And then there was him. Jude, the fuck up.
“I hate myself,” he told them, all heat gone from his voice. After the confession left his lips, he thought he should feel lighter. Relieved or some shit that it was all out in the open now. He didn’t. He wasn’t. Exhaustion dragged him down, but he kept talking anyway. “I’ve always hated myself, but I have to grin and bear it because that’s my punishment.”
Greer planted his hands on the desktop and leaned in. “I think you need to open that big yap of yours and start talking. Really talking. No more bullshit. What do you mean, punishment?” Despite his harsh tone, worry shone in his eyes, which only made Jude’s throat tighten up more.
“You look like Dad.”
Greer straightened like he’d been poked in the ass with a Bowie knife. “What did you say?”
“I see it more every day. Sometimes it hurts to look at you and know…”
Greer’s mouth worked soundlessly as he struggled to find something to say. Cam nudged him aside and sat on the edge of the desk. “Hey, man, we all miss them.”
Jude nodded. True enough. His brothers had all had a little more time to make good memories with their parents. On the other hand, he’d been so young, not even a teenager yet. Out of the few memories he could recall, the worst was the one that stood out the most, a streak of blood red across what would otherwise have been a flawless childhood. “But none of you killed them.”
“What the fuck?” Vaughn said. “You were just a kid. You didn’t kill them.”
“Yeah, I did.” Jude looked over at Reece, expecting confirmation, and instead seeing a face not quite like Dad’s that had gone ghost white. The memory of that night played out in his older brother’s expression: thirteen-year-old Reece pulling him out of bed, cursing at him, trying to figure out how to alert their parents that the crisis had passed. The police knocking on the door hours later. Child services coming to take them all away to different homes and Reece turning on him with hatred in his eyes…
It’s all your fault. They’re dead because of you!
Greer frowned at the two of them. “Jude, listen to me. What happened to Mom and Dad wasn’t your fault, and whatever happened between the two of you”—he wagged a finger in the air between him and Reece—“you need to take care of it. Now. It’s long overdue.” He turned, motioned a c’mon gesture to Cam and Vaughn. “Twins, let’s give them some space.”
The door shut behind them, and silence descended like a torrential rain, cold and heavy. Reece still hadn’t moved. Hadn’t even blinked. His body was present, but his mind wasn’t. Jude suspected he was still twenty years away, reliving the worst night of their lives, and stayed silent. He didn’t expect much to come from this little heart-to-heart—the pain ran too deep, the wound had festered too long. He couldn’t see how a simple conversation would change that.
Reece finally stirred. He shut his eyes and released a shaky breath. When he finally lifted his lids, moisture spiked his lashes.
“All this time, you thought…?” His voice came out thick, raw. With a shaking hand, he loosened his tie and fumbled with the buttons of his collar, but gave up after his hand proved too unsteady. He paced away, circled the twins’ desks, and came back. “Fuck. I didn’t mean anything I said that day.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
“Let’s just forget it.”
“Jude, I was angry, grieving—” He swallowed hard and dragged his hands over his short, dark hair. “But so were you and that’s not an excuse. I should have protected you, taken care of you. You were only a child. Instead, I accused you. I should have realized you’d take it to heart. I…ruined you.”
A lump the size of an aircraft carrier lodged in Jude’s throat, but he forced a smile. “I wouldn’t say ruined.”
“You’re so full of shit. You think you don’t deserve a woman like Libby Pruitt when you’re obviously head over heels for her. You think you don’t deserve to be happy—all because of something I said out of grief twenty years ago. How is that not ruined?”
He didn’t have an answer to that and just shook his head. Denial was his good friend, and he slipped into its embrace easily. “Let’s pretend this conversation never happened.”
“Fuck that. You do deserve happiness. Mom and Dad would want you to be happy. I want you to be happy, and if this Libby woman does it for you, then I say go for it.”
Christ, he wanted to, but even if Reece was right, even if he did deserve happiness—which he still doubted—there were too many other obstacles in the way. Namely, Colonel Elliot Pruitt. “Her father warned me away from her. Again.”
“So?”
Jude smiled, but this time it came easily. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like me.”