Part 12 (2/2)

Ca.s.s looks at me, then frowns. ”Are you okay? Other than the obvious, I mean. I've seen all the social media bulls.h.i.+t.” She must decide it's too intense a question to start out with, though, because before I have time to even think how to answer that, she looks at my brother. ”The bloom must be fading. I don't think she got laid this morning.”

Ethan actually chokes on his drink, and I laugh. A genuine laugh, which reminds me why I love Ca.s.s.

”Actually,” I say, as I scoot into the booth beside Ca.s.s. ”You're right.” I grin wickedly. ”But last night was exceptional.”

”No, no, no, no, no,” my brother says, his interruption so on cue that Ca.s.s and I look at each other and grin. ”Do not even go there, or I will have to start running down the list of women I've met in Orange County. Laguna Beach is a happy hunting ground, I kid you not.”

I debate silence for a moment, but I just can't deny the truth. ”Sorry,” I say to Ethan. Then I turn to Ca.s.s and say, ”Honestly, Jackson is just so”

Across the table, Ethan groans as if in pain.

”Fine,” I say, then turn my attention back to Ca.s.s. ”How's your love life?”

”Oh, h.e.l.l,” Ethan chimes in. ”Why not skip the romance and jump straight to your s.e.x life?”

We both turn to him, and he grins and raises his hands. ”Hey, girl on girl and no sister in the picture? I'm perfectly fine with that.”

I smirk at Ca.s.s. ”You'll have to forgive my brother. He's an a.s.s.”

”But such a cute one, don't you think?”

”He is pretty adorable,” I say, and though we're bantering to get a rise out of him, the fact is it's true.

I adore my brother, and I always have. He's the only good thing, in fact, that came out of the horror of my childhood, because when it was all said and done, he walked away healthy.

He's been living in London and only recently returned to the States. And between work and the soap opera that is now my life, I haven't gotten to see him nearly enough. He's got a few weeks off before he starts back up at his job, so he's been using our parents' house as a home base. That's not a situation that's conducive to visits as far as I'm concerned, because the only thing I want less than to shove bamboo under my fingernails is to visit my parents. So I was beyond thrilled when he called and suggested drinks with me and Ca.s.s. ”No significant others,” he'd said. ”Jackson's awesome, but I want the dirt.”

Apparently he meant it, because now he's all about the gossip. He kicks back, looks me square in the eye, and says, ”I've read all the tabloid s.h.i.+t. What's the real story?”

The waitress arrives with the fried avocado, tuna tartare, and specialty martinis they'd ordered before I arrived, so I wait until she's gone to run down all the drama. At least, all the drama I'm willing to share.

”No way,” my brother says. He grabs a slice of fried avocado and points it at me. ”He didn't do it.”

”Kill Reed?” Ca.s.s asks, as though we could be talking about anything else.

”I spent time with him. Jackson's not a killer.”

”Thanks for the a.s.sessment.” It's one I agree with, actually. Jackson isn't a killer. But he is a man who would kill when necessary. And if he ends up convicted, how the h.e.l.l will I live with the knowledge that he killed for me?

”Anytime.” Ethan smiles, but it seems a little sad.

”What?” I demand. ”What happened with Mom and Dad to send you racing up to Los Angeles?”

He waves the question away. ”Nothing. Really. I just needed my s.p.a.ce. And I wasn't even thinking about that. It just sucks that you have to deal with this murder stuff and all the c.r.a.p that the tabloids are printing and posting all over the web.” He lifts a shoulder. ”It's just all a mess.”

Since I can't argue with that, I don't.

”I think the hardest thing on Jackson is that he didn't get to bring his daughter home,” I say.

”Well, yeah,” Ca.s.s says. ”You guys went all the way to Santa Fe and then got slammed with the news he's a prime suspect. It sucks,” she adds, in what might be the understatement of the century.

Ethan's reaction is entirely different. He's staring at me as if I've lost my mind. ”Jackson has a kid?”

I nod, realizing that although Ca.s.s has known this for almost as long as I have, I never told my brother this little family secret. ”The media doesn't know. He wants to keep it quiet to protect her from, well, from all of this mess. So don't, you know . . .”

I trail off, and he swats my words away as if they are a nuisance. ”Of course I won't say anything, but Jesus, Syl. You're dating a guy with a kid?”

”He's just a guy,” Ca.s.s says. ”Fatherhood isn't his defining characteristic.”

Ethan cuts her a quick glance. ”No. No, it's not. But if it's serious between you and Jackson, and if you're thinking that he's your guy and maybe there's marriage down the line”

He doesn't finish the thought. He doesn't have to. At least not to me. Because he and I have had more than our fair share of conversations about parenting. And in every single one of them we both acknowledged the fact that with parents like ours, we needed to stay far, far away from that particular vocation.

Ethan doesn't know the h.e.l.l I went through with my dad, but he does know how distant I am from both our parents. And even though they treated him like a prince when he was ill, the truth is that even his relations.h.i.+p with them is strained, because they never really saw him as a kid. More like a fragile commodity. And while he is willing to spend time with them and truly loves them, he's told me at least a dozen times that he's not sure he could be a dad, because what the h.e.l.l does he know about genuine closeness?

I don't know if he's right about his parenting skills, but I see that distance in the way he handles his relations.h.i.+ps with women. h.e.l.l, I saw it in my own, too. Or, rather, I saw it until Jackson.

”What's the matter with you?” Ca.s.s snaps the question at Ethan even as she takes my hand and squeezes. ”You've told me she's a little angel, right?”

”She is,” I say, glancing at my brother as if to underscore the point. But the moment I see his face, I regret looking that way.

I see all the years of my childhood. All of my painmost of which he doesn't even know about. I see the way my mother ignored me. I see my anger at my father and his distance toward me.

I see the fragility of children, and the knowledge that it is so easy to f.u.c.k up a life.

I see it, because that fragile child stares back at me every morning from the mirror, and the woman she is now has no idea how to be a mom. h.e.l.l, that girl isn't even certain how she survived childhood.

”I don't want to talk about it anymore,” I say.

”Oh, s.h.i.+t. Syl”

”Forget it, Ethan. It's okay. It's just been a long, weird couple of days. And the fact is, Ronnie's not really at the top of the problem pile, you know? Keeping Jackson out of jail is what's keeping me up at night. Not whether or not I'll be watching Sesame Street every morning.”

I turn pointedly to Ca.s.s. ”So. All well with Siobhan?”

Thankfully, Ca.s.s understands my need to change the subject. ”Everything is perfect,” she says. ”I'm in that lovey-dovey floaty place.” She releases an exaggerated sigh and then pats her hand rapidly over her heart. ”I'm all pitty-pat and gooey and sweet. It's disgusting, really. On anyone else, I'd want to smack them for being a walking case of sugar shock. But I'm just giddily floating along.”

I lean over to shoulder-b.u.t.t her, then raise my brows as I look at my brother. ”Of course, she'd drop Siobhan in a heartbeat if Kirstie Ellen Todd was available and willing.”

Ca.s.s tosses her hand up to her forehead like a Victorian-era woman with the vapors. ”Alas, she's off the market again. She and Graham Elliott made up. Pregnant,” she adds in a stage whisper.

Ethan looks at me, a little hesitant at first, but then his grin widens with Ca.s.s's antics.

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