Chapter 22
22
Brax
Jack:
You want to explain the letter I got from Mom?
Brax:
Shit. I was going to tell you.
Jack:
Is this a joke? Because I’m not laughing.
Brax:
Listen, I know you’re mad. Give me a chance to explain.
Jack:
You don’t have a fucking clue what I am. But you’ re about to find out.
Well, fuck.
That was ominous.
I stared at Jack’s last text. Where was he right now? Somewhere in eastern Europe, I was pretty sure. That was a long way from Aspen Springs, Colorado. And not even Jack could kick my ass from five thousand miles away.
I was pretty sure, anyway.
But that was a worry for another day, because today was Wednesday, and I had more important things to do. Like stare at his sister’s ass as she bopped and shimmied to the music in her headphones while she folded laundry.
I had taken to working from home on Wednesdays, setting up my makeshift office at the kitchen table, where I had a good view of most of the house, with the exception of the bedrooms. Essie tended to sleep in until eight or nine, when she emerged from her bedroom in my sweatpants and college tee shirt, which she had apparently commandeered as her own, despite her promise to return them.
I wasn’t mad about it.
But I scowled at her as if I were.
Generally, that led to her taking them off, which led to my clothes coming off, too .
We had sex a lot on Wednesdays, maybe because we didn’t get to see much of each other the rest of the week. Sometimes I saw her eyes narrow in on the tattoo on my heart, and her lips would flatten in a frown. But she didn’t ask me about it again. And she still slept in the guestroom.
We had been married for a month now, and in some ways, we were getting to know each other all over again. Sometimes I caught her watching me with a befuddled expression, like she was wondering how we got here from where we were.
I was more interested in figuring out where we were going.
The doorbell rang.
I glanced up at Essie, who was holding a sweatshirt under her chin, her lips moving to words I couldn’t hear. Then I closed my laptop—I doubted Essie would go snooping, but I took my clients’ privacy seriously—and got up to see who was at the door.
A package delivery, probably, though I wasn’t expecting anything.
But I didn’t get a chance to see, because the second I opened the door, something hit me right in the gut, knocking the wind clean out of me. I doubled over, my hands on my knees, as the corners of my vision went black.
“Take a slow breath, not too deep,” a voice rumbled from far away .
And shit, I knew that voice.
My gaze locked on the black army boots on my front porch. I followed those up to the fatigues and then, finally, to his face.
“Jack,” I heaved. “You asshole.”
He thumped my shoulder. “You’re fine. Walk it off.”
I was about to tell him what he could do with that advice when I was interrupted by an ear-splitting shriek, followed by the slap of bare feet on wooden floors, and a flurry of color as Essie raced by me and hurled herself into her brother’s arms.
“Jack!” she shrieked. “You’re home!”
He twirled her around, making her laugh, before setting her down again. “I had some vacation days to burn. Mom said you went and got yourself married to this jackass.” He jerked a thumb in my direction. “Is that true?”
Essie looked at me and blinked slowly, apparently noticing for the first time that I was not looking my best. She turned back to her brother with a frown. “What did you do, Jack?”
Jack looked beyond her to meet my gaze head on. “Nothing he shouldn’t have seen coming.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“Jack!” Essie slapped his bicep, then slapped his other arm for good measure. “Don’t hurt my husband.”
My husband .
I straightened up so fast I nearly went light-headed again.
She had never called me that, not once in our four weeks of marriage. She had never called me anything ever except Brax or prig, or Braxton if I was really getting under her skin. It might piss Essie off to know that I was actually quite fond of her little nickname for me. But this…this might be my favorite.
My husband .
I grinned at Jack and his eyes narrowed.
“Why don’t you go back inside, Essie, and give Brax and me a chance to catch up?” he suggested, his eyes never leaving my face.
Essie folded her arms under her chest. “Seeing as this isn’t 1950, no. I don’t think I will.”
They looked at each other in that way twins had. Essie and Jack had always been able to have entire conversations without saying a single word out loud. I had the feeling if this was an argument, Jack was about to lose.
Sure enough, ten seconds later, he shook his head. “Fine. We’ll all go inside.”
But when Essie stomped by me, I caught her by the elbow. “You mind if I have a word with your brother first? I owe him a conversation.”
Her head tilted as she considered. “Fine. I’ll allow it. But don’t be dumb, Brax.” Then she tossed a smirk over her shoulder. “Nothing below the belt, Jack. I’m particularly fond of that area.” With a wink at me, she sashayed into the house.
I swallowed a chuckle at Jack’s stricken expression.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “She’s fucking with me.”
“Of course she is,” I agreed. We both lowered ourselves to the top step and sat down shoulder to shoulder. “She wanted to piss you off and she knew exactly how to do that. But…” I hesitated. There was no polite way to say I’m railing your sister every chance I get, and she fucking loves it.
Jack whipped to face me. “Mom said it was because of a horse. You two got hitched so Essie could ride some horse you own in a competition?”
I nodded slowly. “That’s right.”
