Stark International: Under My Skin Part 13

"She has a little crush," I say.

"h.e.l.l, who can blame her? Todd is hot."

"Exactly," Ca.s.s says. "Of course, Siobhan is hotter. Be still my heart."

Ethan tosses an olive from his drink at her, and I ask Ethan about his love life.

"Happily non-monogamous," he says. "Or did you miss the part where I pointed out that Laguna Beach is like a buffet of hot women?"

"Neanderthal."

"And proud of it."

We move from insults to his house hunt. "All I really need is two bedrooms in a complex with an exercise room. I'm not picky, you know? Mostly I just want to get out of Mom and Dad's house."

"I don't blame you," I say dryly, and beside me Ca.s.s grabs my hand under the table. She's known part of my story for years, but it's only been recently that I told her about my dad's role in what happened to me as a teen. Ethan doesn't know any of that, and I will go to my grave protecting that secret.

"Dad said he's been calling you," Ethan says. "I really think" He cuts himself off. "You know what? Never mind."

I should just drop it, but I don't. "You really think what?"

"I just thinkyou know. You should see what he has to say." He doesn't look at me when he answers, and the tuna sits uncomfortably in my stomach. Because I have no interest in hearing what my dad has to say. And Ethan knows that.

Beside me, Ca.s.s winces, and I realize that I've been squeezing her hand so hard it's a wonder the bones are still solid. I shoot her a silent apology and release her hand. As for Ethan, I just shake my head. "We don't have anything to talk about."

"He p.i.s.sed you off at dinner," he says, referring to the dinner he, Jackson, and I shared with my parents the night Ethan got home from London. The night that Jacksond.a.m.n himtold my dad what Reed did to me.

"I get that," Ethan continues. "But don't you think"

"No." I really was p.i.s.sed as h.e.l.l at Jackson, and we worked past it. But that doesn't mean I want to get all warm and fuzzy with my father. That, in fact, is the last thing I want.

"Silly . . ." He trails off, leaving my nickname hanging in the air.

I pull out my phone and check the time. "Listen, I have to go," I lie. "I told Jackson I'd meet him after drinks."

"s.h.i.+t, now you're mad."

"I'm not," I say. "Really. Just don't push me on this, okay?"

He hesitates, then nods. "Don't," he adds, when I start to put cash on the table. "I've got it."

"Thanks. I'll see you later, all right?" I lean over and give Ca.s.s a hug. She squeezes tight, whispering, "Are you okay?" I nod in reply, then give her another squeeze.

Ethan stands as I leave, and I hug him close. "I love you. But I can't deal with"

"Yeah," he says, then shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at the floor. "I know."

I'm still not sure what's up with my brother. I mean, I get that he wishes we could be one big, happy family. I wish that, too. Or I used to, a long time ago. But I've made peace with the fact that my parents are not and never will be part of my inner circle. Or, frankly, my outer circle. And I wish that Ethan could make peace with that, too. Because if he's going to keep pus.h.i.+ng on the parental reunion thing every time we get together, that's going to get ugly.

I want my brother, but I really, really don't want the baggage.

I'm in the car and firing up the engine when I see Ethan sprinting toward me. I'd parked next to my parents' silver Camry, but I don't think Ethan is racing for his car. No, he's making a beeline to me.

I roll down my window. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I know. I get that. I'm sorry," he says. "Listen, can I get in for just a sec?"

"Iokay." I adore my brother too much to deny himor to stay mad at him. "Get in."

He does, and then he just sits there. His hands are in his lap, and he's picking at his cuticles. It's a habit that he broke when he was a freshman in college, and seeing him doing it now only reinforces what I've already figured outwhatever he has to tell me, it's bad. And while I'd started out thinking that this was about me or our father, now I'm wondering if there's something else on his mind.

"Are you in trouble?" I ask.

"Nono, I'm fine. Well," he adds with an odd little shrug, "I'm not fine. But that's not the point. Oh, h.e.l.l. Listen, I want to say I'm sorry about that. About Jackson's little girl, I mean. It's just that you surprised me. And I was on edge after the stuff with Dad yesterday, ands.h.i.+t. Dammit, I wasn't going to say anything about that. f.u.c.k."

