We Don't Talk Anymore

by Julie Johnson

  My patience is wearing dangerously thin. “How much I appreciate Jo is really none of your business.”

  They shrug in unison. “It is if you want to know where she went.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  “I do appreciate her,” I growl. “More than you’ll ever know.”

  Odette leans in. “Then why have you been ignoring her existence the past few weeks?”

  “And why didn’t you ask her to prom?” Ophelia jumps in. “Now she’s totally dateless on extremely short notice!”

  My brows furrow in confusion. Jo doesn’t care about school dances. She once told me she’d rather gouge her own eyes out than attend one. Last month, she said the very sight of ticket stands popping up around the halls gave her — and I quote — worse nausea than a drunken cheerleader swaying to tacky slow songs on a party cruise around the Atlantic.

  Needless to say, the news that she wants me to ask her — badly enough to mention it to the Wadell twins, of all people — is making my mind spin.

  “But…” I shake my head to clear it. “Jo doesn’t care about prom.”

  “You idiot!” Odette smacks my arm. “Of course she does! Every girl cares about her senior prom. She’s just playing it cool. Probably because the person she wants to go with hasn’t asked her yet.”

  Ophelia shoots me a pointed look. “That would be you, dumbass.”

  I rub the back of my neck and exhale sharply. “I didn’t realize.”

  “That you’re a dumbass?”

  “That she wanted to go,” I grunt.

  Odette giggles. “So… does that mean you’re going to ask her?”

  “Not sure how that decision concerns anyone except Jo.”

  “Um, because if you aren’t asking her, we’re going to find her a different date,” Ophelia informs me, waving her phone in my face. “A hot one. We’ve already texted her picture to, like, ten potential guys from Pingree and St. John’s Prep.”

  I glance up at the ceiling, wishing like hell I’d never started this conversation. I speak through clenched teeth. “I can’t ask her anything if you don’t tell me where she went.”

  The twins look at each other. Finally, Ophelia rolls her eyes and mutters, “We don’t know where she went. She left with some guy.”

  “She left?”

  “Mhm. She said he was giving her a ride home.”

  My pulse kicks into higher gear. “When?”

  “Like… thirty minutes ago, maybe?”

  “What guy? Snyder?”

  Odette shakes her head. “No, Ryan got wasted within, like, five minutes of getting here. Bad batch of mushrooms, I guess. He’s passed out on a patio lounger.”

  The relief I feel is short-lived. “If she’s not with Snyder, who the fuck is she with?”

  “We already told you, we don’t know! We’ve never seen this guy before.” Ophelia puffs on her vape. Her eyes are bloodshot. “He was pretty sexy, though.”

  Christ.

  “You two claim you’re friends with Jo now,” I snap. “If that was actually the case, you’d be looking out for her. Not letting her leave with some random guy.”

  “We’re her friends, not her mother.” Odette rolls her eyes. “Loosen up, Archie.”

  “Fuck you, Odette.”

  “Rude!” Tossing her hair dramatically, she turns her back on me and stomps over to the pool table.

  Ophelia lingers a moment longer, staring at me. Her head tilts in contemplation. “The guy she left with… he looked a lot like you, now that I think about it.” She pauses to take another hit of her JUUL. “Do you happen to have a brother?”

  The air vacates my lungs in a panicked gust.

  I race home as fast as I can. I don’t worry about getting pulled over. All my thoughts are reserved for Jaxon.

  Jaxon and Jo.

  Together.

  If he lays a finger on her, I swear to God…

  Five miles has never felt quite so far.

  My foot presses harder against the accelerator. With a white-knuckled grip on my steering wheel, I blow through a stop sign. I take turns on two wheels, ignoring every speed limit and school zone.

  At the front gates of Cormorant House, my brakes screech to a stop with a shower of pea stone. Leaning half out my window, I punch in the access code with impatient fingers. As soon as the wrought-iron swings wide, I floor it once more, barreling onto the property like my life depends on it.

