When I cracked the eggs into the center of the pan, they sizzled as they hit the heat. I glanced over to see Alex was awake and sitting up.
“Hey, you.” I smiled. “Hungry?”
He stood up and yawned, nodding his head as he stretched out his arms. “Starving,” he admitted. “Mugs?” he asked as he walked into the kitchen. I pointed to the top cupboard.
“Smells delicious.”
“Thanks.” I began piling two plates with bacon and eggs, and placed the toast on another plate.
We carried everything over to the dining table and sat down. The room was silent as we began to eat. Not an awkward silence, where you feel like you need to fill it—almost like a contented silence.
“Thanks for staying over. You didn't have to do that,” I said, covering my mouth.
He shrugged. “It was nothing. Besides,” he added, chuckling, “you looked so sweet, asleep and snoring away, that I couldn't possibly have woken you.”
“I do not snore,” I retorted, blushing. Honestly, I had no idea whether I did or not.
He laughed, and piled another forkful of eggs into his mouth.
“Well, maybe I do, but at least I don't drool,” I grumbled.
His eyebrows shot up. “Hey, that was low!” he complained, wiping the corners of his mouth.
“What?” I shrugged. “It was cute. Reminded me of a little puppy.” I laughed.
He rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed. I was glad the tension that had been there between us the previous night had all but vanished. Things were back to the way they were before.
“So, what are your plans for today?” he asked me. I shrugged, pretending not to notice the way his tongue ran over his lip after he'd eaten. He reminded me so much of Jack that it wasn't funny. They may not have thought they were alike, but they sure as hell were.
“I don't know. I might go for a walk. And I guess I better call Jack and see if I still have a job.”
“Why wouldn't you?” he asked, confused.
“Well, because I just walked out last night. And he seemed pretty pissed.” I hesitated. “And I'm not even sure I want the damn job anymore,” I added softly.
“Rose!” he exploded.
I winced. Just the reaction I'd been expecting.
“You still have a job, and you’re going, okay?” I nodded, my eyes wide.
Damn, Alex was intimidating when he went all authoritative on my ass.
“Just go in as you normally would. I'll handle my brother.” I nodded again, wondering what “handling his brother” would entail.
Now, my version of handling Jack . . . I blushed. Why had I gone there?
After we finished breakfast and cleaned up, an act Alex had insisted on helping me with, he left, and I went upstairs to visit Darcy. Eventually she opened the door wearing her underwear and a tank top still looking half-asleep.
“Rose? What the hell? It's like . . .” Her voice trailed off as she glanced around, trying to find the time.
“Eleven in the morning?” I supplied.
She frowned at me.
“Yeah, well that might as well be six in the morning to me.” She waved me inside. “Coffee. I need coffee,” she muttered, heading for the kitchen.
I followed her, my eyes on her ass. If I looked as good as her half-naked, I'd walk around in my underwear too.
“Everything all right?” she asked, suddenly.
“Yeah. No. I'm not sure,” I admitted. I sat down on the barstool as she made the coffee. “Alex came over last night and we talked.” Darcy raised her eyebrows.
“What?” I groaned. “Talked. That's it. And mostly about Jack.”
“Uh-huh. And?” she pressed.
“He told me about his ex-girlfriend, and how she died.”
Darcy nodded sympathetically. “So sad, right? And so young. I feel so bad every time I look at him. All I think about is how hard that would have been to go through. I couldn't imagine losing Benj.”
“It is sad,” I agreed. I reached over and took the mug she had pushed across my way. “I can't do it, Darcy.”
“Do what? Jack? Honey, you've already done him.” She winked.
I laughed at her joke. “Darcy, I'm not well.” Her eyes widened. “I mean, I'm fine physically, but I have some pretty serious issues, well, mentally.”
Darcy sighed, her hand flying to her chest. “Shit, Rose. I thought you were going to tell me you have incurable cancer or something,” she said. “Honey, we all have issues. Nobody is perfect.”
“No, it's more serious than that.” I tried to get the words right in my head. “I've tried to kill myself eight times. The first time was when I was seven. The last time was about two weeks before I started at the bar.”
Darcy's eyes went even wider. She rushed around the counter and threw her arms around me.
“Oh Rose, I don't even know what to say. I mean, I knew you had issues with your parents, but I never thought this . . .”
“My parents basically disowned me when I checked myself out of the rehab facility. The same one Alex works at,” I added, laying out the dots to be connected. She led me over to the sofa.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked after we sat down. “I’ve never been suicidal, but I do know what it is like to be depressed. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through.”
“I don’t even know how to explain it. Most of the time I guess I feel okay. At least, okay enough not to off myself. I’ve never been properly diagnosed with anything other than major depression and generalized anxiety, but when I do start to feel…like that, it comes on suddenly. Without any warning.”
