“I’M GOING to kill you,” Livvy growled when Jackson opened the door to his crappy hotel room.
Her twin studied her, then opened the door wider. “Want a beer first?”
So that was how they came to be seated side by side on his bed, nursing beers.
Livvy took a long sip of the alcohol. It was good beer, which didn’t surprise her. Jackson had always insisted on drinking and eating the best. She rested the cold bottle on her stomach and stared straight ahead at the ugly, faded, rose wallpaper. The hotel had seen better days, but it wasn’t as seedy as the place she and Nicholas had used. “It was a dick move you pulled, talking to Nicholas. Telling him about my episode back then. If I’d wanted to tell him, I would have.”
Jackson set his jaw, and for a second, he looked eerily similar to Paul. “I’m not sorry. He’s so goddamned self-satisfied and rich and confident. He needed to know what he did.”
Her cheeks turned red, and she spoke through gritted teeth. “You had no right to do that.”
Jackson closed his eyes, irritating her more. “It was my right as your brother.”
“You haven’t played my brother in years,” she snapped back. “You can’t roll in whenever you feel like and pick up the title.”
He froze, mid-sip, then lowered the beer. “Fair enough. All I could think about was what he put you through. Guess my temper got ahold of me.”
Livvy’s lips twisted. “You understand that episode wasn’t exclusively about the breakup right? It was everything. Like an avalanche of triggers, combined with my depression.”
Jackson worried the label on the bottle. “I guess I didn’t think of it like that. It was an avalanche of stuff for me, too, and then Nicholas fucked shit up. I know I’m not much of a brother now, but your hurt was mine then, remember?”
“I do.” Two peas in a pod.
“It scared me,” confessed her big, tough brother. “I couldn’t lose you, too. I guess in my head it was easier to place all my anger on Nicholas.”
At Jackson’s stark admission of fear, Livvy deflated. While Paul drank in their father’s study and their mother unraveled, Jackson had been the one to hold her on her bedroom floor. “I guess I haven’t been much of a sister either. We’ve both been too busy running.”
“Yeah.” He looked out the crack in the drapes at the depressing parking lot. “You over him now?”
“Yup,” she lied.
“He hurt you?”
She breathed out a low exhale but didn’t respond. There was no easy answer. Of course he’d hurt her. He hurt her by existing because she knew they’d never be together.
“I told you not to stay here,” Jackson said, when she didn’t reply. His tone was infinitely gentle. “This place isn’t good for you.”
No.
No, that wasn’t true. Her heart might feel like a herd of bison had trampled all over it, but she had made some gains. She had her family back, with John as a bonus. Plus, she figured she would now be able to successfully resist any texts from Nicholas. Partially because she’d blocked his number, but mostly because she was utterly conscious of the fact that her heart would simply crumble into a million pieces if she got back into bed with him anytime soon.
Whatever silly, romantic, lingering hope she’d had for them had been killed.
Yay, progress.
“I’m glad I stayed,” she replied, and she believed every word. That darkness would never go away, but it was easier to beat darkness back when you had a secure base to fight from, when you had people willing to hold your purse while you lit the torch. “You said I couldn’t pick and choose which parts of my past I resolved, and you’re right. I think there’s value in confronting stuff even if you end up acknowledging some parts can never be fixed.”
Jackson was silent.
Livvy sipped her beer. “How was New York?”
“Fine.”
“Why were you there?”
Nothing.
“Is it illegal, Jackson? Whatever you do?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his head swing around, his scowl fierce. “Why would you ask that?”
“You’re the one who told me about your prison stint in Paris.”
His brown skin darkened with a flush. “That was an anomaly. And it was for a good reason.”
“What was the reason?”
He mumbled something.
“What?”
“I was protesting, okay? It was bad luck I happened to be one of the ones caught.”
“Protesting?” Her heart lifted. Okay. That wasn’t awful. “Was it for a good cause?”
“Always,” he murmured.
“Is that what you were doing in New York?” she persisted.
His sigh was weary. “No. I was working in New York. And yes, it’s legal.”
Aware of the we-are-done-talking-about-this tone in her twin’s voice and what it meant, she subsided. “Okay.”
They sat in silence and drank their beers for a while. Finally, he cleared his throat. “How’s Mom?”
The question was torn out of him. “She’s okay. Getting much better. She started using a cane.”
Jackson grunted.
Livvy crossed her legs. She hadn’t wanted to project her desire for family on him but screw it. “I know she’s difficult, and I don’t know everything that happened between the two of you, but it might be good for you to try to talk to her. Just once? Go see her.”
Jackson ignored every word she said. “How’s Aunt Maile?”
“As good as she was the last time you asked.” She shifted. “And before you ask, Sadia’s fine too.”
Jackson nodded.
“You could see her, at least?”
“She doesn’t want to see me.”
“She does. She misses you.”