  Like Jo’s life depends on it.

  Beneath my boiling anxiety, a deep rage simmers. I’m so furious, I can barely see straight. After all I’ve done to keep her out of harm’s way… Jaxon comes along and drags her into it without thinking twice.

  I shouldn’t be surprised — he’s never given much thought to anyone’s interests except his own. Never given much thought to anything, really, except where his next fix is coming from.

  Don’t get me wrong, I do love my brother. I never blamed him for his addiction. After all, he was no more aware than any of us that a shoulder injury at a JV soccer game would wind up being the gateway to a world of pharmaceuticals. He had no idea, as he swallowed down his doctor-approved Vicodin, that he’d crave the high it delivered long after his prescription ran out and his pain was gone.

  The problem is, addicts don’t take drugs for physical pain. They take it to soothe something deeper inside, where no one else can see.

  I know that.

  I don’t judge him for it.

  I would forgive him almost anything.

  I would absolve him of whatever he did to hurt me.

  But not to her.

  Because if he harms a single hair on Josephine Valentine’s head… I’ll kill him with my bare hands.

  First, though, I need to find him.

  My parents are at the cottage; I doubt he’d go there. I head for the main estate, slowing only slightly as I round the first bend of the circular driveway. Cormorant House comes into view, a dark silhouette in the distance.

  My eyes move automatically to Jo’s suite on the second floor. Her window is dark. In fact, every window in the mansion is dark. Even the porch light is off. The stairs sit in shadow when I pull up before them.

  Maybe he took her somewhere else.

  When I spot the empty maroon sedan parked beneath a tree on the side of the house, its paint chipping into patches of rust, I know that’s not the case. It belongs to Jax; I’d stake my soul on it.

  My pulse is erratic when I shut the engine and bolt from the truck. I bound up the steps in three giant strides. I can’t think clearly enough to form a real plan. All I know is, I need to find Jo. To make sure she’s all right. Whatever happens after that is a secondary concern.

  I’m barely breathing as my hand closes over the front door handle and tugs.

  Locked.

  I begin to knock — tentatively, at first, then louder when a minute passes without answer.

  “Jo!” I call, resting my forehead against the thick wood. I strain to hear any signs of life inside. “Jo, open up! It’s me.” My voice breaks. “It’s Archer.”

  She’s a light sleeper. She’d hear me knocking, I’m certain of it. So she’s either ignoring me… or she’s not here.

  Where the hell did he take her?

  Cursing under my breath, I pull out my phone and call her again. Like the last three times, it goes straight to voicemail. I jog around the terrace to try the back door, but it’s locked as well. Cupping my hands around my eyes, I peer through the glass, into the dark kitchen. I can’t see a damn thing.

  “She’s not in there,” a voice says casually from behind me.

  I go tense, my muscles turning to stone.

  I know that voice.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I spin around to face my brother. My hands curl into fists at my sides as I take in the sight of him. There are a few more tattoos decorating his arms than the last time I saw him, but otherwise he looks exactly the same.

  Tousled hair. Furrowed brow. Sharp gaze.

  �
�Jaxon.”

  “What — no welcome-home hug?” His lips twist. “Thought you’d be happy to see me, hermanito.”

  “I doubt that very much, seeing as last time you were home, I threw you out on your ass.”

  The memory of that night — when I caught him stealing money from our parents’ stash of petty cash and tossed him out the front door, into the dirt — hangs heavily in the air between us. It always will. That’s not the kind of encounter you ever truly move past.

  “Oh, I remember.” He takes a step closer. His eyes never shift from mine. “How could I forget such a moment of brotherly bonding?”

  “Cut the shit, Jaxon. Where is she?”

  “Your precious Jo? Why?” He laughs. “Don’t tell me you think I’m capable of hurting her.”

  “I don’t know what you’re capable of, Jax. I don’t know you anymore. I haven’t for a long time.”

  “By all means, don’t dance around my feelings.”

