I couldn’t help being still shocked at Madoc and Fallon getting married when they were eighteen. First year in college, and they’d never even dated each other. But so far, so good. They kept an apartment in Chicago, where they lived while they attended Northwestern during the school year, and they spent their summers either traveling or at their house here in Shelburne Falls.
“Listen,” Madoc started, looking between me and the table. “Fallon wanted me to talk to you about something.”
I raised my eyebrows, noticing Madoc was staring at the table, mulling over a shot when he was already whipping my butt, because I was too preoccupied trying not to stare at K.C.
And when Madoc couldn’t meet my eyes, I knew he was having trouble saying what needed to be said, which was also probably something I didn’t want to hear.
So I waited.
He leaned down to take his shot. “She knows you’re working for her father, Jax. Ciaran Pierce might be a nice guy, but he’s a dangerous man. What are you doing?”
I hooded my eyes, bracing myself.
“Jax?” Madoc prompted, and I could tell he was looking at me. “Fallon doesn’t like it. Hell, I don’t like it. And Jared definitely won’t like it.”
I straightened my back, his chiding backing me into a fucking wall.
Of course Jared wouldn’t understand. He was perfect. He did right even when he was doing wrong. He judged, laid down the law, and called the shots according to his assessment of how he thought things should be. There was no gray area with my brother.
So I had learned a long time ago not to tell him certain things. He didn’t know what I did in Chicago on my nights alone in the city. He didn’t know that I used my computer skills to hack and create illegal software for Fallon’s father, who lived in Boston and worked outside the law.
And he didn’t know what had happened in that basement at our father’s house six years ago.
“Jared sees everything as black and white,” I said, leaning down to take my shot. “There’s just no talking to him about some things.”
“He’s your brother, and I’m your friend. We have your best interest at heart.”
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Because I’m too young to take care of myself?”
Walking to the wall, I sat down on a stool and slouched with my hands in my pockets.
“I may be a whole year younger,” I explained, “but I’m also bigger and have taken more hits than the two of you combined. I’ve been feeding myself since I was five, and you don’t even want to know how, so just stay off my back.”
Awareness vibrated off my skin, and I knew others in the room had heard me, but I didn’t give a shit. My brother and Madoc—as much as they tried to act otherwise—had no fucking clue how sick the world was. Who cared how I made my money as long as I ate?
When they were five they were raiding their refrigerators, trying to decide between the orange soda and the grape soda. I was rummaging through the trash for my father’s leftover McDonald’s and drinking beer because the water had been turned off.
And while Jared’s mom—Katherine—was as close as I’d ever had to a mom, I wasn’t about to be a burden on her even though I knew she didn’t see it that way. She tried spoiling me with clothes and gadgets she thought I’d enjoy, but I spoiled her right back. I had to pay my way.
Madoc narrowed his eyes, probably stunned by my sudden irritation. He wasn’t used to it, but I didn’t feel bad. Questioning my decisions was an insult.
“Jax—,” Madoc started.
“Don’t,” I cut him off. “I don’t want your sympathy, and I don’t want your concern, so fuck off.” Every muscle in my face tightened. “I just want you to shut your mouth and go back to worrying about what kind of board shorts you’re going to wear for your next trip to Cancún, okay?”
He looked away, sucking in an angry breath and hardening his eyes. Placing the cue back on the rack, he stopped in front of me on his way out of the room.
“You’re my brother,” he pointed out in a low voice. “You have choices now. That’s all I’m going to say.”
And I watched him leave, knowing that he was right. I had opportunities, chances, and lifelines. I wasn’t back in the foster homes I’d spent years in, and I wasn’t living a nightmare in my father’s twisted house anymore.
And that was why I did what I did for Fallon’s father. To make sure I never lived like that again.
K.C. was AWOL.
Absent without leave, and she’d better not have left, because I’d damn well climb through Tate’s French doors tonight if I had to.
Madoc had brought shit up I didn’t want to think about tonight, and I really just wanted to see K.C.’s pouty little lips and pretty eyes right now.
Where the hell was she?
No lights were on next door.
Climbing the stairs, I saw a couple going at it in Katherine’s old room, so I shut the door and checked my room. Not that she’d be in there, but it couldn’t hurt to hope.
Empty. People knew my room was off-limits.
I heard a door behind me open up, and I turned around to see her stepping out of the bathroom down the hall.
She lifted her eyes, spotted me, and halted.
“I thought you left,” I called out.
She stayed there, looking as if she’d stopped breathing and was afraid to meet my eyes. She rubbed the toes on one foot over the ankle of the other, scratching, and I had to clench my fists to keep from adjusting myself. Every fucking little gesture she did turned me on, and I was glad she didn’t know her power.