Chapter Twenty-Five
Jason-Present
You Know You’re Right-Nirvana
It was a long day. The blower on the heater went out so I was crawling around in the attic most of the day trying to fix it with what I have instead of working on orders that need to be ready in a little over a month.
I did what I could to keep it going until the snow melted enough for us to get into town and get a new part for it. If we could even find one.
The fireplace in the living room did a great job of heating the downstairs, but since Dylan didn’t have a fireplace in his room, I needed to get the heater working so he didn’t freeze tonight.
After a long day of working on the heater, Dylan made elk chili with the last of the ground elk sausage from our Thanksgiving kill.
We’d have to go hunting soon since we were almost out of all our frozen meat.
We didn’t stock up enough for three people since we didn’t anticipate our unexpected guest.
After dinner, Dylan went to bed so Mara and I decided to have our nightly routine in our room instead of the living room.
Fire burning warm in the fireplace, Mara tucked under my arm while she read from a book out loud, blankets pulled over us.
She wore one of my t-shirts while I lounged comfortably in flannel pajama bottoms. I’d rather we were wearing nothing but we’ll get to that later.
For now, I just enjoyed listening to her voice.
She asked me once if my mom ever read aloud to me, like it was some weird oedipus thing.
But, much to her relief, my mom didn’t read aloud to us past the age of four.
Listening to her read had nothing to do with my mom and everything to do with the woman I found myself addicted to despite my best efforts.
Maybe if I stopped fighting the universe for bringing us together, I could acknowledge that it means something.
Maybe if I could stop punishing myself for the past, I could allow myself to be unabashedly happy.
Easier said than done.
As Mara ends the chapter, she places the ribbon she uses for a bookmark between the pages and shuts it with a satisfyingly soft thud. The sound of a hardback closing was akin to the wings of a bird flying by or snow hitting the windows. Subtle and peaceful.
Mara’s hand slides to my thigh over the comforter and I relish that.
Her touch sends shivers up my spine as though she were conducting electricity through her palm directly to my chest. It makes my cock twitch and my breath stutter.
You’d think after two months of sleeping together almost daily, I’d be sick of her.
But I’m not. Quite the opposite, I can’t get enough of her. I could spend all day buried between her legs with either my face, my hand, or my dick and it would never be enough. I could hear her come over and over like some people play the same song on repeat and never get tired of hearing it.
I need to be inside her constantly.
I need her.
Lacing my fingers with hers, I lift her hand to my mouth so I can press my lips to the back of her hand. Convey with the lightest touch what I can’t say aloud.
“Jason?” Mara’s voice holds the sound of hesitation instead of lust. Can’t have that.
I lower my lips to her shoulder and kiss a blazing trail from her shoulder socket to her neck to the back of her ear.
“Jason,” she giggles, trying to sound uneffected. “I need to tell you something.”
What’s wrong?
I wish I could ask. She has me worried, now.
Oh god, she’s pregnant! We’ve been pretty careful but we did have unprotected sex a few weeks ago when she said it wasn’t the right time of her menstrual cycle. What if she miscounted?
Jolting forward, I lock eyes with her and shoot a hand to her belly to see if I can feel anything. To let her know I know where this was going.
“What?” Her brow furrows. Then realization dawns on her. “What? No!” She shoves my hand away. “I’m not pregnant. But now I’m wondering if I should be using the treadmill every morning.”
I retract my hand and lean back against the stack of pillows waiting for whatever is coming. The tension is killing me. Mara usually has no problem expressing her thoughts freely. So what could have her tongue in such a bind that she can’t even speak.
That’s my MO.
After sucking on her bottom lip until its tinted rose, she confesses, “Dylan told me what happened to your father.” Oh shit.
Her eyes drop to the bed then flick back to me, the hazel kaleidoscopes peering at me through thick lashes. “Please don’t be angry with me. I wanted to know what happened. I think it’s only fair you know that I know. And I wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t blame yourself—.”
In a flash of fabric I throw the covers off and storm across the room, pull the door open, and cross the landing at the top of the stairs to Dylan’s room in a matter of seconds.
