by Nona Raines
Jake stared dully at the television, his face lifeless. “Yeah.”
“Really, Jake. Come on, man up.”
Jake gave a short soundless laugh. “Man up. Right.” He cut his eyes at his kid brother. “Let me tell you something, bro. I married Beth because I knocked her up. At least that’s what she told me. Just like she told me, a month after the wedding, that she had a miscarriage.”
“You think she lied?”
“I have no idea.” Jake’s whole body sagged in defeat. “At that point, we were already married, our parents had spent a shitload on the wedding. What was I going to do, dump her? Fast-forward and here I am. I look at my life and wonder how the hell did I get here? How did I get in this trap?”
Jordan felt numb with sadness and something else. Disillusionment? He’d felt a twinge of jealously for Jake at Christmas, with his wife and beautiful little baby girl. Jealous of their white-picket-fence life, something Kyla wanted no part of. He’d even felt a bit embarrassed, thinking of his own unconventional arrangement with Ky and Cassie. Compared to his own life, Jake and Beth’s seemed so perfect.
Nobody had perfect.
But this wasn’t about him. Miserable with his inability to help his brother, Jordan struggled for some way to comfort him.
“Have you talked to Mom and Dad about it? They’ve been through some tough times…”
Jake snorted. “Mom and Dad. I can imagine how that would go. Well, now, Son”—he lowered his voice to a pompous bass—”every marriage has its bumps in the road.”
Something his brother said earlier nipped at Jordan. “What did you mean, when you said they had no business pointing fingers?”
Jake gave him a skeptical look. “Come on, you know. Sasha.”
“Sasha? Dad’s TA?” Their father’s former teaching assistant. She’d moved on a few years ago.
“Duh. Who else?” Jake’s cynical expression turned to one of amazement. A chill passed through Jordan. “You’re telling me you really don’t know about her and Dad? Dude, they were knocking boots for years.”
Jordan drew back in icy-cold shock. “What? You don’t know that.”
“The hell I don’t. Mom found out about it and went batshit. Why do you think Sasha suddenly disappeared from all the family functions and get-togethers? Why her name never comes up anymore, as though she’d dropped off the face of the earth?”
It was true that Sasha Merrick had been part of their lives, “one of the family” for years. Their mother had even felt sorry for the unmarried Ms. Merrick and tried matching her with one or two bachelors of her acquaintance. And then, just like that, she was gone.
“Because she found a better job and left town.” Jordan felt his certainty crack like the ice on a frozen pond.
“Because she got pregnant and didn’t want to raise a stink. She must’ve really loved Dad, ’cause she could’ve made things rough for him. Even cost him his career. I don’t know, maybe she felt guilty. Or maybe she just agreed to keep her mouth shut in exchange for a nice, fat child-support check every month.” Jake shrugged as though it didn’t make much difference.
Jordan felt like the biggest idiot on the planet. “And everybody knows this?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Thought you did too. Sorry.” Jake sighed. “Yeah, we’re not the Brougham six-pack anymore. There are in fact seven of us. We now have a four-year-old half sister, courtesy of Joe Sr. and Sasha.”
Jordan’s brain felt numb and slow, though he’d only had one beer. Dimly he took note of Jake ordering another drink, the voice of the announcer on the TV, the guys and women around him laughing too loud, trying too hard to have fun.
Jake, glassy-eyed and slacked-jawed, stared at the television, and Jordan’s hands curled into fists. He fought an overwhelming urge to punch his brother in the face. But it wasn’t really Jake he was angry at. Who, then? His parents? Himself?
“Gimme your keys.”
Jake blinked at him. “Wha? Huh?”
“I said give me your keys. You’re drunk, and I’m not letting you drive home in that condition.”
“So I’ll stay here till I sober up.”
“No. You’ve got two people waiting for you at home. That’s where you belong.” And nobody’s waiting for me. Because I’m a dumbass. “I’m driving you. Now. So give me your keys, or I’ll take them myself.”
