Chapter Thirteen JACKIE #4
“We clean it first,” Eliza says, passing me one of the cloths. “I hope we can get the grime off without whipping out the vinegar.” She scrunches her nose and makes a mock gagging noise. “I hate the smell more than you hate bugs.”
I laugh, scrubbing my side. “I’ll do my best, but I haven’t had too much practice.”
The Rawlings didn’t do manual labor. Even when I moved out to live on my own, my parents wouldn’t budge on me having at least one live-in member of cleaning staff. Most probably, it was also a way to keep tabs on me.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed about,” Eliza says kindly, then smirks. “I’d be more worried about your driving skills.”
“Have you been talking to Adam?” I huff. “If you listen to his version of events, I almost killed him once or twice.”
“The man you can’t stand to be in the same room with?” She grabs a small brush and hands me another. “Use that for the carvings. You gave him a ride?”
Her easy manner loosens something in me. I know it deep in my bones that she’s safe. I’ve been holding this secret for so long, I’ll implode if I don’t share it. “This was eight years ago. When we were…together.” My voice is close to cracking. “We used to have so much fun.”
She makes a good effort to seem neutral, but the startled look spreading across her features betrays her shock. “What changed? Now you look ready to kill each other. Or—” She pauses for a moment, resting the end of her brush on her chin. “Fuck. It really is a fine line.”
Telling her too much might make her view him differently, and I don’t want that. “I-I had to leave New York. Broke things off, and he wasn’t too happy about it.”
I leave out the part where I was heartbroken and how much it hurts to be so close to him. He makes it harder to deny that I might not have gotten over us.
“Hm.” Eliza hums, dragging the brush over the wood. “Weird dynamic. I could’ve sworn he came here for you.”
My hand freezes in mid-air. “Why would you say that?”
“Umm.” All of a sudden, she doesn’t want to meet my eyes. “Here, let me show you how to sand the wood.” She puts on a mask and reaches for her pink sander, turning it on. “It has these stains here, see?”
“I’m all for learning new skills,” I raise my voice over the noise. “But you’re hiding something.”
Eliza looks like her red hair bled into her temples. Her shoulders drop, and she kills the sander. “It’s something Carter mentioned.”
My oblivious brother, who knows nothing about what happened? A knock on the barn door robs me of the chance to find out what Eliza meant.
God, I can’t escape him. Adam steps inside, and something about him is different.
Stronger, calmer, looking so much better than he did at that late-night meeting at Robertson’s house.
Mom’s revelations haunt me. Did he really care that much that I left?
Wasn’t he too busy spending time in bars with other women?
But I didn’t confront him about it. I just left.
“You ladies have magic in your veins,” he says. “It already looks so much better.”
Eliza beams, turning the chest around. “We’ll finish it in time for your mom’s birthday.”
“You had me butchering Lori’s present?!” I shriek in a panic.
“I’m a simple boy from rural Minnesota. Easily impressed.” He smiles like he means it, and my heart skips a beat. Doubts I buried in London claw their way to the surface.
“I’ve been rudely commanded to tell you lovely ladies that dinner is ready,” he says. “On a side note, Carter is one undercooked beef away from turning into that foul-mouthed British chef, so take it easy on him. He’s tried something new.”
“Oh, no, poor man,” Eliza coos. “I’d better check on him before we end up with toast for dinner.”
“Go ahead, I’ll clean up.” I make myself more comfortable in the large, mismatched chair, and for some mysterious reason, I quickly add, “Adam will help me.”
His brows rise, but he smiles at Eliza. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t get overwhelmed and start reorganizing your paint cans.”
I laugh, and his expression slackens, like I’ve grown another head.
“You’re in a surprisingly good mood,” he says in a hushed tone once Eliza is out of earshot.
Leaning back, I decide to be honest, for once. “I haven’t had many reasons to be lately.”
Adam hesitates, cleaning bottles in hand. “Things have been difficult between us,” he says slowly, but his green eyes catch my gaze. “But if you need to talk about all of this…I’m still a good listener.”
The sharp twist in my heart leaves me breathless. Years of missing him and our talks hit me with such force, tears prickle, and I let out a whispered, “Thanks.”
Adam doesn’t try to fill the thick silence that’s enveloped the barn to the point where I’m fidgeting.
As he puts everything back, my head lolls to the side, and I watch him moving through the space, not seeming in a rush, his T-shirt stretching over his wide back every time he places something on the higher shelves. That muscled back that coiled with tension, that I used to cling to when we—
Adam turns suddenly, his gaze fine-tuned on me, like he can see the images burning in the back of my brain. My pulse picks up as he rounds the workbench, never breaking eye contact, stopping so close his scent drowns me.