“I’m sure she’s fine.”
Livvy thought of the sadness and anger on Sadia’s face whenever Jackson’s name had popped up. “She’s not fine.”
Jackson’s frown was ferocious. “What’s wrong?”
Ugh, Sadia was gonna turn her stabbing knife around on Livvy if she ever found out about this. But her sister-in-law needed friends, and Jackson had, once upon a time, been Sadia’s best friend. “She could use a hand, is all. She could use you.” When Jackson frowned, she pressed. “She always stood by you. You owe her, Jackson.”
The knock on the door interrupted whatever Jackson’s would have said in response. “You expecting someone?” she asked.
Jackson swung his legs over the side of the bed. “No.”
It could be Maile. Livvy had told her aunt Jackson was here, on the off chance her brother would agree to see the family. She set her beer on the side table.
Jackson opened the door and stopped. Then he moved aside, his eyebrow raised sardonically. “It’s for you.”
Livvy’s knees were shaky as she came to her feet and met Nicholas’s gaze. She wasn’t accustomed to seeing Nicholas look so rumpled. His tie was loosened, his shirt unbuttoned with dirt covering it, his hands scratched up.
“What happened to you?” she asked, and took a step toward him. She halted at the warmth and tenderness in his expression.
“Nothing.”
“Something’s about to,” Jackson remarked. Then he lifted his massive fist and slammed it into Nicholas’s face.
Livvy squealed. To his credit, Nicholas only staggered back a step at the blow that would have probably felled a smaller man.
“Jesus, Jackson,” she spat, and skirted around her brother to grab Nicholas’s arm. Nicholas allowed her to lead him to the bed and set him down on it, and then she pried his hand away from his face, wincing at the blood trickling out of his nose. “What were you thinking?” she asked her brother, and grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the bedside table.
“He hurt you. He knew the price he’d pay.” Jackson cocked his head. He studied Nicholas like a scientist with a lab experiment. “I probably owe him a few more hits.”
Nicholas straightened as she dabbed at the blood coming out of his nose. “That one was free. You won’t be hitting me again.”
She looked between the two men while the charged silence extended, then finally threw up her hands. “Enough of this shit. Jackson, out.”
“It’s my room,” he pointed out mildly.
“Go,” Livvy said briskly. If nothing else, she had to get Nicholas’s blood cleaned up and find out what had him showing up here looking like a mess.
Jackson grunted. “Fine. I’ll be in the lobby. Call me if you need me.”
The door clicked softly, and Livvy bent over Nicholas, awkwardly dabbing at his face. She hadn’t seen enough fights to know exactly how to take care of a bloody nose. “I don’t think it’s broken,” she offered.
“That’s a relief.” Thankfully, he took over the doctoring and accepted the tissues from her, tilting his head back and pinching his nostrils closed. “I’ll be fine.”
She twisted her hands between her and sat next to him. “Sorry about that. I didn’t know he’d punch you.”
“He did warn me.” He lowered the tissues and glanced at her. “And I did hurt you.”
Livvy worried her lip. Nicholas shifted so he was angled toward her, and picked up her hand with the one that didn’t hold bloody tissues. “I’m sorry, Livvy.”
“It’s not your fault,” she mumbled, her heart breaking anew. “You can’t help what you feel.”
He paused. “How do you think I feel?”
She shrugged.
“Like I pity you?”
“Yeah.” Restless, she pulled her hand from his and stood, pacing away from him, then back again.
“No. Livvy, I don’t pity you. I love you.”
The rushed words made her stop and stare at him. “What?”
“I love you.” His shoulders lowered and he smiled up at her, the years falling away from his face, his younger self and the man he was now merging together.
She shook her head, feeling like someone had dunked it in a bucket of water. His words were coming from far away, too muffled and low for her to understand. “What?” she repeated.
He didn’t look impatient, but amused. He came to his feet and walked over to her to hold her shoulders and look down at her. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. That’s what I should have said when we were in that hotel room. I don’t know why it was so hard. It feels pretty easy right now.” He pulled her unresisting body closer.
She allowed it. She reveled in it. Livvy closed her eyes and absorbed every second of this moment—the way he smelled like an inexplicable combination of chocolate and earth, the strength of his arms around her, the words resonating in her ears, smoothing over the ragged edges of the wound she ripped open on an annual basis.
She drew it in and wrapped it around herself, because she knew it couldn’t last. Committing everything to memory, she pulled away. “Thank you.”
“Thank you?” His dark eyebrows met over his swollen nose. “Is that all you have to say?”
“I love you too. But you know that.”
His smile destroyed her. Especially when it started to fade. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like this is bad news?”
She’d opted for a simple button-down and leggings to come over here, and she was glad she had. She didn’t need her usual armor of outrageous clothes when she was going to strip them off anyway.
