. I’ve noticed over the last few weeks he’s doing more and more of these things, seemingly without noticing, falling na
turally into that brotherly role. I can’t say I don’t love it, although I do wonder how much of a gasket he’s going to blow later down the line when me and Jem finally come clean—if me and Jem actually work out, that is.
“Well,” I say, “I didn’t realise you were so delicate.”
“I’m not,” he protests, “but the last thing I want to hear about is my sister with men.”
“I wasn’t planning on telling you about the finer details, Josh.”
“Good,” he says, “because you start talking about that shit and I’m going to have to start hurting people.”
“Is that why you warned all your brothers to stay away from me?” I ask quietly. “Or was it because I’m not good enough for them?”
“Fuck? What? Pipe, no. They’re not good enough for you. I don’t want their grubby fucking hands anywhere near you. You’re far too pure for those dirty bastards. Why? Have any of them tried anything? I’ll kill them.”
Only Jem, and I very much like what he tried.
“You don’t have to protect me, Josh. I’m not a little girl and I don’t need you to ride in on your steed and save me. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it a long time.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t need to now. You’ve got me.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I had him before, when I was younger, and he walked away then, but I don’t. It’s in the past, and dredging it up isn’t going to change things—not if we’re going to move forward. Josh seems like he’s trying to make amends and I want for him and me to have a relationship, which isn’t going to happen if I can’t let go of what happened before.
“I know.”
“Hey, kid, I’ve got to go. You need me, call.”
“Yeah, you too. Don’t push yourself too hard. You’re still recovering.”
“You worry too much.”
I don’t think I worry enough, but I say, “Probably, speak soon.”
“Yeah, later.”
He hangs up and I try not to let my guilt wash over me again. Everything will come right in the end.
I fire off a message to Jem, just checking in, making sure he’s okay and then head up to the shower. He’s tied up with Club stuff this weekend, so I can’t see him until midweek, which is rotten, but it’s one of those things. Considering he’s doing all the travelling lately, I’m not going to give him a hard time about it. I did offer to come to him, but he won’t hear it, and honestly, I don’t want to get caught at his place by someone we know. It would raise too many questions about why I’m there and not staying with my brother. Plus, here, in Manchester, we can be together without risk, and that enables us to relax together.
I’ve just pulled on some clean skinny jeans and a loose sweater when there’s a knock on the door. Since Cami forgets or loses her keys at least once a week, I assume it’s her, so I wander across the main living area of the loft bare footed and open the door without much thought. I should have checked the peep hole. Standing on the other side of the door is my stepfather.
Grant, as always, looks perfectly put together. His suit is smart—designer, no doubt—his shirt undone at the collar, no tie, but it’s not meant to be worn with one. He’s wearing a thick black leather belt with a silver buckle, and a matching shade of leather shoes that are too shiny. His salt and pepper hair is swept back, but it’s not quite as styled as usual. In fact, on closer inspection my stepfather looks a tad frazzled. There’s a hint of tension just beneath the surface that suggests he’s not quite as in control as usual. This puts me on edge. I’m used to Grant being entirely in command of everything he does.
“I’m just heading out, so whatever you want will have to wait,” I lie, my heartbeat picking up its pace.
I don’t care if my tone is abrupt either. I don’t want to be left alone with him in the loft. Grant puts me on edge, unsurprisingly, given he slapped Mum and marked my arm when he grabbed me. He’s always been so predictable in his behaviour, so this new unpredictability is unsettling.
He pushes inside without invitation. “I need a word.”
“Hey! I told you I’m busy, and you can’t just come in without asking!”
My voice is pitched far too high as I step back to avoid being trampled by him, but my fear kicks up a notch as he kicks the front door closed behind him. The last thing I need is to be shut inside with him. I move back a few more paces to give a little more distance between us, then cross my arms over my chest as I perfect a look of supreme irritation, even as my pulse races. This is not good.
“I’d like you to leave.”
He ignores my request.
“I’m disappointed, Piper. Your behaviour lately hasn’t been what I would expect.”
His tone riles me. It’s sweet, almost cloying, and irritating.
“I’m not one of your staff members, Grant. I don’t have to do what you command, and as I told Mum, I’m done playing your games. I don’t want to be a part of whatever schemes you’re cooking up. It’s over. You’re both welcome to each other, but leave me out of it.”
