Dearest Clementine (19 page)

I’ve decided that my brother is a certifiable asshole. I throw up my hands in frustration.

“What do you even know about me, Jackson? I
lost
my track scholarship, so I’ve had to work my ass off to pay for my tuition. My professor attacked me when I was a freshman. I’d say I’m doing pretty damn well considering.”

His blue eyes widen, and he stammers, “I… I didn’t know any of that.”

A gaping silence settles between us. I don’t bother bringing up how my freshman-year roommate freaked out on me because of my brother and his man-whoring ways.

“What do you mean your professor attacked you?” Jax looks pale, and his jaw is clenched.

I shake my head, my chest flooded with the dark buzz of panic. This is how an attack starts. I suck in a few deep breaths, forcing myself to focus on my brother’s scuffed shoe.

“Fucking hell, Clementine. Who is this asshole?”

My eyes shift up. The vein in Jax’s temple is the only movement in his tightly coiled body.

“Forget about it. There’s nothing you can do.” Or could do. Even if Jax had known back then, the end result would have been the same, right? “I’m fine now.” Not so much back then.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The pain in his voice cuts through me.

My heart sinks at the answer. Does he really want to hear this? Can I even say it? I lick my dry lips.

“You didn’t back me up with Daren.” The words are a whisper. “Why would you care about this?”

Jax winces, and I keep going. “Mom and Dad didn’t seem to care.” The laugh that escapes me is tinged with resentment. “You know, they don’t pay for my shit like they pay for yours,” I say, eying his perfectly cut leather jacket.

Sweat breaks out on my forehead. I wish he’d leave and take that damn box with him. 

My brother always thinks he has the answers. We used to be so close. Inseparable. But now, as I stare at a face I know as well as my own, I realize we haven’t known each other for a long time.

“Jax, if you think what happened with Daren is what broke me, you don’t know me at all.”

“Then what was it? What happened? Is it what went down with your professor?”

 I tilt my head, wondering how my twin can be so clueless. “The people I trusted most betrayed me. Mom and Dad… and you.”

His eyes narrow. “How? How did I betray you? Because Daren is my best friend?”

Jax wants to go there? Fine.

I take a step closer to him and look him eye to eye, my heart beating in my throat. I try to speak, but nothing comes out. Taking a breath, I try again.

“When did you find out that Daren was sleeping with Veronica?”

His eyes dart away as a mixture of emotions—anger, guilt, shame—cross his face. He swallows.

“Exactly. You knew, and you didn’t tell me.”
Dick
.

He closes his eyes. “I almost broke his jaw.”

My head snaps toward him. “What?”

“I almost broke Daren’s jaw when I found out.” His eyes are still closed.

Thinking back to that spring, I remember Daren getting injured at a training camp the week before I broke up with him.

“He said he got hurt in a scrimmage.”

His eyes slide up to meet mine. “Yeah. A scrimmage with my fist.”

The lump in my throat threatens to choke me. This whole time I thought Jax had known and done nothing.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

His jaw clenches and unclenches. “You’re my sister. Daren is like my brother. Deep down, I had this crazy idea that you two would end up together, and I was afraid to get in the middle. I’m not going to lie—I was going through my own shit back then, so I know I wasn’t the best brother. I didn’t notice when Daren started sneaking around with that cunt.”

I flinch at my brother’s choice of words, realizing for the first time that he hates Veronica, probably on my behalf.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath.

“When I first found out he was cheating on you, I didn’t want to believe it, but the rumors wouldn’t go away, so I confronted him. And when we were done with that
conversation
, he knew he needed to man up and sort out his shit and talk to you. Only you figured it out first.”

I blink back hot tears that threaten to spill over.

“Clem, you must have thought I’d gone on with my friendship with him like nothing happened, but it took a few years to get past it.” Jax shifts in the doorway and crosses his arms over his chest. “And I know he still feels like shit over what he did to you. That helps.”

We stand on opposite sides of the room, and I’m too overwhelmed to speak. His eyes fall on the moving box.

“Look,” he says softly, “I know Mom has been hard on you, but I think she misses you.”

I know he doesn’t believe that, but it’s the kind of lie we’ve always told ourselves.
Mom wanted to come to the game, but she had a meeting. Dad missed a flight home from Paris because he got stuck in traffic. They didn’t mean to forget our birthday.