  “Do you have feelings?” My brows lift. “Forgive me. I wasn’t aware that a guy like you was capable of feeling anything.”

  “A guy like me?”

  “Yeah. You know — one who’d endanger the lives of his entire family to save himself.”

  “I warned you,” he snaps. “Last month, when I came home—”

  “To steal money.”

  “—to pack my clothes, I told you things were messed up. I told you to be careful.”

  “Messed up? Messed up?!” I step forward and grab him by the shirtfront, my fingers fisting in the fabric. “Two gang members have been following me for weeks. They ambushed me after practice last week and almost shattered my pitching hand.” My grip tightens. I want to physically shake some sense into him. “Four days ago, they broke into our house, knocked me unconscious, tied me to a chair, and threatened my life. Our parents’ lives. All because they’re determined to get to you, Jax.” I drop my arms to my sides, disgusted. “That’s far more than just messed up.”

  He grimaces, but offers no response. Not even an apology.

  “You don’t seem surprised to hear any of this,” I point out.

  He shoves past me and starts to pace. “The guys who came here… Did you get their names?”

  “Rico. Barboza.”

  Jaxon nods. His skin is wan in the moonlight, his face bloodless with fear. He continues to walk tight loops around the terrace. “They’re top enforcers for the Latin Kings. Not the kind of people you want to fuck around with, Archer.”

  “Since when has what I want ever been a factor here? I didn’t exactly invite them over for tea and crumpets.”

  “I know! I know.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated, all right? I owe their boss a debt. I thought when I got out, I could pay it off gradually. Or, if I couldn’t get the money, I’d just… disappear for a while.”

  Rage swells inside my chest. “That was your grand plan? You thought you could just go off the grid until a goddamn gang forgot about you? Jesus Christ, Jaxon! Did you really believe, if these guys are as dangerous as you say they are, they’d let you skip into the sunset without coming after your family?”

  “Don’t yell at me.” He presses a hand to his temple, his movements jerky. “I can’t think when you’re yelling.”

  Suspicion stirs to life as I watch him. The jerkiness of his movements. The erratic speech pattern. I’ve seen it all before — far too many times. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but I’m certain if I looked close enough, I’d find his pupils constricted to pinpricks.

  “Are you high right now?”

  He glowers. “Fuck you, Archer!”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  He’s tellingly silent.

  I step forward, feeling hollow. My voice is stark as I ask again,“Are you high?”

  “Look, just… lay off me, okay? I’m under an insane amount of pressure right now.” His eyes dart around the yard, avoiding mine. “You don’t understand what I’m going through.”

  I do understand, though. All too well.

  He’s using again.

  Oxy. Vicodin. Whatever he could get his hands on.

  “God fucking damnit, Jax!”

  I’m overcome with the urge to hit something. Hard. I clench my fingernails into my palms instead, scoring rows of half-moons across my flesh. Past experience tells me there’s no use in reasoning with him — not while he’s high. Using logic on a junkie is like speaking Latin to a toddler.

  An experiment in frustration.

  Jaxon shakes his head rapidly. “You don’t understand. You’ve never understood.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “Prison!” he shouts. “You have no idea what it was like, being locked up in a place like that. Surrounded by the worst sort of people. Falling asleep at night behind bars, wondering whether the next day will be your last. Knowing you’ve got to do something, anything, to protect yourself — even make an alliance with monsters.” He stares at me, his face a mask of scorn. “How could you possibly understand that, Archer? Look at your life!”

  “My life?”

  He gestures around at the beautifully manicured lawn, sloping down toward the sea. “Look at this place! Every day, you wake up in paradise. You grew up in a fucking fairy tale, Archer. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

  “Last I checked, you spent your childhood here too, Jax.”

  “Yeah, but it was different for you.”

  “You’re rewriting history. I might’ve grown up in a castle, but we both know I sleep in the servants quarters. I’m the fucking help, not heir to any throne.” I glare at him. “Don’t act like I’ve lived some life of privilege. Don’t act like I had any more opportunities than you.”