“Why didn’t you just sell her the horse? Or make her a part owner?” he asked.
“That’s a good question.” I rubbed my chest.
“Is it one you have an answer to?”
“No,” I said after a long pause, during which I studied the paint peeling off the porch rail like there would be a test on it tomorrow. “I can’t say that I do.” Not one he would like hearing, at any rate.
Jack grunted at that.
“Essie wanted this,” I said. “No one made the choice for her.”
He squinted into the distance. “She wanted to marry you, or she wanted to ride? ”
I didn’t have a good answer to that, either.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He got to his feet, unfolding his body slowly. It looked lazy, the way he moved. I wasn’t fooled. “You made me a promise.”
I pushed to stand, too. “We were seventeen. Things were different then. You had a reason, and we both knew it was right. That reason doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Some things don’t change, Brax. I reckon your feelings for Essie are one of them.”
He wasn’t looking at me when he said this, but once again, I wasn’t fooled. Back then, when we were kids, it was easy to think he wasn’t paying attention simply because it never seemed like he was. Now I knew better. Jack Price saw everything. It wasn’t that he never showed his hand. It was that he never showed he had a hand to begin with. All the time I thought we were playing dice, he was playing poker.
And winning.
I leaned against the porch rail, mirroring his position. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” I said. “As Essie pointed out not ten minutes ago, this isn’t 1950. She can file for divorce any time she wants. I won’t stop her.”
But shit.
I didn’t say that out loud, but my face must have said it for me.
He laughed and shook his head. “You poor dumb fuck. You know you can’t keep this from her. ”
“I’m telling you, it doesn’t matter,” I bit out. “She’s an adult. She can make her own choices regardless of how I feel about it.”
“Then why haven’t you told her yet?” he challenged.
It would be real great if he’d stop asking questions he knew I didn’t want to answer.
“Chickenshit. About emotions, of all things. Jesus Christ, man.” Jack made a disgusted sound. “I didn’t come cross an ocean to punch you in the stomach because you married her. I punched you because you didn’t tell her why. When I read Mom’s letter, I knew you hadn’t told her. Because Mom said it was because of a horse.” He snorted. “It was never about the fucking horse. I know that and you know that. The only person who doesn’t know that is Essie.”
I grunted, which was as much an admission as I would ever give him.
“You have to tell her, Brax,” Jack said quietly. “It’s the only way she’ll stay.”
“I know,” I said, but that wasn’t true at all.
Telling her was the fastest way to make her leave.
Fifteen Years Ago
“I love the smell of petrichor in the morning,” Essie said.
She lifted her face to the sky and sniffed the air like a hound dog catching the scent of prey, then flashed me a grin. Proud of herself for using one of her favorite words in combination with a quote from Apocolypse Now , the movie we had watched with Jack last weekend. Essie’s taste in movies usually trended toward action flicks or romantic comedies, but lately she had been choosing old war movies in a not-so-subtle bid to keep Jack from enlisting in the military when we graduated.
“It’s not going to work,” I said. I glanced at her through the windshield to gauge her reaction as I leaned into the truck and emptied my backpack of everything but my lunch and water bottle. I lifted the bottle, testing its weight. Full enough to share, I figured. We weren’t going far.
“It could work,” she argued, immediately connecting the dots of our conversation. We knew each other too well.
I shook my head, slammed the door shut—not because I was mad, but because the old hinge needed convincing—and locked the truck. There was no point in arguing. Essie would do what Essie did. And so would Jack.
“You ready?” I asked, looking over her jeans, tee shirt, and sneakers.
The sneakers gave me pause. We had chosen an easy out-and-back trail that totaled three miles. Minimal elevation gain but excellent payoff. Still, her shoes weren’t known for being grippy and it had rained the night before, leaving everything slick.
“Stop worrying,” she said, giving my shoulder a push to get me moving in the direction of the trailhead. “We’ll be fine. I’ve hiked in these before.”
“You’ve walked, you mean.”
She rolled her eyes and gave me another encouraging shove. “That’s what hiking is, silly.”
“All right, let’s go,” I said. Essie was a competent hiker and she wasn’t reckless. She might seem wild and rash to other people, but I knew her better. She took risks, sure, but only with careful thought.
Still, I slowed my pace once we passed the trailhead marker, letting her take the lead and set the pace. It was only polite, since my longer legs gave me an advantage, plus it meant I could keep my eyes on her.
I breathed an unwarranted sigh of relief when we reached the viewpoint. Essie had been right. She was fine. The trail was wet and sometimes slick, but it wasn’t hard to safely navigate. And this was our reward. It wasn’t the top of a mountain, but the view was nearly as good. The Rocky Mountain range stretched around the outcropping where we stood, pines and aspens giving way to gray peaks, some still patchy with snow.
Essie’s cheeks were pink from exertion, her eyes brighter than the sky, her chest rising and falling deeply. Looking at her made me dizzy in a way the height could never do, stole the air right from my lungs. I had to look away to steady myself.