“My reputation means everything to me, Piper. You know this. I’ve told you time and time again over the years how important it is to me. No more so than during local election term. Yet you’re running around with a biker gang.”
“They’re a club,” I correct.
“What?” he sounds irritated by my interruption.
“They’re a club, not a gang.”
He waves this off. “They’re a bunch of thugs.”
“Says the man who thinks nothing about hitting women.”
The look he fires at me has me shuffling back on my feet. I should probably mind my tongue, considering I’m in the loft alone with him and I have no idea when Cami is due back.
“I don’t have to explain my actions to you, Piper, but I have explained them—several times.”
“There’s nothing you can say to justify it.”
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” he moves into the room, picking up a stack of mail on the end table near the door. It’s mostly Cami’s private correspondence, which makes his intrusion annoying.
“Do you mind?” I snap at him.
Casually, he tosses the envelopes back on to the table.
“You’re not nearly as clever as you think.”
“I’m cleverer than you. I was out of town for eight weeks before you even noticed I was gone, and you only noticed because somebody else told you.” I don’t hold back my vitriol. “I understand that I’m just a commodity to you, Grant, something to get out whenever you need a premade family to wheel out in front of the cameras, but I’m tired of playing the dutiful stepdaughter. I wasn’t joking when I told Mum I’m done. I really am. So, unless there’s a reason for this visit, you need to leave.”
“Yes, Farrah told me that you threw down a ton of attitude and demanded to be left alone. I have to admit, I was very disappointed to hear you didn’t heed my warning. I’m also disappointed that you didn’t show either your mother or I more respect for the things we’ve done for you growing up.”
I grunt at this. “Like controlling me? Forcing me to be your good little lapdog.”
He lets out a fatigued sigh. “Good lord, the dramatics never end with you women. Hardly. You carry on as if you grew up in indentured servitude. Being asked to attend the occasional function or event or photo shoot is hardly a chore.”
“No, but being paraded around like a prized mare for yours and Mum’s gratification is. And what about being practically forced to marry Francis?” I hiss at him.
I finally get a response from him. He flushes a deep crimson. It’s the first time he’s ever shown any sign of embarrassment for his part in that shit show. Good, he should be ashamed, since him and Mum practically forced Francis on me, even though I had no interest in him and made my feelings on the matter absolutely crystal clear.
“He was a nice boy. You would have made a lovely couple.”
“I didn’t love him or want him.”
“No, Grant, parents love their children and nurture them. They don’t treat them as photo ops. They certainly don’t try to marry them off to men who will help further their fucking careers! You don’t love me, Grant. You never have. I’m the selling point in your campaign trail—that’s all. I make you sympathetic. You’re the man raising a deadbeat dad’s kid. That’s all.”
He stares at me a moment, before he says, “Yes, well, you always did see too much.”
This confirmation, even though I suspected it, hurts. I keep my expression neutral even though pain lances through my chest.
“And this is why I want nothing to do with you and Mum.”
“I can’t say I don’t find this response disappointing, Piper. Our arrangement benefits us all.”
“It benefits you. I get nothing out of it.”
“Wrong. You get plenty out of it—things you don’t even know you get.”
I have no idea what this means.
He leans back against the wall, his easy stance annoying. “Things are happening, Piper, things that are not in my control.”
“Well, that’s cryptic, and I really don’t care. I wish you all the best with your future endeavour to reach Westminster, Downing Street, or the moon, or wherever it is you’re aiming to get to, but I will not be a part of it.”
“I’m not talking about my political career.” He scrubs a hand over his face and for a moment he looks worried. “I made a few bad business decisions—ones that may come back on me.”
I wonder if this is what Mum and Grant were arguing about the day he hit her. They were fighting about something he’d got in deep with, but I never found out what. Frankly, I’m not sure I care—although, as much as I want to think this is true, I can’t completely switch off from their plight. I’m not a monster and they are still my parents.
Even so, I’m not a doormat. Not anymore. “And why is this my problem?”
“It’s not.”
Grant’s easy demeanour gets my back up.
“So, why are you telling me?”
“The people I’m dealing with are not the friendliest, nor the most forgiving. They’re not exactly pleased with me, Piper.”
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