I stand in my brother’s office doorway, watching him.
He’s different these days, beyond just being distracted. I think he’s softer. Can’t say that to him, though. That’d be the ultimate insult. But he is, softer and more aware. She’s thawing him.
“Hey,” I say.
He looks up, puts his pen down. “Hey.”
“Can we talk?” I ask, shifting into the room anyway.
He frowns: instant concern. “Yeah?”
He tracks me as I walk across the room, watches me as I sit. “Are you good?”
“Yeah,” I nod, watching him closely. “Are you?”
He sniffs, amused.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “What’s going on?”
I mirror him. “I have something to tell you.”
“Okay.” He nods, back to frowning now.
It’s been on my mind ever since she told me. It makes so much sense. It gives context for their entire relationship, it explains away why they are how they are, and perhaps most pressingly and worst of all: why they will always be what they are.
I didn’t plan on telling him, honestly. I don’t like telling other people’s secrets — I think Magnolia and I are friends now1 — it’s just, it’s Julian.
I’d throw anyone2 under the bus for him.
“In high school, Magnolia and BJ had a baby.”
He stares over at me, brows low, blinks once.
“It died,” I clarify.
Then he runs his tongue over his front teeth. “I know.”
“You know?” I blink, pulling my head back.
He nods. “Yeah, I know — how do you know?” He frowns. “Christian tell you?”
“No—” I scowl defensively at the accusation that my boyfriend might be bad at secrets. “She told me.”
That surprises him. “She told you?”
I nod, proudly. “I mean, she asked me not to tell you, but—”
He rolls his eyes.
“How do you know?” I wave my hand at him.
“I know everything about her.” He shrugs.3 “I know she was pregnant when she was sixteen, I know it was his. I know the baby died, I know it was a girl. I know she was in a car accident when she was at school because her dad’s friend was driving and he was drunk. I know she was an inpatient and an outpatient at Bloxham House for an eating disorder on and off from fifteen to seventeen— I know it it all, Dais—”4 He glares over at me a bit. “Doesn’t change shit.”
“Because you love her.”
His jaw juts out, pushes the tip of his tongue into his top lip. Says nothing.
“I’m sorry—” I tell him and I mean it.5
“Don’t be—” He shakes his head. “I got to fall in love with her for a minute. Tick that off the bucket list—”
I roll my eyes at him.
“You know we can’t be together.” He gives me a look.
“But why not?” I shake my head. “She likes you, I know she does — I can tell in how she looks at you, how she is around you—”
“I know.” He nods quickly. “I think I know, anyway. But even if she does, she loves him more—” He gives me a little shrug. “It’s better that way.”
“Is it?” I frown.
“Course it is—” He rolls his eyes, like I’m an idiot.
“I think you could be quite happy together.”
I regret saying that as soon as I say it, even though I believe it, even though I’m convinced it’s true, it hurts him to hear it. I see it happen on his face, how it pulls, almost like a wince.
“Yeah—” He stares at his hands and sighs, then he looks back over at me. “But would she be safe?”
“I’m sorry, Jules—” I reach over and squeeze his hand. “You deserve to be loved.”
“No, I don’t, Dais — I’m a gang lord.” His mouth shrugs as he shakes his head. “This dies with me, remember?”
I give him a quick, sad smile. “Or me.”
“Nah.” He gives me a tired smile. “You’re going to live forever.”
1 But for fuck’s sake, don’t tell her I said that.
2 Everyone.
3 “Bit weird—” I eyeball him and he ignores me.
4 He hired an investigator, he’d tell me later. Got a little dossier on her. “You think I don’t know who I’m getting into bed with? Come on.”
5 This would be his nightmare.