She spread her arms wide and tilted her face to the sky, letting the wind whip her hair into a frenzy behind her. Her tee shirt tightened around her torso. It felt like torture, but I didn’t think it was on purpose. Sometimes, moments like this, where I saw a little too much of her, I suspected it was on purpose. Like she was testing me to see if she could make me react like every other boy who couldn’t resist her. But right now, I figured she just wanted to feel free. Essie loved the wind.
I took the lead on our way back down. Most of the trail was gently sloped, but there were a few steeper spots. She’d be more likely to fall forward if she slipped going down, and I’d be right there to break her fall.
“You know what, we should skip school tomorrow, too,” Essie said behind me. “Say we have food poisoning, and that’s why we had to leave school so suddenly today. No one will believe we were only sick for an afternoon.”
I turned to face her. “Essie, we are not skipping school tomorrow. We have two weeks left of school. Suck it up, buttercup.”
She grimaced. I laughed and took a step backwards.
And the earth crumbled beneath my foot. My other leg buckled and I flailed for something, anything, to hold onto. There was nothing. I was going over the edge and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it .
And then suddenly Essie’s face was all I could see, so close it blocked out the sky and the trees. Her blue eyes on mine with all the determination and focus she normally reserved for running barrels. It all happened so fucking fast.
The feeling of falling.
Her face.
My teeth clanking together as my body was forcefully wrenched from one place to another.
A scream.
I was back on solid ground, but Essie was no longer beside me.
“Essie!” I roared her name over the edge, my heart in my stomach. Her body lay flat against the incline, face down, maybe ten feet below where I stood on the edge.
“I’m alive.” She lifted her head and slowly moved her hand to push the hair from her face.
I inhaled a shallow breath of air, suddenly aware that my lungs were burning from lack of oxygen. “Jesus fucking Christ, Essie. Don’t move. I’ll get you.”
“No, it’s not safe. Stay up there. The ground here feels pretty unstable. It’s all scree. If you try to climb down, you’re going to slide and all those rocks are going to come right at me. Just give me a second. My foot’s wedged in these boulders.”
Her prone body wiggled as she carefully pried herself free of the boulders. I nearly died a hundred times over watching her, helpless to do anything, terrified that if I tried, I might send her falling another thousand feet.
“There, I’ve got it,” she called. “Okay, I’m coming up now.”
I straight up panicked. “No! Stay there. I’ll go for help.”
“That could take hours. I’m not going to wait here alone for hours. I can do it.”
Fuck. I roughed a hand over my head, tugging at the strands, full of nervous energy I had no release for. “Don’t stand up. Crawl, okay?” I struggled to keep my voice calm. The last thing Essie needed was to worry about me falling apart. “Go slow, grab onto anything that looks safe.”
She didn’t answer, but she stayed on her hands and knees. Her progress was painstakingly slow as she paused between every movement, sometimes sliding back an inch or two on the loose gravel.
“Your phone better be in your pocket when I get up there,” she said.
I blinked. “My phone? Are you hurt? I don’t have signal out here to call for a rescue. But I’ll carry you down if it comes to that.”
“My ankle is a little sore, but no, I mean you better not be recording this. I don’t need embarrassing video of me crawling up a mountain, covered in dust and mud, for you to show my future husband or whatever. ”
I stared down at her. “Are you fucking kidding, Essie? This is not the time for jokes.”
“Oh, really? When would be a better time, then? After I’m dead?”
“Essie, I swear to fucking god, when you get up here, I’m going to?—”
“You’re going to what?”
I didn’t answer. She was within reach now. I grabbed her by the elbows and hauled her the rest of the way over the ledge. She stumbled into me, her breath erratic. I wrapped my arms around her waist and backed us away from the edge.
She burrowed into me, her body vibrating. We stood there, clinging to each other, her head resting on my chest, tucked under my chin. Her lips pressed against my shirt in a damp kiss, like she was trying to reassure herself with my heartbeat. I breathed in her scent, the vanilla underneath the dirt and sweat. It felt like the first full breath I had taken since she went over the edge.
“You’re going to what?” she whispered.
My mind went blank. “Hm?”
“You said, Essie, I swear to fucking god ,” she mimicked, her voice dropping to a deep husk, “ when you get up here, I’m going to —what? What are you going to do?”
Never let you go .
My arms tightened around her.
I loved her. Fucking hell, I loved her .
“Don’t you dare try to spank me,” she said. “I’m warning you, I bite.”
She laughed shakily. Her body still shivered against mine. She was telling jokes, but she wasn’t fine at all.
“It’s okay.” My voice was hoarse. “You’re okay.”
She jerked her head back to look me in the eyes. “You almost died.” The words were an accusation, her expression fierce.
I remembered the look in her eyes as she grabbed my shirt with all the strength she had in her body. She had saved my life without any consideration that it might cost hers. She’d do it again in a heartbeat. I knew that. Whatever Essie did, she did with her whole heart. That was how she lived. That was how she loved.
Fuck.
I loved her.
And the worst part was, she loved me, too.