Chapter 32
32
DEAN
T he county jail loomed in front of me, a block of cold concrete that seemed to suck the warmth right out of the summer air. I killed the engine but didn’t move. The last time I’d been here, I’d been maybe twelve, standing beside my old man as he bailed out one of his drinking buddies. Even then, the place had made my skin crawl.
Nothing good happened here. Now, Seth was on the other side of those doors. My little brother.
The kid who used to trail after me like a shadow. Seth was always going to be the little brother I protected. I protected him from our own father, neighborhood bullies, and anyone else that tried to hurt him. That was my role in this life—look out for my brother. I couldn’t explain how that came to be. I appointed myself his forever bodyguard. I was constantly trying to save him from himself. No matter what I did, it failed. Seth had turned into this reckless stranger staring down criminal charges.
The last thing I wanted was for my brother to land his ass in prison for years. That wasn’t going to help him. Although I couldn’t say it wouldn’t because, up until now, nothing I did or didn’t do was helping him. Maybe this was the thing.
I shook my head. No way. If he went in and served real time, it would destroy him. It would push him all the way into the dark side. He would lean into the darkness. If and when he got out of prison, he’d be lost to me. He’d jump on the yo-yo game so many felons found themselves in. He’d be in and out of jail and prison until he went in for good. The thought caused me actual, physical pain in my chest.
My phone buzzed in the cupholder. Portia’s name flashed on the screen.
You got this. I know how hard this is going to be. Call me when you’re done—I’ll be here.
I exhaled, rubbing my thumb over the screen before shoving the phone in my pocket. That was all I needed—just enough of a push to get my ass out of the truck.
I opened the door with a sense of dread. Damn . Was this really going to be my life now? Was I going to be visiting my brother in prison once a week? The air inside hit me like a punch. Sweat, cigarettes, piss, and something metallic underneath it all. My stomach turned. A deputy behind what I assumed was bulletproof glass glanced up, recognition flickering in his eyes.
“Dean Jackson.” He tilted his chin. “Here for Seth?”
I nodded, my jaw so tight it ached. I glanced at the woman sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs with two kids that looked to be under two and she was obviously pregnant. Another woman wearing leopard print tights and a black tank that showed off her ample cleavage was bouncing her foot as she stared at her phone. And then, in the corner, was an older guy, well-dressed and looking ashamed, trying to fade into the cement wall.
“ID,” the deputy said.
I pulled it out of my wallet and slid it under the glass. He quickly scanned it and handed it back.
“Sign here.” He slid a clipboard under the glass. “No phones, no bags. Just you.”
I scrawled my name on the clipboard and shoved it back. The deputy hit a button, and the heavy door buzzed open with a jarring clank. I stepped through, noting two more deputies watching me like I might try to break Seth out.
The deputy led me through a series of doors, each one buzzing open with a sound that set my teeth on edge. The visitor’s room was small, with scuffed linoleum and a table bolted to the floor. I sat, my knee bouncing under the table, until the door on the far side opened.
Seth shuffled in, cuffs around his wrists, his orange jumpsuit hanging off his frame.
And that fucking bruise. A dark, mottled purple blooming across his cheekbone, the skin split at the edge. My vision went red at the edges. Someone had laid hands on my brother.
Seth dropped into the chair across from me, his shoulders hunched. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Took you long enough,” he muttered.
I forced my voice steady. “What happened to your face?”
A shrug. “Not everyone here’s as easygoing as I am.”
Damn it, Seth.
My fingers curled into fists under the table. I wanted names. I wanted to find whoever did this and make sure they never touched him again. But that wasn’t why I was here. If Seth didn’t turn things around now, he was going to continue down the wrong path. Who knows where he would end up in ten years if he continued to go down this road? It could be a lot worse than the charges he’s facing now. I had to let the urge to save him go. That little boy on the lake deserved better, and Seth almost made himself a murderer. It can’t be ignored.
This is tough love. I should have done it years ago. Maybe we wouldn’t be sitting here right now if I had.
“I got you a lawyer,” I said instead. “You’re gonna take the deal he works out. No fighting it, no screwing around. You’re not going to find a better deal or lawyer.”
Seth scoffed, finally looking up. “You love pulling the strings, don’t you?”
The words hit hard. I leaned forward. “No. I hate it. I hate that I have to be here. I hate that you put me here.” I held his gaze. “But I won’t let you drown just because you’re too damn stubborn to swim.”
Something flickered in Seth’s eyes—fear, maybe. Regret. His throat worked as he swallowed hard.