Jordan was amped up enough to wrestle his brother to the floor, and he almost hoped Jake would put up a fight. But Jake just stared at him in bafflement, dug around in his pocket, and handed over the keys. “Jesus, what bit you in the ass?”
He grabbed Jake by the biceps and jerked him off the stool. “Come on.”
But his brother put up a fuss when they reached Jordan’s car in the parking lot. “Hey, how’m I supposed to get my car home?”
“You’re a big boy. You’ll figure it out tomorrow. When you sober up.”
Jake grumbled some more, but a few minutes later he was slouched in the passenger seat, snoring loudly. Not a pretty picture. No wonder Beth wouldn’t fuck him.
He pulled into the driveway of the large split-level and roughly shook his brother awake. “We’re here.”
“Uhh.” Jake’s eyes popped open. A string of drool hung down his chin. Jordan felt like literally kicking him out of the car, but a sliver of sympathy pierced him when his brother looked at the house the way a prisoner might look at his cell.
Some tough love was called for. “Hey.” Jordan’s voice was harsh. “Listen up. You got a good job, a nice house, a great wife, and a beautiful little girl. You know how many men would love to have what you’ve got? You’ve got a great fuckin’ life. So start appreciating it.”
He didn’t know if he got through to Jake or not. Maybe some of it sank into his brother’s sozzled brain. He and Beth would have to work it out somehow. Jordan only hoped they could.
But Jake wasn’t the only one who needed to man up. Jordan knew he had some things to face himself. And he had to face them now, tonight, when his resolve was fresh. When the front door of the house closed behind Jake, Jordan headed to his next destination.
* * * *
His mother answered the door with a look of surprise. “Hello, dear.” She kissed his cheek and stroked it.
“Hi, Mom. Dad here?”
“Oh, yes. We were just watching some television. Come in. Have you had dinner?”
“Uh, no—”
“Let me get you something—”
“No, Mom. No thanks, I’m not hungry.” He stepped past her down the hallway and into the living room, where his father sat watching some talking-heads program. Without asking permission, Jordan took the remote from the side table and clicked off the television. Then he sat in an armchair facing the sofa where his father sat and behind which his mother stood. “I need to talk to you.”
“What’s this about?” His father looked annoyed that Jordan was acting like the master of the house. His mom just looked bewildered.
“Does this have something to do with Christmas Day?” his father asked. “Did your girlfriend ask you to come here?”
He gritted his teeth. “No, Kyla has no idea I’m here. She’s not speaking to me. And from now on, when you refer to her, you’ll do so respectfully.”
Mr. Brougham merely snorted, but his wife pounced on Jordan’s second remark. “You and Kyla are—”
“She’s been staying with Cassie.”
“You’ve broken up?” His mother’s face was aglow with hope. “We’ve been praying for that—”
Jordan recoiled as though she’d kicked him in the gut. “You’ve been praying the woman I love would leave me?”
“She’s all wrong for you. We’ve known that from the beginning.”
“She’s left you for this other woman.” Mr. Brougham’s mouth twisted with disapproval. “Her lover.”
“My lover too,” Jordan replied calmly.
His father rose from the sofa. “We’re not going to discuss this.”
Jordan stood as
well. “Yes, we are.”
Both his parents blinked at him, unused to seeing Jordan take a stand so firmly.
“Dad, sit down. You too, Mom.” He took a deep breath as his parents settled themselves. “I love you. And I’ve always admired you, both of you. I know that I haven’t lived up to all your expectations—”
“Oh, that’s not true—” Mrs. Brougham interrupted.
“Yes, it is. I’m not anywhere near as successful as Joe Jr. or Jake. Or any of your other children. But I’m happy. I have a good job, a nice house, and someone to love. Two someones. And they love me.”
Was that true? He only hoped so, hoped he hadn’t already lost Ky and Cassie.
His father was stony-faced and tight-lipped. His mother simply shook her head as though she couldn’t understand.
