Chapter 20
KAIRO
I both love and hate being at the Estate, surrounded by my family.
I agreed to stay through the New Year and manage my team from afar while they continued to clean up the weakening gestapo presence in Chicago.
I love how pissed off the wannabe regime is that there’s a violent response to their violent attacks. How offended they are is hilarious.
However, being around my family is… difficult.
I love them. Of course, I love them. There’s constant excitement right now because of Sulien’s arrival.
Two more babies are on their way, too—Arath’s first and Myro’s first. Myro’s is the first one we’re watching grow in real time since Jessica is here.
Watching her yell and threaten Loren is, admittedly, hilarious when he pretends to innocently ask questions that trigger Jessica.
I don’t miss his smirk when she eventually turns away.
Honestly, I’m slightly fascinated with Jessica.
Well, not Jessica herself, but that she’s growing my nephew.
Or my… great nephew? Is that how this technically works?
Whatever the actual term is, I love how there are visual markers of my new nephew growing.
I might have a secret stash of baby things hidden away that I sneak into their cars or wherever.
Sneaking gifts into Axl’s nursery is easy since it’s in the big house.
Because I visit Emmy and Suli often, sneaking them things is equally easy.
What’s not easy is letting the walls I’ve lived with for the majority of my life fall. It’s not difficult around Malcolm when we’re alone. Seriously, it’s a fucking relief. A breath of fresh air. I didn’t realize how heavy carrying around my own internal defenses was.
I guess I’m not ready to trust everyone yet. Nothing has truly changed. Not between my family and me.
As I step out of the elevator on the top floor of Jalon’s office building, the people I pass shift to move out of my way.
My resting bitch face is loud, apparently.
Maybe I’m more aware of it now because I know what it’s like to be looked at without the wary, expectant expression that I face everywhere.
Malcolm has ruined me.
Jalon’s door is open. He’s sitting at his computer with a generic expression. I’ve always marveled at the way he’s schooled his features. Never shows agitation, irritation, or anger. It’s always mild and professional.
His blue eyes turn toward the door to look at me before he sits up. “Kairo,” he greets, like I’m anyone off the street. Not like I’m his brother. Does he greet our other brothers this way when they approach him at work? He called me here, so I suppose I’m expecting an indifferent greeting.
I step inside, swinging the door closed behind me. Without speaking, I sit in the chair opposite his and wait for whatever it is he called me in for. I’m vaguely feeling like I was called to the principal’s office. Weird feeling to have at thirty-eight.
Jalon opens his desk drawer and pulls out a small box. A jewelry box? Not a ring box, exactly. Bigger than that.
He sets it on his desk as he pushes the drawer shut, then slides it toward me. I stare at it for several seconds before meeting Jalon’s eyes.
“Open it.”
Something in my chest tightens, and I don’t want to open it. Pressing my lips together, I reach for the box. This is awkward. I hate everything about it. Literally, everything.
Jalon, ever patient, doesn’t push me as I hold it in my hands like it’s going to burst into flames. After waiting for the ground beneath my feet to calm the fuck down, I lift the lid. All at once, the world around me jerks as if a door slammed so hard that the building shook.
Memories flood me. Memories I forgot about. Memories of this around Jalon’s wrist and my fingers always tracing the patterns. Memories of seeing it on him from afar and feeling comforted. Memories of Jalon hugging me tightly in his arms as a small child, and it pressing into my chest.
It’s a weird influx of confusion as I stare at it. Emotion wars with the angry energy that hangs around me like a shield.
“Do you remember where I got that?” Jalon asks.
I try to remember. Maybe it’s here in the racing emotions, but they’re flipping so quickly that I can’t find it. I shake my head.
“We went to the mall. Our parents brought us. Noaz was still in their carrier, which means you were probably just over one. Maybe nearing a year-and-a-half. As always, Mom and Dad wandered off, leaving you four with me. Four of you. Four little siblings. I didn’t have enough hands to keep track of you all.