For a second, I saw the kid he used to be. The one who’d looked up to me, who’d followed me everywhere, who’d trusted me to fix everything.
Then his shoulders slumped. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll take the deal.”
Relief twisted sharp in my chest. It wasn’t an apology. It wasn’t some grand moment of understanding. But it was a start.
Seth shifted in his seat, the cuffs clinking softly against the table. He looked smaller than I’d ever seen him, like the orange jumpsuit was swallowing him whole. His eyes darted around the room, never settling for long. I could tell he hated every second of this. I didn’t blame him. My skin was crawling just being in here. Despite the many near misses, he’d never actually gone to jail. I wasn’t a saint either, but I had never gone beyond the drunk tank. Neither of us had been in the orange jumpsuit.
This was a new low for both of us. It was killing me to see him like this. Every instinct was screaming at me to slap down ten grand and buy his way out of this hellhole.
“You holding up?” I asked, keeping my voice low. I hated how awkward it sounded. We weren’t the kind of brothers who talked about feelings or checked in on each other. But damn, if I didn’t want to know how he was really doing.
Seth shrugged again, his gaze dropping to the table. “It’s jail, Dean. Not exactly a vacation.”
I wanted to shake him. Wanted to grab him by the shoulders and ask him what the hell he was thinking when he got himself into this mess. But I couldn’t. Not here. Not now. Instead, I clenched my fists under the table and forced myself to breathe.
“You look like hell,” I said instead, nodding at his face.
He touched the bruise gingerly, wincing. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly a spa in here.”
My jaw tightened so hard it felt like my teeth might crack. Whoever did that to him—I wanted them to feel it ten times worse. But that wasn’t an option right now. Not if I wanted him to make it out of here in one piece. I forced my voice to stay even, though every word felt like pulling teeth. “They’re coming after you, huh?”
Seth snorted, a bitter sound that didn’t suit him. “What gave it away? The shiner or the attitude?”
“Cut the crap,” I snapped, leaning in closer. “You think I’m here to joke around? You think I’ve got nothing better to do than sit in this hellhole and listen to your smartass remarks?”
He flinched, and for a second, I regretted the harshness. But then his jaw tightened, and that stubborn defiance I knew too well flared in his eyes. “You don’t have to be here, Dean. No one’s forcing you.”
“The hell I don’t,” I shot back. “You’re my brother. Whether you like it or not—whether I like it or not—that means something.”
Seth looked at me, giving me a glimpse of something raw and unspoken passing between us before he looked away again. He didn’t say anything, but I could see the anger, shame, maybe even a flicker of hurt in that one look.
“Look,” I said, trying to rein in my frustration. “Take the deal. Do the time. Keep your head down. And when you get out, we’ll figure it out. I’m not going to abandon you, Seth. I know that’s what you think I’m doing, but I’m not. I’m trying to help you get your shit together. You don’t want to end up like him , do you?”
We both knew who I was talking about. Our father. The loser. Thief. Addict. If there was a derogatory term, it applied. And yet we both still missed the asshole. Neither of us would ever admit it, but it was true. First Mom died and then Dad followed a year later. Despite all the bullshit and fighting and declarations they hated each other, they couldn’t live without each other.
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The shadow that crossed his face said enough. We both carried that man’s legacy like a curse, and neither of us wanted to admit how much it still shaped us.
I leaned back in the chair, the cold metal digging into my spine. “You’re better than this, Seth. You always have been. But you keep making choices that prove otherwise.”
He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure. Because you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? Perfect Dean Jackson, never puts a foot wrong.”
“I’m not perfect,” I said through gritted teeth. “But at least I’m not sitting here in an orange jumpsuit trying to make jokes about it.”
It was harsh, but it felt like the only way to get him to pay attention. “What do you want from me, Dean? To beg for forgiveness? To promise I’ll be a saint from now on?”
“No,” I said, my voice softer now. “I just want you to stop screwing up your life.”
“Dude, it was a fucking joke,” he hissed.
“You keep saying that and you better get used to having your ass handed to you on the daily while you’re forced to share a cell with two other guys.”
The deputy knocked on the door, signaling time was up. Seth stood, his cuffs clinking as he adjusted his stance.
Our time together went too fast. “The lawyer will be here. Please, for the love of God, just shut up and listen for once.”
He said nothing. The deputy led him away. I was left staring at the empty chair.
I’d gotten him a lawyer. I’d gotten him to agree to the deal. That was all I could do. His choices, his consequences. I didn’t want to lose my brother, but I also couldn’t keep letting him drag me down.