“I’m not asking for your approval. I’m not even asking you to try and understand. I’m just telling you that Kyla and Cassie are part of my life now. I hope they always will be. If you can’t treat them with respect, then I’m not going to be able to spend much time here. I’ll always love you, but our relationship won’t be the same anymore.”
“Son.” His mother’s eyes were those of a wounded fawn. His father remained silent.
Anger splashed over Jordan in an icy wave as he absorbed his father’s disdainful glare. How could he sit there, so judgmental, after his affair with Sasha? Jordan was tempted to confront him, throw his double standard in his face.
Does it bother you I’m being up-front, Dad? Would it be better if I sneaked around like you did?
No. He’d keep his mouth shut. He was here to state his case, not to point fingers or to humiliate anyone. And maybe his parents’ intimate life was none of his business. Just as his was none of theirs. His mother must have forgiven her husband, and how they worked out their troubles was private.
“You’re making a mockery of your relationship,” his father told him. “Don’t you think every man would like two women? Hell, what man wouldn’t want a harem if he could get one? But a mature man knows what it means to make a commitment to one woman instead of this Peter Pan lifestyle you’re touting.”
He wanted to laugh at his father’s hypocrisy but instead said, “I’ve said what I needed to say. It’s not up for debate.”
Jordan left them with a quiet good-bye. The night wasn’t over, and he had another stop to make.
Chapter Thirteen
Cassie opened the door to him and threw her arms around him. Jordan almost sagged with relief at her greeting. At least someone was glad to see him. He only hoped Kyla would feel the same way.
As he cradled Cass, he moved one hand up her warm back, under the thin cami she wore. She laid her head on his shoulder and pressed against him. Her hard nipples prodded his chest, causing his cock to stir.
She sighed and looked up into his face. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She moved back to let him enter, and her expression clouded as he crossed the threshold. “Where’s Kyla?”
His thoughts scattered in surprise. “What?”
“She’s not with you? I thought—”
“I thought she was here with you,” Jordan countered. They stared at each other with similar dumbstruck expressions.
“No,” Cassie said at last. “She was gone when I came home from work. There was a note… I just assumed she went home to you.”
“Shit. No.” His hopes plummeted like a body tossed from a bridge. “Where the hell is she, then?”
After a few moments of numbed confusion, Jordan took out his cell phone and began making calls. The first was to St. Vincent’s Hospital, where Kyla worked.
“She left her shift early,” he told Cassie as he rang off. “Told them there was a family emergency.”
“An emergency?” Cassie looked at him in bafflement. “What does that mean?”
“It means her fucked-up family got their claws in her again.” His mouth twisted at the sour taste that suddenly filled it. “Shit.” He snapped open his cell again and punched in a few numbers. “Hello. Yeah, I’d like a number in Sherman, New York. Yes. For Kendra Denster, please.” Kendra had taken back her maiden name after she dumped her husband.
He was in luck. The operator put him through, and a few minutes later, he got all the information he needed.
“What?” Cassie’s face was pale.
“Ky’s in Sherman. According to her sister, their mother is in the hospital. Ky’s stepfather put her there.”
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah. He knocked her down, broke her arm, among other things, and she’s concussed. God, and Ky never let us know, just took off without a word—” A black wall of rage momentarily blinded him.
“She wasn’t thinking. She had to leave in a hurry.” Cassie was grasping at straws.
“No.” Jordan shook his head, his mouth a grim line. “She did on it purpose. To punish me.”
“Punish both of us,” Cassie said softly.
The anger dissolved, and his shoulders drooped. “I let her down.” He flicked a look at Cassie. “Let you both down.”
Cass placed her hand on his biceps. “Don’t worry on my account.”
Jordan gritted his teeth. “I hate that. Hate how you always discount yourself, say it doesn’t matter when somebody hurts you. That’s bullshit. It does matter. You matter.”
He grabbed her and kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, squeezing her close. Then the kiss softened, their mouths clung, and her tongue moved against his, hot and silky. They broke apart, and he moved a strand of hair from Cassie’s face as she licked her lips.