Arath was slamming his open palm on the jewelry case behind us, and I was…
angry. So fucking angry that our parents left you lot with me—something they were doing more and more since Mom got pregnant with Noaz.
In a moment of rebellion, I picked you up and pointed you at the jewelry case and told you to choose something.
Anything. I was using Mom and Dad’s credit card to punish them for treating me like a built-in babysitter.
You chose that bracelet. I’m not surprised you don’t remember, though.
In hindsight, I’d be shocked if you did. ”
I trace the lines on it as Jalon speaks. I never hear him cuss, so I flinched when he did a moment ago.
“I always teased you that the bracelet was a gift from you, and maybe you understood that it was something special we shared because you always touched it. Always traced it. It seemed to comfort you, and it was something that only we shared.”
“You stopped wearing it,” I say, hearing the accusation in my voice.
Jalon sighs. “Mom and Dad left you four with me a few years later, and the relationship between you and me shifted. I couldn’t just be your brother anymore, something I think you felt.
Something you all felt. While I tried not to treat you differently, the fact that I was now legally, emotionally, and physically responsible for you forced me to change the dynamics of our relationship.
On top of you four, I had my kids, and admittedly, I needed help.
Something I wouldn’t admit, and hell help you if you tried to suggest or offer help.
I thought I could do it all. I tried to do it all.
I think… I didn’t realize how drastically I failed until I went home to my kids one day to find five of my children protecting one another with Loren holding a butcher knife in threat toward his mother. ”
“That wasn’t your fault,” I say, frowning.
He shakes his head. “I’m not going to discuss whose fault it is.
We’re always going to disagree. My point is that it was that single moment that made me reflect on the last twenty years or so.
Every mistake began to shine in my head like a lighthouse.
I think you understand why most of my guilt is directed toward my kids. ”
I nod, and while I’d really like to argue that it truly isn’t his fault that Martha was a piece of shit, I don’t. Jalon is a stubborn jerk sometimes. It’s not worth the energy to argue.
“As I often reflected on the moments I fucked up, one of those moments is in regard to you.” I’m shaking my head, but Jalon ignores me.
“You never needed me to be your parent. You always needed me to be your brother. Even as a young child, when our parents left, you still didn’t need me in a capacity other than your brother, but I didn’t know how to balance the roles in my life.
I’m not sure I do now, to be honest. I was pulled in so many different directions between family and VDT.
Oxley needed an advocate to ensure he had the accommodations he required, that the schools were fucking around on.
I was there more than anywhere. Then there was Noaz, who was coming home crying because of their long hair and pink sneakers, and that was a fight I didn’t understand how to handle.
I was on my own, trying to let Arath be a kid and not be forced to help with you three like our parents forced on me, so…
I allowed our close relationship to slip away as I turned into a surrogate father instead of the brother you needed. ”
I hate all his words. Nothing about this does anything to calm the roiling ball of emotions in my chest. It wasn’t his fault. None of it. If I say those words, my voice is going to shake, though.
“I’m sorry,” Jalon says, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Fuck. “I had the equivalent of ten kids, and I couldn’t handle that like I thought I could. You didn’t need my constant attention in the same way Oxley and Noaz did, so I let you face the world on your own.”
“Did Malcolm tell you this?” I accuse.
“No,” Jalon says quietly. “Not in so many words. The day he returned, he observed that your assholery—his word—was caused by a deep, unrelenting need to keep your heart safe. He suspected that you had some abandonment issues.”
I wince. “What a bitch,” I hiss, even as I know he’s going to hold me close and croon to me when I confront him later. My shoulders sag because I look forward to it like nothing else.
“I spent a while trying to determine what I did wrong—”
“I hate when you do that,” I snap and look at my brother angrily. “You were given a shit deal, and you did the best that you could. You were the father of ten kids. Especially when you brought the boys here. You were a single parent to four kids you didn’t ask for. You did the best you could!”