I was surprised at how easily the words were coming out. Darcy felt safe. I didn’t feel judged talking to her about this. It was almost a relief getting it all out.
“Is there medication? Or treatment you can try?” She blushed, looking down. “Gosh, I can be so rude sometimes Rose. Tell me to shut up. I’ll understand.”
I laughed. “Talking to you is actually helping. I never had many friends growing up. I pushed people away so they wouldn’t get close to me. You’re the first non-therapist I’ve ever spoken to about this.” I was telling her more than my own parents knew.
“Anytime you want to talk to someone, I’m here, okay?” She smiled at me and reached for my hand. “I can’t get over how strong you are.” She shook her head slowly.
Strong? That’s something I’d never attributed to myself.
I shrugged. “I don’t know about that, but I guess I’m still here. That says something.”
Darcy eyed me, her tongue running over her lips. She looked like a girl with something on her mind.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m trying not to let the morbid side of me show,” she hesitated. “How did you do it? When I hear about suicides, that’s the first thing I think of.” She threw her hands over her face. “God, don’t answer that,” her muffled voice cried.
“It’s fine Darcy. I don’t have trouble talking about it. The first time? It was pills. That was when I was seven. Then when I was eight I found some sleeping tablets and took them. When I was eleven, I discovered that cutting myself made some of the pain go away. Only I cut too deep one day and severed an artery.” That day was the closest I’d come to death. The only thing that had saved me was our extremely quick thinking Maid. “Age twelve, fifteen and sixteen were all overdoes. Mostly sleeping tablets, and some anti-anxiety meds I was on. The last attempt? Well, that’s how I got these.” I extended my wrists to show her the scars.
She gasped, her eyes filled with horror.
“I feel so upset that someone as wonderful as you would think that was your only option.” She wiped away tears. “Why?”
“Because in that moment dying didn’t seem nearly as painful as living.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. She was going to have me crying too soon. “I wish things didn’t get that bad, where killing myself feels like the best option, but I go through life feeling like it’s all an act. E
ventually that gets to me and I just want to give up the charade. My last attempt…before, when I was at college I kissed guys and I gossiped with girls—all the things you’d expect a normal twenty-two-year-old to do. It got too much. I got sick of the act, and in my warped mind, killing myself was the only way for me to be myself.” I laughed at how stupid that sounded.
“Promise me you’ll talk to me if you feel down? Or even if you just want to gossip about Jack,” she winked.
We both laughed. I wrapped my arms around her. So this was what it felt like to have a true friend.
Chapter Eighteen
Jack
Fifteen minutes early—for once—I knocked on Alex’s door.
I’d invited myself over for dinner, which Alex was more than happy to accommodate. Closing the bar a few nights a week had its advantages. I had an agenda, of course. I needed to hear it from him. My suspicions weren’t enough. I wanted to hear him say he was in love with her. The door opened and Alex stood there looking like quite the housewife in his red apron. I chuckled.
“What? I don’t want pasta sauce all over my clothes.”
I followed him into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Alex had a nice place. It was very open and uncluttered. His taste in furniture was very classy and modern. I walked over to the two matching leather armchairs that faced the television and slumped down.
“It’s almost ready.” Alex handed me the remote as he sat down and popped open his beer. Turning on the TV, I ran through the stations until I found something to watch. Old episodes of Community.
We ate dinner in front of the TV, laughing at the show. I kept waiting for the right time to broach the subject. But was there ever really a ‘right’ time to ask your brother if he was in love with the same girl you are? I placed my empty plate on the glass coffee table with more gusto than intended.
“Geez, watch it,” Alex complained.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it. Damn. This was harder than I thought it would be. I took a deep breath.
“Alex, are you in love with Rose?” Typical Jack, straight to the point. Alex quietly set his plate on top of mine. He turned to me, his expression pained.
“Why would you ask me that?”
“Because I think that you are.”
Alex shook his head. “I’m not in love with her. I care about her a lot. Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened between us if you hadn’t have come along…” His voice trailed off.
“So you could fall in love with her,” I clarified. This news didn’t make me feel any better.
“It doesn’t matter, Jack. She’s in love with you, and you’re in love with her. And I’m not in love with anyone.”
“But—.”
“No, there is nothing else to say. I love her like a friend. I don’t want to see her hurt, just like I don’t want to see you hurt. If I sometimes seem too emotionally invested in your relationship, it’s because I so badly want to see you both happy.”
“I can’t do it.” I growled suddenly.
Alex looked at me in surprise.