He bends and grips the armrests so casually, but his face is taut with focus, turning my palms clammy. “What am I going to do with you?”
“What do you mean?” I breathe, fighting the urge to trace the line of his jaw.
A hum rumbles in the back of his throat and pours over me like warm water. “You still have the same tells.” His knuckles are white on the dark wood. After a long pause, he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s almost like you forgot you hate me.”
The retort balances reflexively on the tip of my tongue, but I hear the fragile hope beneath his words.
I take a deep breath and match his stare. “I don’t.”
Admitting it out loud is like ripping out a part of me and gifting it to him on a silver platter.
Everything about him is still, only his eyes are like the swell of the deep sea. He leans in, lips close enough I could…
Instead, he smiles, small and sad. “Could’ve fooled me,” he finally says, pushing himself up. “Come on, Carter’s had enough time to cool down.”
It takes me a beat to stand and follow him on wobbly legs up to the house.
He was right. My brother beams, preening under his fiancée’s praise, who has her arms around his middle. Everything about them is so adorable, I get whiplash after the charged air in the barn.
Adam, seemingly unaffected, sets the table, elbowing Carter. “You never cooked for me before. Maybe we should’ve taken our relationship to the next level.”
I grab the napkins, following him around the table. “Not everything can be bought with sex.”
He smirks. “Not to gloat, but it has brought me some perks.”
“What do you mean?” Eliza frowns.
“Relax,” Adam chuckles, bringing out the glasses. “I’m not pimping myself out in the name of corporate espionage.”
“Sure,” I mutter. “Those women give you intel out of the goodness of their hearts.”
I never thought that nudging him toward Congressman Turner’s internship would set him on a path he excels so greatly in. Public affairs suits him in ways I didn’t anticipate. Information is his currency, and if the rumors are true, he’ll go to any lengths for his clients.
He stops, pressing a palm to his chest. “Bless them.”
“You know Casanova almost got himself killed several times.” I smile at him with false sweetness.
Adam places the last glass on the table and looks at me, his forehead comically scrunched.
“What are you, the Venetian Inquisition?”
“Just saying. Carter doesn’t like funerals.”
“And you’d have no problem with my untimely demise?”
I shrug, setting down the Wellington. “I look good in black.”
“I should’ve gone with Mom to Uncle Kenneth’s,” Carter groans as he pulls the chair out for Eliza, who’s pressing her lips to the point they’re invisible to keep herself from laughing.
Adam throws his head back, laughing. It’s infectious. Genuine. And beautiful. He’s shaking his head when his brows shoot up, and he fishes the buzzing phone out of his pocket.
“Excuse me.” He heads to the office, shutting the door.
I get to enjoy this renewed ease with him, letting the past melt away, until reality comes crashing down.
The giddy warmth in me curdles when Carter sighs. “You know I love you, right?”
Oh, shit.
He looks slightly uncomfortable as he gestures vaguely. “I don’t know if this banter is yours and Adam’s…” Carter looks like he sucked on a lemon. “…way of flirting.”
Eliza chokes on her water and hides behind her palms, muffling the poorly suppressed laughs, her shoulders shaking.
I flush hot. When I open my mouth to strongly refute the accusation with a few choice words, he holds his palm up.
“Trust me. It’s nothing I like to think about. But…you’re both in your thirties. Act like it.”
This again. “I’m sincerely tired of your big brother wisdom.”
With a nerve-grating nonchalance, he shrugs. “Just calling it as I see it.”
“Maybe look harder. I’m not your teenage daughter,” I grit out.
He leans back, crossing his arms. “You’ve never held back on my personal life.”
My fingers curl into fists in my lap. “I never insulted you.”
“You called me an idiot.”
I throw a look at Eliza. “In my defense, he was rotting away in his penthouse because he took what I said once too literally. So what was I supposed to say?”
Footsteps approach the dining room, putting an end to the discussion.
Adam lowers himself into the seat across from me with that half smile that burns through me.
Amusement is dancing in his expression, but for the first time in all these years since we’ve met, loved and loathed each other, I can’t hold his gaze.
“Did I miss something?” he says, picking up on the awkward vibe, and my cheeks flush again.
“Sibling squabble,” Carter waves him off.
I bristle. “I thought we agreed you’ll stop treating me like a child.”
“Then stop acting like one all the time.”