Jalon watches me. He doesn’t stare. Jalon never stares. He simply watches me as if he’s unaffected by my outburst. It makes me want to shake him.
“Stop being a martyr. You did a good job, Dad.”
He sighs, and even that sounds debonair. I hate how he’s always so fucking put together.
“Okay,” Jalon says after a minute.
Silence spreads between us, and I stare down at the bracelet in my hand. I’m not sure when I took it out of the box. It’s kind of gaudy, and yet, it’s the most beautiful thing.
“I don’t want to be your father anymore, Kairo,” Jalon says, and I hold my breath because I can already anticipate the next words out of his mouth. “I want to be your brother. Only your brother.”
Tears sting my eyes. “Fuck,” I mutter.
I jump when I realize Jalon has gotten out of his chair and come around the desk to stand in front of me. I practically leap out of my seat as soon as his hand rests on mine and hug him fiercely. At least if I’m making a fool of myself by hugging him, he can’t see the tears I can’t hold in.
“Can I apologize for letting our relationship break?” he asks quietly.
“No. Don’t you fucking dare.”
He nods, holding me in a hug that feels so fucking familiar. I’m once again that little boy in my big brother’s arms.
“How about—”
“Stop trying to apologize. I don’t forgive you for something you didn’t do, so shut up,” I hiss.
Jalon chuckles. “You’re as impossible as my sons.”
“They’re smart kids.”
He hums. The silence that settles around us isn’t tense.
Not anymore. It’s calm and comfortable. Warm.
Jalon doesn’t let me go. There’s no indication that he wants to let me go.
His embrace never slackens. It remains as strong as mine, though he somehow has far more finesse in the hold than I do.
I feel desperate and crazy. Jalon holds all that wild together.
“I love you, Kairo. I am sorry that I never realized how much you needed to hear that. Both as a kid and now.”
“Fucking shit, Jalon,” I mutter. “You’re such an asshole. Shut up.”
He smiles. I can feel it. It irritates me since it fills me with warmth.
Sighing dramatically, arms tightening around my brother against my will, I grit out, “I love you too. Just… like… keep it to yourself.”
Jalon chuckles. His hand slides into my hair, and I practically melt into him. Now I am that little kid that he’s holding. I turn my face into him, and take a deep breath. How does he still smell like my memories?
“Are you going to let me into your life?” Jalon asks. “As your brother?”
“Yeah, Jalon,” I whisper. “I’m working on not being a jackass, but it’s not sticking all that well. So… I can’t make any promises that you’re going to want to hang around or anything.”
He nods, and my chest tightens. “I want to hang around, Kairo. I’m looking forward to having my brother back.”
The tightness in my chest releases in a sudden, sharp exhale. “Me too.”
We don’t talk again. I stay in Jalon’s arms through missed phone calls and knocks on the door that he doesn’t answer. When I point it out after the second knock, he simply states, “This is more important than whatever it is they want.”
Before I leave, Jalon puts the hideously beautiful bracelet on my wrist and traces one of the lines.
A line that’s faded because I touched it so often.
I leave his office feeling… overwhelmed, so I look for Malcolm.
He’s hanging with my nephews, so I hesitate.
I’m feeling far too raw to keep my sharpness in check.
Thankfully, Malcolm sees me, and my stomach flips when he smiles. He meets me in the hall and cuts me off when I tell him I don’t want to interrupt with his mouth on mine.
“I want to be held,” I whisper, hearing the way my voice wobbles.
“All right, baby girl,” he croons and picks me up.
My heart lurches, and my eyes snap open. My nephews watch, all with big, knowing smiles, as Malcolm walks away with me in his arms. Choosing me. Always choosing me. Just as he promised.
I tuck my face into his neck and take another deep breath. I’m safe with him.
Up next, at long last, is Daddy Jalon himself. I’ve been just as excited and impatient as you so hopefully, the king himself lives up to all the hype.