"I can’t go through that again, Alex. I'm so scared of losing her. Losing her now would break my heart, but letting her in and then losing her . . . what if she tries to kill herself again? Then what? I can’t do this to myself."
"I don't know, Jack. What happened with Belle was horrible, but you can’t keep that from letting you experience love again. What if you lost her without telling her how you feel? What’s worse? To love and lose, or to lose without love? The pain will still be there, regardless." Alex's words sliced through me like a scalpel, leaving a deep open wound.
We both sat there, the silence engulfing us. When did life get so fucked up? The question made me laugh. When wasn't my life fucked up was a more appropriate question. Alex glanced at me curiously.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. Just thinking about how fucked up my life is. And how it all stems back to one person."
"Mom?" Alex guessed.
I nodded. "I don't think I ever dealt with her abandoning us. And even Dad—that wound feels raw, like all I've done is covered it up. Hid it away." I looked at him, wondering if I was making any sense at all.
"I know. When I left London for here, I don't think I'd worked through any of the issues with Dad. In a sense, I suppose all I did was run away."
"And now?" I asked.
Alex thought for a moment. "I've come to terms with the fact that Dad is never going to give me closure. No matter what we do, he is not going to give us what we need to close that wound. I think once I realized that—and I mean really realized it—things became easier."
I nodded. What he was saying made sense, but I needed to do more than just hear it. I needed to believe it.
Chapter Nineteen
Jack
The laptop sat on my desk, open to Google. I sat back on the chair, my fingers strumming against my thigh. Did I really want to do this? After nearly twenty years, what could she possibly say to me that would make things right? What if I found her and she didn't even want to speak to me?
My mind wandered to Alex. He had no idea I was doing this. If she didn't want to see me, fine, I could live with that, but if she did, that wasn’t something I could keep from my brother. I felt like I was almost betraying him by going behind his back.
Fuck. Just do this, Jack.
I leaned forward and grabbed the laptop. When I plugged in my mother’s name, the screen filled with page after page. Over one million results. Great. I racked my brain, trying to think of anything that might help me. I knew that both of her parents were dead, she had no brothers or sisters, and there was a damn good chance she’d changed her name after she left us. This was hopeless.
Picking up the phone, I called Benj.
“Hey man,” he said.
“Hey. Look, I need a favor. Do you know any private investigators? I need to find someone who is pretty well hidden.” Benj had worked a lot of security, so I figured he was my best chance of finding a decent one.
“A P.I.? Shit, Jack, not what I expected to be asked this early on a Friday morning.” He chuckled. “Um, yeah. My cousin used one last year to catch his wife cheating. Apparently he was pretty thorough. I'll get his details for you.”
“Great. And Benj?” I asked.
He laughed. “Lemme guess, keep this to myself?”
I chuckled. “You got it.”
#
Downstairs, I began to prepare for a private event that evening. The entire venue was booked out for a party of thirty-five people. It was these kinds of nights I loved—a small crowd, but maximum dollars. Tonight's party was in honor of a well-known actor, though I hadn't been given any details on who the guest of honor was. All I knew was that they had money. The price they were paying for the venue, the band and the private catering exceeded my monthly income. I just hoped they liked to drink.
Who was I kidding? They were actors; of course they liked to drink.
I looked up as the front door opened. Anger surged through me as I realized who it was. Storming over to the door, I shook my head in disgust.
“Are you fucking serious? How many times do I have to tell you it’s over?” I groaned.
Harmony frowned, her hands on her hips.
“I thought you just needed some time to cool down—”
“Cool down?” I said, incredulously. “Harmony, it’s over. Do I need to spell it out for you? Just go latch onto some other guy,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. This chick just didn't get it. I didn't want to be an asshole, but it was the only way she was going to get the message and leave me the fuck alone. “Just fuck off and stay away from me and my bar.”
Her face clouded over as her eyes narrowed. “You'll regret this, Jack. Nobody makes a fool out of me.”
“Yeah, because you do such a good job of it yourself,” I smirked.
My eyes remained on hers as they filled with a look that could only be describ
ed as venomous. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stalked out the door, slamming it behind her.
“What the fuck,” I murmured, shaking my head. The chick was insane. I just hoped she got the message now. As an afterthought, I clicked the lock on the door.
I returned back to my paperwork. Still reeling from Harmony's visit, I picked up my phone and texted Alex.
Come over when you're free. Could use someone to talk to.
I chuckled as I pressed send. I gave him ten minutes to get here. Alex had been forever at me to get some counseling and for three years I'd been knocking him back, saying I didn't need to. The idea of helping me would be too good for him to pass up.
My phone beeped. I picked it up, expecting Alex, but saw that it was Benj.
His name’s Tony. All I have is an email: [email protected]
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