Nicholas kept his gaze on her face as she removed her shirt and leggings, until she was standing in front of him in only a bra and panties. She pointed to the heart in the parenthesis on her breast. “It’s an E. E. Cummings poem: ‘i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart).’” She touched the dragon on her leg. “Because I need protection sometimes.” She tapped her shoulder and the vine crawling over her flesh. “I didn’t want to cling to you anymore.”
She almost turned around to show him the compass, but that would be a step too far. She couldn’t.
When his gaze met hers, she took a step back from the tenderness there. “Livvy.”
“Nico. I can’t.”
He recoiled, the words seeming to hit him harder than her brother’s fist. “What?”
“I can’t accept your love.” She licked her lips. “I can imagine what Jackson told you, but my wanting to die after we broke up, that wasn’t solely about you. I have depression.”
He didn’t move, simply watched her.
“Jackson was the only one who knew about it when we were young. I hid it, because I thought I had to. My family called me moody or temperamental, and I don’t think it was so awful until I hit my late teens anyway.” Livvy ran her hand through her hair. “When we broke up, that was a bad episode. Probably the worst I’ve ever had, though the time after Paul’s death wasn’t so great either.”
Nicholas took a step closer to her, stopping when she backed up. “Let me finish. This is a part of me, and sometimes the darkness comes and goes for no reason. But there are definitely things that make it worse. Feeling alone, or overwhelmed.” She swallowed. “Feeling like the people I surround myself with can’t accept all of me.”
He drew in a breath. “Livvy.”
She spread her hands in front of her. “The reality is, you’re always going to be inside me. On me.” She gestured to her body. “In one way or another, you’ve influenced my life. But I only have so much skin left.” She picked her shirt up, drew it around her shoulders, and buttoned it up.
“You don’t trust me. I know what mistakes I made last time, and I won’t repeat them. Give me a chance, Livvy.”
“You can say that now, Nico. When our relationship comes out, what’s going to happen the first time some obstacle gets thrown in our way?”
“You think I’ll choose the company or my family over you? I wouldn’t.”
“It’s happened before.” Each word fell between them, damning him. “I believe you love me. I just don’t know if you’ll be able to stay with me. Out there, in the real world. And I—I deserve that.” As she said the words, she felt them lifting her spirits and her self-confidence. “I deserve that,” she repeated. “When shit goes down, storybook princes are unreliable. I need a man who’s going to stand by my side in the cold light of day. I can’t be someone’s secret anymore. I can’t carry the emotional load all by myself.”
“What if—”
There came that word again, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted. “Ifs belong in fairy tales.” She shook her head and put every ounce of pleading in her voice. He wouldn’t ignore her if she truly demanded something. “Please leave, Nicholas.”
He stilled completely, and then he nodded, a dip of his head.
She didn’t look up when he left, closing the door quietly behind him. She figured she had a little while before her brother came back. Plenty of time for her to crawl under the cheap comforter and sob.
She didn’t budge until she felt big hands pulling her close. The motions were awkward, but not hesitant. Her brother arranged her so she was tucked in tight next to his larger body. “I’m going to kill him,” he said, and it was one of the calmest, most alarming declarations she’d ever heard. Listening to that, a person could believe a more reckless Jackson had gone ahead and burned down a store to avenge his sister.
“You are not. You said you don’t do illegal stuff.”
“I’ll make an exception.” His hand ran up and down her back.
“He told me he loved me and he wants to try again,” she said miserably.
He snorted. “No shit.”
She leaned away. “You don’t sound surprised.”
“You know what the security code on his house is? Our birthday. Yeah, I believe he’s still hung up on you.”
She swiped at the wetness on her cheeks. “What? How do you know his security code?”
“Not important.” He pressed her face back against his chest. “I’m guessing you don’t want him.”
“I don’t know if he can love all of me. I can’t do everything all over again and then pick up all the pieces when he quits.”
“There’s nothing wrong with all of you.”
There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re going to be fine.
He meant well, but, ugh. She grit her teeth, unable to stop herself from saying something. “I always hated when you said that, you know. It made me feel pressured to pretend I was fine and I’m not fine.”
Jackson stroked her hair for a while, his chest moving beneath her cheek. “I never meant for you to feel like that,” he said finally. “I only meant to say you were perfect.”
Perfect?
Jackson, who more than anyone, had seen her at her lowest, thought she was perfect? “I’m imperfect.”
“Yeah, so’s everyone.” His voice dropped, fumbling. “But there’s nothing bad about that.”
Oh.
His voice grew stronger when she didn’t respond. “You are who you are and I love you.”
She drew each word close to her heart, using them as tiny torches to illuminate the scary loneliness.
She’d done the right thing, though it hurt. This. This was what she needed. People who could see all her imperfections and find beauty in them. It was possible.
I deserve compassion.
She rested her head against his chest.
I deserve love.