I’ve barged inside and hauled him out of bed before he even realizes what’s going on.
The vacant, perplexed expression on his face makes it look like he’s trying to figure out what day it is, let alone who has their hands fisted in his shirt.
I throw him against the wall and square up before sending my fist flying through the air to connect with his jaw.
I don’t hit him hard enough to break anything, just to scare the living shit out of him.
To punish him. How dare he fucking tell Mara one of my darkest secrets. We swore we’d never talk about it again. We swore we’d never tell anyone what really happened. And he broke that promise.
“Jason!” Mara’s voice filters past the rage, “Dylan, I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d be mad at you. I thought he’d be angry with me.”
I barely register her voice.
Dylan isn’t one to take a beating lying down. He never came face to face with our father’s fists like I did. But he learned to stand his ground in school and especially on the wrestling team. Which is exactly what instincts take over.
He rams his body into mine, using his limbs and leverage to bring me to the ground so we’re wrestling back and forth on the wood floors that creak beneath our combined weight. This isn’t like playful wrestling most brothers do. We’re damn near trying to kill each other.
I want him to hurt as bad as I do.
I vaguely hear Mara shouting for us to stop, calling both our names. The panic in her voice should shake me out of my trance but tunnel vision is taking over and all I can focus on is my brother’s betrayal.
Dylan lands a few well placed punches, but so do I. We’ll both be bruised up and sore in the morning if we make it out of this alive.
I manage to shove him off me with my feet planted against his hip bones.
He flies into the air and smacks into his dresser while I scramble to my feet, leaning into my right leg with my shoulders wide preparing for another attack.
I wind my arm back to give it more impact when Mara steps in between us.
I don’t register it quick enough to stop my arm from shooting my fist forward, too focused on the attack and not on the recipient.
Thank god Mara is quick as she ducks at the perfect moment so my strike doesn’t touch anything but open air. Dylan stands back looking rightfully aghast. Mara mirrors that expression when she rises to her full height again. Her eyes sear me with hurt, and fear.
She can’t fear me.
I wanted her to when she first came here, but not now. Now she can’t fear me because I need her.
But I can see in her shock that I royally fucked up. And I just pray I can fix it.
She darts past me before I can catch her but I sprint out of the room as soon as my brain starts working again. I catch her before she can even take the first step on the stairs and pull her back into me by the upper arm so our chests clash.
“Get off me, Jason,” she spits fire at me.
I should let her go, I should do the right thing, I should respect her wishes. It’s not like she can really go anywhere.
But I’m not that guy. I’m selfish and desperate and I need her to see that I didn’t mean to swing at her. I need her to know she’s safe.
“Fuck you,” she hisses. “You stubborn, closed minded juggernaut.” That’s a new one.
She slams the palm of her hand into my chest right over my heart. “How could you do that? How could you attack your only family? The only one who’s stuck by you. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
I drop her arm and shoot my eyes to the ceiling in frustration before looking back at her. I wish I could tell her how I feel. I wish I could argue with her and tell her my own brother betrayed my secret. But I can’t overcome my own roadblocks.
“I know you’re the only two alive who know what really happened, and now me.
I asked him what happened. Me. He didn’t want to tell me and I made him because I want to know you.
I want to understand you. But you don’t speak so you can’t tell me shit.
” She lifts her arms, palms facing up, then slams them down to her sides.
“You should be the one to tell me these things but you don’t.
You don’t even write. You don’t communicate with me. ”
I do, I want to tell her. So I draw closer to her again until she’s backed into the railing at the top of the stairs.
I do communicate with you. In my own way. Why can’t she understand that? Why isn’t it enough?
“Jason, we both know this is more than just fucking around with each other. It’s not casual.
You’ve seen my insecure sides. I’ve been vulnerable with you.
And I’ve gotten jack shit from you. You’re closed off and I don’t really know you.
Knowing you enjoy reading and like your eggs scrambled isn’t the same thing as knowing the man beneath the surface.
It’s not fair you get to see me at my weakest and I don’t get to know a damn thing about you. ”