"Is he sick? Come on, Ethan, you're scaring me." I may not have the greatest relations.h.i.+p with my dadh.e.l.l, I may not have any relations.h.i.+p with my dadbut I don't wish him ill. If for no other reason than I know that losing our father would hurt Ethan.

Beside me, my brother takes a deep breath. And then, very fast, he says, "He told me."

For a moment, I truly don't have any idea what Ethan is talking about. But then the horror sets in. My stomach twists into a knot, and my hand slowly rises to my mouth. I want to cry out, to protest, but I can't seem to form words.

"Oh, G.o.d, Syl. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his forehead in his hands. He's breathing hard. He may be crying.

"Why?" My whispered word is m.u.f.fled behind my hand, and I'm surprised I can even force it out. I'm no longer real. I'm ice. I'm frozen. Trapped someplace harsh and unfair. Someplace where secrets are revealed and nightmares are relived and it never, ever stops no matter how much you think you've gotten past it all.

That one word keeps running through my headwhy why why why whyand there's nothing else. Just darkness and betrayal and the haunting pull of my nightmares.

It's not until I feel Ethan's hands on my shoulders and hear him saying, "Syl? Dammit, Syloh, h.e.l.l, oh, s.h.i.+t," that I realize I've gone away. And although I don't want to, I know I have to come back. Because this is Ethan and I love him, and I never wanted him to know how much I suffered. But now he knows, because his words have kicked me under.

Breathe, dammit. Just breathe.

"Syl." He puts his hand on my shoulder, then leans over so his whole arm can go around me. "It's okay. It's okay. And I'm so sorry you went through that, and I'm so sorry it was because of me, and"

"No." The word bursts out of me from the dark place, so forcefully that my throat hurts from the effort of it, and I sit up straight. "No, don't you dare feel guilty. Dammit, Ethan, I didn't want you to ever know. Why did he tell you? Why would he put that on you?"

"Hehe said he didn't really understand what was happening"

"Bulls.h.i.+t."

"He said that now you were being blackmailed. That Jackson told him. Is that true?"

I nod.

"He said I needed to know"

"No! I never wanted you to know!"

"He said I needed to know in case it came out," he continues, his voice soothing. "He said it might because it was Reed who took the pictures, and with the murder the police or the press might find out. And if it goes public you'd need me."

"That's bulls.h.i.+t," I say. "He doesn't care about what I need. He never did. He's protecting himself. Making sure you learn the truth about the money from him and not from the tabloids."

"Syl, no. He's really sorry. He wants"

"No." I scream the word then slap my hands over my ears. "I don't care what he wants."

Beside me, Ethan sags. "I'm sorry," he repeats, then pulls me awkwardly to him again. He rocks me gently. "I'm so, so sorry."

I let him hold me for a few minutes, because I love him and I know that he's hurting, too. But I need to be alone.

I pull out of his embrace, then blink at him through my tears. "Ethan, I"

"I don't want to leave you alone," he says, and I am grateful that at least I do not have to explain that I need him gone.

"I'll be okay. I just needI just need to sit here for a bit. Please, Ethan? I'll be okay." I'm not actually sure that I will. I'm holding on by a thread, but the last thing that I want is for him to see me snap and fall. "Please," I repeat.

He looks at me, as if trying to a.s.sess how serious I am. Then he nods. "Yeah. Okay." His voice is soft, and a little too careful. "I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Yes. Thanks." And then, because I know that he is hurting, too, I grab for his hand, catching him just as he has pushed open the door. "It wasn't your fault, Ethan. You know that, right? It wasn't your fault."

He looks at me, his eyes full of sadness. "I know. But that doesn't make it hurt less." He leans over and kisses me on the cheek. "We'll be okay, you and me."

"Promise?" I can't bear the thought of losing my brother, and the fact that my father has so blithely risked everything the two of us have built over the years only fuels my anger.

"Cross my heart."

