Broken and Screwed (BS #1)

My heart was pounding. I couldn’t get enough air.

His top lip curved upwards in a smile, but he still kept the sneer on his face. I never knew how he could do that, but he had perfected it from when we were in junior high. “What? You got those virginal panties on now?” His eyes flashed a warning to me. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

I swung away. Why could he affect me so much?

“Hey!” He raised his voice a notch. “It’s the big night for us, Alex. Come on. Who else would I be with tonight? Only you and me. We’re the only ones.”

I lowered my head. He was right. My heart slowed a bit. No one else could understand. No one else had loved Ethan like we had.

But that didn’t mean I wanted to think about my big brother at that moment. So I swung back and rushed out, “I saw Sarah at the bonfire. She looks pretty.” I wet my lips. When had they gone so dry? “Do you think you’ll ever get back together with her? I think she still loves you.”

He stared at me for a moment and then snorted. When he raised his hand, I saw the flask for the first time. He was drunk. Of course, he was drunk. I blinked back rapid tears. He only talked to me when he was drunk, but no—that wasn’t correct. There were lots of times when he had been drunk and he ignored my calls, my looks, or my pleas for any comfort he could’ve provided.

“Are you serious?” He rolled his eyes and for some reason, it seemed savage when it came from him. He fixed me with another penetrating stare. “Come on, Alex. What are we doing here?”

“You’re on my car.”

He snorted again and raised the flask once more. “It’s Ethan’s car.”

“He gave it to me.”

I tensed, ready for a sharp rebuke, but it never came. Silence. My eyes snapped to his and I was surprised to see that he wasn’t looking at me. He had turned away. I could see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. The image of it took my breath away. He was beautiful in that moment. The moon was behind him, casting its shadow over him and when he looked back, he draped both his arms on his knees. His head hung down.

His shoulders drooped as he took a breath. Hearing the shuddering inhale from him, I clasped my eyes closed.

I heard the pain in him. My own matched his and I wanted to go to him. But that was how it happened the last time. Nothing good came out of that except more suffering.

I felt my wall crumble and whispered, “I’m tired of hurting, Jesse.”

He looked back up. The cockiness was gone. The anger still burned in his eyes, but he had stuffed it down. I knew it was there, though. But it didn’t keep me away. His torment was on the surface and he let me see that.

Tears burst from my dam. I couldn’t stop them.

“It’s the exact time that it happened, you know. Right now. It’s 11:05. June 2.”

The pain suffocated me, but I couldn’t turn away. I nodded with my throat full. “I know.”

Jesse sighed again and stretched his legs down. He slid off the trunk and leaned against it. The moonlight flashed over his flask as he raised it again. As I heard it empty, he tossed it aside and crossed his arms over his chest. Even though Jesse was lean, his biceps bulged from the movement. He had always worked out, but since Ethan died he had doubled his time there.

“My god. I f**king loved that guy.”

A hand reached inside and squeezed my heart. More tears streamed from my eyes. I was helpless to stop them, but I choked out, “I know.”

“Drive me home?”

My eyes closed again and I wrapped my arms around myself. There it was. That was the request I knew was coming. My heart thundered while I tried to think clearly. And then I said, “Yes.”

The corners of his lips curved up, just slightly.

We didn’t speak after that. We didn’t need to. I went to the driver’s side. He went to the passenger side and neither of us said a word as I drove past his black Ferrari or even when we pulled up to the mansion his father had built when Jesse’s mother had been dying. As we walked through the hallways, up the stairs, and to his back bedroom my heart was calm. I was calm. And that made me not calm.

I shouldn’t have been calm.

Jesse went to his bar and poured vodka into a glass. He slid it across the counter to me. I picked it up and waited until he poured one for himself.

It was the third time we’d done this. Ethan’s funeral. Ethan’s birthday. And now the anniversary of the day Ethan’s car wrapped itself around a tree. He died a year ago and nothing was the same.

CHAPTER TWO