Chapter 13

Jackson

Later that night, I sat in a leather booth with plush backing, nursing a scotch, and I couldn’t shake the bad mood that hung over my head like a storm cloud. It had been there all day long, following me wherever I went. After I watched Lilly walk away with Preppy Prick, an overall annoyance with the world had crept over me, and I couldn’t shake it off.

When Tyler had asked me to meet him for dinner, I agreed immediately. Knowing my mom would be nearby, yet still didn’t know I was home, didn’t sit well with me…even though Mother and I were never particularly close.

We’d never gotten along all that great because I was the mistake she never really wanted.

It wasn’t that we had this deep-rooted dislike for one another, or that she had beaten me as a kid or anything so dramatic as that. It was just that while I had been busy growing up, she chose to focus more on her current husband—or finding her next one. There hadn’t been much time for an annoying kid she’d never planned on having in the first place.

And she had never failed to remind me of that.

Now that I was all grown up, and the presumably hard part of parenting was over, she seemed to have finally settled down. Which meant—you guessed it—she suddenly had time for her unwanted son. A.k.a. me. So she started emailing more. Asking me what I was going to do with my life once I got out of the army.

After I got injured, I told her over the phone that I might be coming back home, that I might be leaving the army, and she immediately started planning my future. Where I would go to school. What I would become, now that I was done “playing soldier” overseas. Where I would live when I came back. It had been an immediate process, and I hadn’t had the heart to tell her she could plan all she wanted, but I would choose my own damn path.

It was what I’ve always done.

I wasn’t about to change that because she suddenly remembered I existed.

So I hadn’t told her I was home at all. Hadn’t spoken to her since, despite her repeated calls, and all the excited life plans she made for me, with Walt’s help.

Hell, when I was fighting overseas, she sent me a letter a year. One. Damn. Letter. Lilly had written once a week. And when her letters had finally trickled to a stop, I missed them every mail call. Given a choice, I would’ve opted for my mother’s letters to stop, not Lilly’s. Speaking of Lilly…

Damn it, I couldn’t quite sort out my feelings for her right now.

I was angry, because she might marry Preppy Prick. I was smug because she still clearly preferred me over him. I was wounded, because she didn’t seem to give a shit that we couldn’t be together. And mixed up in it all was the desire to have her in my arms again, to see the passion on her face, as she came apart in my bed.

But I couldn’t have her. I refused to have only part of her.

It was killing me. She was killing me.

Tyler slid back into the booth, still clutching his phone. “Sorry, that was the bar. We’re out of vodka again.”

“Don’t you have an inventory manager for that shit?” I asked.

“Yes, but he quit. I’m still looking for a replacement.” He picked up his gin and tonic and downed it. “So, how’s it going, living with your sister?”

“She’s not my sister,” I said just as quickly. “But it’s good. We get along well.”

“Good.” He set his drink down. “She’s pretty.”

I frowned. “Yeah…”

“It’s got to be weird, living with her like that.” Tyler twisted his lips, his gaze on a pretty blonde sitting at the bar alone. “You two barely know each other, and now you’re roommates, and she’s hot, and she clearly has feelings for you. And you feel something for her, though I’m not sure what that something is.”

I stiffened. “Why would you say that?”

“I have eyes,” he said simply. “But like I said, living with someone you don’t know is weird.”

That wasn’t true. I did know Lilly. As a matter of fact, I would bet my life that I knew her better than anyone else did. But I wouldn’t admit that to Tyler. I picked up my scotch. We’d already finished eating, and were waiting on our bill, so the table was cleared. “She wrote to me when I was overseas. Up until she went to college, just like Walt asked her to. So I do know her, more than you’d think.”

“Letters from years ago don’t mean much,” Tyler said, picking up his empty glass and frowning. “What was your sister like, as a kid?”

“She’s not my sister,” I said automatically as I stared down into the amber liquid in my glass. “But she was…smart. Funny. Free-spirited, but not sure how to show it. I could always tell she wanted to be free of her dad’s hold, but she never did anything about it. Still hasn’t. Hell, he picked a husband for her. Wrote out a contract and everything. And she might actually marry the guy.”

“Wait. What?” Tyler shook his head, as if unsure he’d heard me correctly. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope. Dead serious.” I set my almost-empty glass down. “She’s legally contracted to marry some prick.”

Tyler blinked as if he weren’t sure he’d heard me right. “People still do that?”

“Apparently, rich people do.” I shrugged. “It’s something to do with money and mergers and his business.”

“Shit, man.” Tyler sagged back against the booth. “And she’s just gonna do it?”

“I think so. She says she’s looking for a way out, another option, but even as she says it, I can see the resignation in her eyes.” I lifted our cups to the bartender, who nodded from across the room. “I might not know her as well as I should, but I know this. She might think she can get out of it, but if she doesn’t find a way, she’ll marry him. I don’t know what her dad is holding over her head, or why she feels she has to, but she will.”

Tyler whistled through his teeth. “Damn, man. That’s fucked up.”

I downed the remainder of my drink, not answering.

“What about you? How are you doing?” Tyler asked.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Working. Sleeping. Living.”

“Did you tell your mom you’re back yet?”

I laughed. “No.”

“Are you ever going to?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I’m actually asking around about being repositioned somewhere else, on recruiting duty. Hawaii sounds nice.”

“You’re leaving again?” Tyler asked flatly.

I slid our glasses to the edge of the table, unable to sit still. “Maybe.”

“Did you ever think you’re running from something?”

I tapped my fingers on the table in a steady rhythm, pretending I was counting down the seconds before taking a clean shot at a target. “I don’t want to live here. With my mother. I don’t think I’ve hidden my—”

“What about your sister?” Tyler leaned in. “Are you running from her, too?”

“Why would I?” I asked, my heart pounding loudly in my head. “We’re just stepsiblings. Nothing else.”

“Yeah. Sure you are.” Tyler waved a hand dismissively. “And I’m Bradley fucking Cooper.”

The drinks came, and I picked mine up immediately. Tyler did the same. “She doesn’t mean anything to me. She can’t. I just owe her a debt is all, and I’m trying to repay it. To make my past wrongs right.”

“What debt would that be?” he asked, his attention still locked on the blonde. She now watched him back. “You haven’t told me that yet.”

“That’s because it’s personal.”

“Of course it is.” Tyler blinked. “I saw you reading those letters, man. Over and over and over again. You lived for them. Loved them. Don’t act as if you didn’t. You still have them, for fuck’s sake.”