Chapter Three
Every day, things got a little easier. Unfortunately, Jay had come to terms with the reality of never being the same.
It was almost funny how—at first—he hadn’t even considered the possibility he wouldn’t heal to a hundred percent.
He felt a little foolish for thinking that, with enough time, he would be back on his feet and ready to take on the world.
It wasn’t happening. Jay didn’t know if he was more angry or sad about the way life had turned out.
Some days, he felt both emotions pretty equally.
However, Jay had regained the ability to shower alone, even though he had to do it sitting down.
Crisp had abandoned him for some family gathering.
He had asked Jay to wait until he got back to bathe in case he fell, but Jay couldn’t take it.
He had gone too long without taking care of himself.
Jay would push through this chore. His hands and legs shook.
He would forever be grateful for the bench built into the wet room.
Otherwise, he would be fucked and making the walk of shame when Crisp returned.
He had really hoped to check out the entire apartment while Crisp was gone, but after his shower, his ass was kicked.
Jay tucked himself right back under the covers.
Sleep won immediately. He would try again later.
A scraping sound had Jay’s eyes shooting open.
Crisp moved around the room, straightening the mess Jay had made during his solo adventure.
“Sorry. I didn’t intend to leave that for you.”
Crisp nodded but kept his face turned away.
“I’m sure, since you couldn’t be bothered to do the one damn thing I asked and wait for me.
You’re lucky you didn’t fall and re-injure yourself.
” There was something in Crisp’s tone. Since he wouldn’t look at Jay, Jay couldn’t get a read on him.
Crisp disappeared into the bathroom with Jay’s discarded clothes and wet towel.
When he reappeared, Jay opened his mouth to explain he had hoped to be less of a burden to Crisp and give him a break.
The words died inside him at the first glimpse of Crisp’s face.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jay heard his hard tone, and the question sounded harsh rather than concerned.
A sardonic smile appeared on Crisp’s face. “Where would you like me to start? Maybe with my parents. I don’t have those. Would you like to talk about my brothers? I have none.”
It felt like a stone dropped in his gut. Crisp’s eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed—as if he had been crying. “Men don’t cry.” Why was that what he said? He had no clue. Jay was just out of his depth. He didn’t know what to say to comfort anyone, but he had obviously chosen poorly. Crisp snapped.
“You know, I get that for whatever fucking reason you see me saving you as some weird weakness. I know my being here for you obviously makes me girly or whatever fucking thing you’ve got going on in your head.
Oh, and let’s not forget that you don’t see me work out, so I must somehow be flabby while, somehow, simultaneously also being too small.
Never mind that I’ve changed my whole goddamn life and routine to be here for you.
Who cares that I only get four hours of sleep so I can fit in my workout and everything else I’m missing during the day because I’ve tried keeping you alive.
You know what? I don’t fucking care anymore.
You obviously don’t give a shit about yourself, since you try to kill yourself the first moment my back is turned.
You damn sure don’t care about me. Well, guess what else, buddy.
Join the fucking queue of people who I’m invisible to.
You’re not fucking special.” Crisp stormed from the room and slammed the door shut behind him.
He reopened it a half-second later. “Oh, and here.” He tossed a gallon-sized Ziploc bag at Jay. “Austen gave me this to give to you.”
He slammed the door closed again. A moment passed, and the sound of another door slamming reached his ears. It seemed Crisp had stormed all the way out.
Jay looked down at the bag in his lap. It was his things.
Jay had forgotten all about his wallet and whatnot.
He had assumed that everything that had been on his person before his torture session had been lost to him forever.
Jay opened the bag to go through everything while trying desperately not to think about Crisp’s words.
He flipped open his wallet. His driver’s license stared back at him.
Yeah, that was him. Jay M. Wrapter. Thirty-five, six-foot-two, with brown eyes.
No one. He checked the rest of the contents: money, debit card, a few fake business cards and a condom.
His watch and a receipt for gas were both covered in blood.
At the bottom was a silver chain with a small bird-shaped charm.