  “But you did. You still do!” He turns his face away, but I can hear the resentment in his voice. “You have private school. You have baseball. You have scholarships. You have a way out.”

  “A way out I fucking earned, Jaxon! You may not want to hear it, but our lives are a reflection of our choices. You made yours; I made mine. Don’t resent me for taking a different path, just because yours led somewhere you don’t like anymore.”

  “Here we go again. Perfect Archer, the golden boy, the good son. Pointing out all my fuck-ups.”

  “Me, the golden boy?” I scoff. “That’s rich. You’re all Ma and Pa ever talk about. You’re the subject of every conversation, even when you aren’t there. The more poison you put in your veins, the more determined they become to save you from yourself. And as for your fuck-ups? I don’t need to point them out, Jaxon. You do that all on your own, every time you break their hearts by lying, cheating, or stealing from them.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all before. I’m the big bad wolf, ruining the Reyes family name. Spare me the lecture, will you?”

  “This isn’t about our family name. This is about you putting everyone in your life in the crosshairs of violent criminals.”

  “I’m figuring it out! You just have to give me more time!”

  “More time isn’t going to help, Jax. You knew about this when you got out of Cedar-Junction. As far as I can tell, the only thing you’ve done in the two months since then is get high and go into hiding. Not necessarily in that order.”

  “I’ll talk to Rico. Okay? I’ll get them to back off.”

  “How? Enlighten me. Because they didn’t give the impression they’d back off for anything less than your full cooperation.” I pause, my mind spinning a million different directions. “Maybe if you talked to your parole officer, the police could get you some kind of deal as an informant. Witness protection or—”

  “No. I’d be dead before I opened my mouth.”

  “The police could protect you.”

  “There’s no protection from this! Don’t you understand?” He runs his hands through his hair until it’s sticking up in several directions. “These guys will kill everyone. Me. You. Ma. Pa. Everyone.”

  Rico promised me as much; clearly, he wasn’t bluffi
ng.

  “Fine. No police.” I take a deep breath. “What’s your backup plan?”

  Jaxon is no longer meeting my eyes. He stares toward the tennis courts, his face pallid. “The Kings mostly circulate heroin and fentanyl. They make a killing in more rural parts of the state, but they don’t have a strong foothold this far north of Boston yet. Most kids up here stick to the basics — shrooms, ecstasy, molly, pot. Whatever’s floating around the party scene.” He shifts his weight from foot to foot. “If I can create demand for the more intense product… get fentanyl flowing freely in these circles… I think it’ll be enough to clear my debts.”

  My brows furrow. “So you’re going to deal for them? Get a whole generation of my classmates hooked on drugs that will ruin their futures? Sign them up for a lifetime of misery and pain, just to save your own skin?” I can’t keep the utter disdain out of my voice. “Jesus, Jaxon. You’ve made some questionable decisions in the past, but I thought you at least had a moral compass. This is… beyond awful. Even for you.”

  “It’s either deal for them or pay them off! And I don’t know about you, Archer, but I don’t have that kind of capital.” His eyes move toward Cormorant House, lingering on the glass panes of the back door. “There’s only one person I know who might.”

  “So that’s why you went after Jo tonight. You think you can extort money from her? Somehow convince her parents to pay off your debts?”

  “No! No. It was just pure chance, seeing her at the party tonight. I was catching up with a few old friends, smoking a little weed… She was with some Ken Doll douchebag who wasn’t taking no for an answer, if you know what I mean. I stepped in. Made sure he got the message, loud and clear.”

  “Snyder,” I hiss under my breath, seeing red.

  He’s a dead man.

  I struggle to rein in my emotions.

  “You should be thanking me, not yelling at me,” Jaxon prattles on, his words running together. “If I hadn’t been there, things might’ve gone very differently for Josephine.”

  I take a step toward him. “I think I’ll save the appreciation parade for after you tell me what you’ve done with her.”