Hard Tackle (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel) by Loren Celia

Author:Loren, Celia [Loren, Celia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hearts Collective Publishing
Published: 2015-12-08T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the elusive Bree Driscoll." I turn to see Jack leaning in the doorway, sipping a protein shake. Miles drove off just before Ray got home, and I've just been watching TV since he left, feeling oddly drained.

"Amazing how little you can see someone that you live with when you're in a house this big," I observe, turning back to the screen as he walks in and sits next to me on the couch. "It's just this BBC detective show," I explain, nodding at the TV.

"Don't worry, I wasn't going to ask you to switch it to Sportscenter or anything," he says with a grin.

"Do they still talk about my dad?" I ask abruptly. I keep watching the screen, trying to seem casual, but he's been on my mind since Miles asked me about him.

Jack pauses for a moment. "Sometimes," he finally admits.

"As a joke?"

"Sometimes," he repeats. "More often as a warning. Or maybe a tragedy."

"Mmm," I murmur, feeling a pang in my chest. Jack doesn't pursue the issue, even though I'm the one who brought it up, for which I'm grateful. "I wish he had been all bad, so then I could hate him."

"That would make it easier," Jack agrees quietly.

"But before it all happened, he was fun, and he treated my mom well. He was the life of the party. People were drawn to him. I'd like to say the fame and the money were what changed him, but I don't think it was just that. I think he must have had something in him all along."

"Do you think he was an addict?"

"Yes. I mean, right? Don't you think he must have been? Any rational person would have stopped gambling long before he did. Sometimes I try to imagine how scared he must have been, to do what he did, and I almost feel sorry for him. But then I remember that he left us afterward, and I want to punch him in the face."

I feel Jack's fingers on my hand, and glance down to see that I've actually balled my hand into a fist. He strokes my fingers until they release, and I feel shocked at his gentleness. A tear slips down my cheek, and I hastily wipe it away. I hate feeling vulnerable.

"Sorry," I whisper.

"I was mad at my mom, too, when she died," Jack murmurs.

"What did she die of?"

He glances quickly at me. "She killed herself. I thought you knew."

I feel the breath leave my body. "No…no, my mom never told me. I'm so sorry."

"I know it wasn't her fault, really. She had some postpartum depression with me, but it was worse with Lex. But sometimes I'm still angry. Can't help it, really."

"No."

"It drives me at times, the anger. But I'd give everything back to help her." I stare at his hands as he plays with the top of his shaker cup.

"We're both just very sad people, aren't we?" I say with a small smile. To my relief, he leans his head back with a bark of laughter.

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