Chapter Thirty-Three
KINSEY
Miller texted me to meet him at home. It still brought a smile to my face to think about that. Home. We were living together.
He said he loved me.
And he texted home.
I grinned and opened the door to the apartment, then nearly ran in the opposite direction when my brother stood up from the couch and very slowly started walking toward me until I really looked at him.
I’d never seen him look so broken.
So tired.
So done.
“Kins—” His voice caught.
I rushed into his arms, too preoccupied with how horrible he looked to be angry. I held on to him for dear life while he kissed my forehead over and over again.
With a sigh, he touched his forehead to mine and braced my shoulders with his hands. “You were four the first time.”
Tears filled my eyes. “Jax, you don’t have to do this.”
“Four,” he repeated, ignoring me. “I saw the tree slam into your house. I’d never been so freaked out in my life. My parents were gone, and I knew you were alone. I ran like hell, thankful to God that your front door was open. And when I finally found you. You were”—his voice shook—“. . . you were sobbing in the corner, your feet cut up from the shattered windows.”
Tears filled my eyes at the memory. I’d been so afraid. So desperate for someone to hug me, to tell me everything was going to be okay.
“You looked like an angel,” I whispered. “I asked you if that’s why God put you next door, to look after me.”
“And I said yes.” Jax closed his eyes. “That I’d be your savior every day, every night, until the day I died.”
“You carried me.”
“I carried you through the storm,” Jax added. “And I remember so distinctly promising myself that I wouldn’t let anything hurt you. And for a few years, once the adoption went through, once you were really a Romonov . . . everything was perfect. And then you got sick and you were so helpless.” He shuddered. “It was stupid, but I remember at the time hating myself, blaming myself for carrying you through the storm, wondering if maybe that’s why you got sick.”
“Oh, Jax.” I shook my head. “One storm doesn’t make people sick.”
“I was so scared, and once the doctors told us it wasn’t cancer but lupus, and that you were going to be okay, I promised myself again that I’d make sure nothing would hurt you—nothing would touch you.” His voice cracked. “And in my mind somehow, I’d helped save you again just like I promised.” He paused. “You were, you are, my best friend.”
Tears slid down my cheeks.
“But I couldn’t protect you from Anderson.” He swore. “His abuse caused your body to attack itself, and when we found out you were getting flare-ups again, I blamed myself. You met him because of me. You trusted me, therefore you trusted him. I should have seen how badly he was treating you. I should have fought like hell to get you away from him.” His fists clenched.
“Jax.” I cupped his face. “You can’t save the world.”
“I can try.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You can’t.”
“Clearly.” His smile was sad. “Because it seems every time I try, I mess up even more than before.”
“Hate to break it to you, brother, but you are human.”
He scowled. “Bullshit, you’ve always said I look like Captain America.”
“Doesn’t mean you have superpowers even though I secretly always believed you did. It was my fault too, Jax. I put you in that position, not realizing how much pressure it put on you. You saved me from Anderson, and when you sent me away, you were trying to save me again, but this time . . .” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “This time it didn’t work because I’d found someone who treated me not like I was about to break, but like I was unbreakable.”
“I never meant to treat you that way.”
“I know.” I hugged him. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose, Jax.”
“The bastard loves you, and I can’t make him stop.”
I laughed against his chest. “Let me guess, you tried and he said no?”
“Something like that.” His laughter joined mine. “I’m sorry, Kins, so sorry. For telling everyone about your illness, for being overprotective, for—everything.”
“Don’t be.” I shrugged. “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t an overprotective asshole with a God complex.”
He pinched my side. “Very funny.”
“Dad said you’d come to your senses.”
Tears filled Jax’s eyes. “He knows me well.”
“Because you’re him.” I smiled. “Don’t you see? You are just like him, protecting everyone and everything around you, fighting for what’s good, what’s right. You’re his son, and I know he couldn’t be more proud of you.”
“He’s dying,” Jax whispered. “And we can’t stop it.”
“No.” I hugged him tighter as my heart squeezed in my chest. “But we can live . . .”
“You still remember, huh?”
“You told me it was my only job.”
“Live.”
“And look at me now.” I pulled away from him. “Miller said something that helped me. He said it’s not going to be okay, not today, not tomorrow, not during the funeral . . . he said he couldn’t lie to my face, that it was going to hurt, but he said eventually, it does hurt less, and that one day, the hurt won’t be as intense. So even though it hurts right now, and I’m sure it’s going to get a lot worse . . . I’m looking forward to that day, when it’s all a little less.”
“Wow.” Jax shoved his hands into his pockets. “No wonder you fell in love with the guy. Brutal honesty.”
“I needed to hear it.”
“I think I did too.”
The door to the apartment opened. Miller slowly walked in, looking between us like he wasn’t sure if a fight was going to break out or if we were finally okay.
“You sucked today,” I said, shattering the moment. “You both did. Maybe try not to get into a fight next time and keep your heads in the game.” I pointed at Miller. “Your blocking was good, but you’re better than that, and you know it.” I turned to Jax. “And don’t even get me started on your throws. Almost every time you took at least four seconds and barely made it out of the pocket. You’re faster than that, stop dancing around and get us a win next week!”
“I love it when she talks dirty.” Miller winked at me.
Jax groaned and plugged his ears before walking to Miller, punching him in the stomach then patting him on the back. “Welcome to the family. Remember, I sit at the head of the table during family dinner, the leather recliner is mine when we have a non-game week, and if you even think about stealing the last chocolate chip cookie, I will end you.”
“I love your mom’s cookies.”
I groaned behind my hands.
Jax and Miller both chuckled, did a weird man hug, and my brother left.
Miller grinned at me. “So, how’d it go?”
I held out my hands. “It was good to talk about everything, including all the things I probably need to talk about with you, but haven’t.”
Miller nodded. “I always figured you would when you were ready, I know it can’t be easy.”
“No, it’s not.” I could still feel the glass in my feet, the tubes poking out of my body while my blood was transfused. “But—”
The door jerked open, admitting Jax, his face ghastly pale. “Kins, Mom just called, we gotta go.”
“What?”
“It’s Dad.”