He’d come here with a purpose, and kissing Cassie only made that purpose stronger. Made him more determined than ever to clear things up with Ky. “You matter, and so does Kyla. I’m going to get her, and when I do, we’re both coming back for you.”
“No, you’re not,” Cassie answered. “Because I’m going with you.”
* * * *
Kyla awoke in a fog, blinking groggily in the dim light. It took a few moments to remember where she was. In her mother’s hospital room. Her mother lay back in the bed, her eyes closed, her face pale but for the mottled purplish bruise on her cheek.
Kyla’s watch read 10:27 p.m. She’d slept almost an hour, when she only meant to close her eyes for a few minutes.
Even so, she wasn’t rested. Not the way she was when she snuggled against Jordan’s warm body at night.
God, she missed him. What a bitch she’d been to him on the phone. Not even letting him know she was here. True, Kendra’s frantic phone call had urged her to come right away, but she could have called or texted him so he wouldn’t worry. The truth was she wanted him to worry.
Why? Because he wouldn’t stick it to his parents the way she wanted? Or did she just want to punish him for being a man?
When Kendra called today to tell her that their mother was in the hospital, hate boiled up in Kyla like red-hot lava. Hate for her worthless-ass rage-aholic stepfather. And maybe a little of that hate spilled over onto all men. Because they were taller and stronger and weighed more. Because their hands were bigger and could curl into fists that could beat and kill.
But Jordan’s hands had never hurt her. They’d only held her when she needed comforting, caressed her when she needed to be loved. And yeah, made her come when she was horny. His hands could be gentle or loving or naughty, but they were never cruel. Because they were part of Jordan.
And when she saw him, she’d tell him how much she loved him.
Why wait? You’ve got your phone. Kyla sat up, gazing down at the purse on the floor, but made no move toward it. She shook her head in self-disgust. Chickenshit.
Kendra had gone home to bed—a fold-out couch in a trailer barely big enough for herself and her kids. Both sisters had escaped the home they’d grown up in as soon as they could—Kyla through a nursing-school scholarship and Kendra through an early marriage that left her with two children and an ex-husband.
But at least her mother seemed at
peace. Maybe that was because she knew she was safe now. They were all safe. The cops had hauled Marty off on charges of domestic abuse, and for the first time ever, Hope Burton had agreed to press charges.
When Kyla arrived hours ago and found her mother in the hospital room, cradling her broken arm, she’d blown up. “How long are you going to keep putting up with it? Until he kills you?”
Someone who didn’t know the story would think Kyla a heartless bitch for coming down so hard on her mother. For showing so little compassion. But her mom had spent years making excuses for Marty, telling people the bruises were her own fault. She was just so clumsy. The black eye came from walking into a door. The crushed fingers were from foolishly slamming the car door on her hand. Years of lies, years of cover-ups.
But today, Kyla’s mother had surprised her. Instead of making excuses, she’d shaken her head, in tears. “No. No more.” Her voice was so quiet, Kyla had barely heard her.
Mrs. Burton opened her eyes. “Hi, honey. Did you have a good nap?”
“I didn’t mean to sleep so long. Do you want anything? Soda or something hot? I can go to the cafeteria.”
“No, I’m fine. Just sit, keep me company.” The stress of living with Marty had aged Hope, making her look older than her forty-eight years. She’d had to walk on eggshells, never sure when her husband would lose his cool and strike out.
But now she smiled, and some of tension drained away, making her seem younger and prettier.
“It’ll be better now, Mom. You’ll see.”
Anxiety clouded her mother’s eyes. “I’m not young anymore. I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“You’re not old either. And there’s plenty you can do. Get a job, go to school, anything you want.”
All those possibilities seemed to frighten Hope. “I don’t know…”
Marty had done this to her mother. Turned her into a frightened shell, someone afraid to make a move. Someone who thought she had no right to make a move.
“You can come and stay with me and Jordan for a while. Start over.” Kyla made the offer without hesitation. She had no doubt Jordan would support such a move. He was that kind of man.