He slips out quietly, then shuts the door. I watch as he climbs into the car parked next to me, then I tilt my head back and force myself to breathe. My instinct is to call Jackson, but I tell myself not to reach for my phone. I'm still too unsettled from our parting. I want himG.o.d knows I want himbut I need to get my s.h.i.+t together first.

I hug myself and breathe deep, then jump at the sound of an engine firing. I've been so lost in my own world that I didn't realize that Ethan has been sitting in the Toyota beside me all this time.

He turns my way, and his parting smile is both sweet and sad. I smile back, then blink away tears when he blows me a kiss before pulling out of the s.p.a.ce. As soon as he disappears from sight I lean back again and focus on breathing. On trying to calm down. To quell this rising fear.

And even as I'm fighting, I think how much has changed. Before, I would be jamming the key into the ignition and driving blindly to someplace like Avalon, with cheap drinks, dim lights, and a pounding beat. I'd be finding a guy. Taking him. f.u.c.king him. But with me in control. Me, proving to myself that I can keep it together. Me, saying f.u.c.k you to the world.

And then, G.o.ddammit, I'd go to Ca.s.s and have her ink that fungible man's name on my thigh, just one more toss-away man I cared nothing for, who only served to prove that I could keep my s.h.i.+t together. That I wouldn't lose control. That I could keep the nightmares at bay.

Now, I don't want to keep control. Now, I want to let go.

Now, I want Jackson.

I want to surrender to him. To let him hold me, to let him help me.

Want, yes. But more than that, I need it.

Need it so badly in fact that it scares me, because how would I get through this without Jackson? How will I manage if I lose him? If he's behind bars.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, because I can't think about that. Not now. Not when I'm so d.a.m.n raw.

And despite my lecture to myself about waiting until I got my s.h.i.+t together, I grab my phone from my purse. f.u.c.k waiting; right now, I need the man I love.

I am about to dial when the phone vibrates in my handJackson.

"I'm on my way," he says, the moment the call connects, and it is only when my body sags with relief that I realize just how tense I have been.

Ethan, I think as I clutch the phone tight like a lifeline. Thank G.o.d for Ethan.

"Don't hang up," I beg. "Stay with me."

"I'm right by your side, baby," he says. "I'm always by your side."

thirteen.

"That son of a b.i.t.c.h," Jackson says as he pulls me from my car and holds me tight. There is a wild tension to his body, as if he is being held together by some invisible force field that is now cracking under the strain of his effort, and the power that he is giving off warms me. But it does not calm me, and my nightmares are still reaching for me out of the shadows that surround our cars.

Nightmares of my father. Of Reed. And of my fear that things have s.h.i.+fted between Jackson and me.

I s.h.i.+ft, moving out of his arms.

"Jackson." His name is tight. A plea. A protest. "Are we okay?"

"Oh, baby." Something like regret washes across his face, and he presses his palm to my cheek. "I'm not sure if I'm the most selfish man on the planet or the luckiest. But yes, of course we're fine. How could we be anything else?"

I blink, and as I do, warm tears trickle down my cheeks. "I thoughtI wasn't sure. It felt like we were miles apart."

"No," he says as he pulls me close to him again. "Not miles. Not even inches. I'm right here."

I nod, because he isthank G.o.d he is. But I don't need to be held. Not tonight. Not now.

I know what I do needJackson is the one who taught me. I used to think that to fight my nightmares I had to take control. Had to f.u.c.k my way out of danger, taking what I wanted from men and keeping my own emotions at bay. Cool. Controlled. Like a shark trolling waters full of men.

But what I actually need is to surrender. And I need it desperately right now. Because the dark has cold fingers and they are starting to grab me.

"Come on," he says, gripping my arm and firmly steering me toward the Porsche. "I'm taking you home."

"No." I swallow. I can't say more. Can't put into words what I need. Because part of what I need is for him to understand.

For a moment, he just looks at me, his expression hard, wary.

Then he pulls me to him, and bends to whisper in my ear. "You don't get to say no, sweetheart. You say 'yes, sir,' or you say nothing at all."

Immediately the tension leaves my body. He gets it. Thank G.o.d, he gets it. And more, I think, he needs it, too.