Jay pulled it out and put it on. It too had dried blood coating it.
That wasn’t something that bothered Jay.
His chest squeezed. Goddamn it. Crisp’s tirade was under his skin.
He thought back on every conversation they had.
There weren’t many beyond the everyday discussions.
Jay didn’t welcome deep conversation. So why did Crisp’s words cut so deep?
Jay didn’t like this feeling in his stomach.
He had intentionally listened to Crisp’s conversation with his friend.
It seemed the brothers had taken some DNA test to see if they were blood related.
Crisp had made it clear that test could harm the feelings he had toward his brothers.
Apparently, he had none. He didn’t understand why that mattered.
They were still the family they had chosen.
That was more than some people had. It was more than Jay had.
He flipped back the covers and pushed to his feet.
Everything shook in protest as he made his way to the living area of the bedroom.
Crisp was definitely gone. Jay’s eyes swept the room.
First, he needed to find a gun. He couldn’t protect Crisp with brute strength right now.
That reminded him of Crisp’s rant about not working out and being flabby.
He wasn’t worried about that part. That belief was ridiculous.
Crisp was smaller than him. It should fall to Jay to protect him.
There were no weapons in the obvious places.
He would have to settle for the next best thing.
Jay found a knife in the kitchenette area.
He would make do. A sheet of paper sat on the counter.
The sight of Crisp’s name caught his eye.
Jay skimmed the document. His heart sank.
It was the DNA results broken down to outline the findings.
Every single brother was related in some manner, except Tidy and Crisp. They belonged to no one.
Jay didn’t know why, but he felt worse by the minute.
Unpleasant emotions washed over him. Once again, he was wrong.
The results mattered. An overwhelming urge to break shit overcame him.
How dare these men claim Crisp as their brother only to take it back?
How could they vow to be family, only to pick and choose later?
The unfairness of the situation boiled his blood.
Jay touched the charm on his necklace and stared at nothing while seeing the past too clearly.
Crisp deserved better than these men. He certainly was owed more than Jay had given him.
Jay didn’t know how to change that. All he knew was he should change because he didn’t like the way he felt knowing Crisp was sad. That was part of protecting him.
Crisp sat in a lounge by the pool with his eyes closed.
He tried to distinguish between the different scents lingering around him.
A warm breeze ruffled his hair. Anytime his mind tried to drift toward anything other than the peace surrounding him, Crisp counted backward from one hundred.
This was his version of meditation. He wished he had his board and was out on the water.
Crisp craved the waves lapping at him, bringing the various smells of sea to life around him.
The salt. The nothingness. What would happen if he grabbed his board, enough gear to survive, and drove off to find his next adventure?
How long would it take before anyone even noticed he was gone?
Crisp sighed. Tidy would notice immediately, and he would care. He was incapable of holding on to peace. His mind was always too busy. It was cruel that he couldn’t escape himself. Maybe he should take up doing drugs. It wasn’t like he had anything else going on.
Fabrice appeared with two open bottles of wine. He handed one to Crisp. “It’s always better to sulk as a team.”
The lounge he used was meant for two. He made room for Fabrice.
They sat together in silence while occasionally taking swigs from their bottles.
Crisp couldn’t take it. The young chef who ran the kitchen of the Bosi Hawaiian compound was always too quiet.
Too willing to pretend he lived in the background with no identity.
“How are you holding up after that proposal?” Scout had proposed to a Bosi guard tonight.
Truthfully, Crisp had no idea how long they had been dating.
He didn’t pay a lot of attention to other people’s love lives, but he saw the way Fabrice looked at Clay sometimes when Clay wasn’t looking.
The expression he wore was too familiar to Crisp.
He was on the outside looking in, unable to find a voice to ask for a lifeline.
Crisp didn’t need to be asked. He wanted to hear Fabrice’s thoughts.
Fabrice shrugged and turned his bottle up. He swallowed before responding. “There’s nothing I can say right now where I come out looking good.”
Crisp nodded. He got that.
“How is your patient?”