But I’m no longer twelve and in desperate need of their approval, and hearing that bullshit now snaps something inside of me. “They sure have a fucked-up way of showing it. Nothing says I love you like ‘take your shit before we toss it on the street.’”

“You’re not being fair. You haven’t called them or gone to see them…” He’s saying the right words, but not even Jax can put any conviction behind it.

I should be sad that he talks about our parents as though our father didn’t disappear to another continent without a second thought, but I’m too pissed to go along with the charade.

“Are you serious right now?” I’ve avoided this conversation with him for three years, but now all of my carefully clamped-down emotion is at the surface, hot and bubbling like lava. “Did you ever wonder how I lost my state meet after I won all the others my senior year? How I barely eked out a fifth-place finish when my practice times could have beaten all those girls that day?”

Jax shrugs.

“Mom found out I had broken up with Daren that morning. I was walking out the door, and she told me it was my fault Daren cheated on me because I should have slept with him months ago. She said, ‘Why do you think I put you on the pill?’ Then she said she was late for a meeting and left.”

The emotion of this conversation catches up with me, and tears stream down my face.

“So did Daren break my heart? Yes. Did he hurt me by hooking up with my best friend? Yes. But you have no idea how humiliating it is to have the whole school know that your boyfriend is getting blow jobs in the weight room and your own brother knows and doesn’t tell you, or that your mother doesn’t care that her daughter is dating an asshole.”

I put on a sweatshirt and sniffle.

“Jax, I get that you didn’t know what to do, but you should have told me. If you had, maybe I wouldn’t have found them fucking in his bed.”

His eyes widen as more tears fall down my cheeks.

“They didn’t know I had walked in. Not that either would have cared.”

My body starts to move, and I have only a vague awareness of what I’m doing. The running shoes slip on, and my fingers tie the laces.

Jax clears his throat.

“Clementine, I’m so sorry. For everything, I—”

I get up and push past him into the living room where I come to a dead halt when I see everyone looking at me. Fuck. When my eyes meet Gavin’s, I look down. My heart thunders in my chest. God damn it.

“I’m going for another run,” I say as I walk out. When I reach the bottom of the stairwell, I’m vaguely aware that someone is calling my name, but it doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters
, I think as I head out onto the dark street.

* * *

The living room is quiet. I tiptoe into my room and find Harper asleep on my bed. The creak of my door wakes her, and she yawns before she registers what’s going on.

“Hey, you’re back. I saved you some pizza. Actually, Gavin did. He wants you to call him. He’d still be here, but he had a late shift tonight at the dorm.”

“I’m okay, Harper. You don’t need to babysit me.” I can barely kick off my running shoes much less eat a slice of pizza.

“I know I don’t, but I didn’t want you to come home to an empty room.” She starts to stretch and then frowns. “Clem, Jax is wrong. You have friends.”

The thought that the whole world heard the argument I had with my brother makes me nauseous.

“You guys heard everything?” Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they only heard snippets here and there.

She nods, looking apologetic. “Your door was open. It was hard to miss.”

I smile weakly. “What can I say? Jax and I bring out the best in each other.”

“I know you’re pissed at him, but he loves you. He wouldn’t have taken the time to pack up your stuff and bring it to you if he didn’t care. What he did to you in high school was totally shitty, and I get that, but he grew up in the same screwed-up family that you did. You can’t exactly expect flowers to bloom in the desert.”

I grin through my fatigue. “That was some nice metaphorical language there, Harps.”

As she gets up, I collapse on the bed, too tired to even shower, which is a cardinal sin in my book.

“Don’t you want to call Gavin?”

“Not really.” In fact, that’s the last thing I want to do.

“Can I offer my unsolicited opinion?”

I mumble into my pillow, “Will you stop talking if I say no?”

“Probably not.” She takes the silence as my acquiescence. I’m just too tired to speak. “Don’t shut Gavin out. You tend to cut people out of your life when you get scared or overwhelmed. I think you’re afraid of being judged. Give Gavin a little more credit.”

“Thanks, Doctor. How much do I owe you for our session?” I should be grateful she’s a psych major.

She swats me on the leg for being a smartass. “Clem, we love you.”

“I know. I love you too, nosey.”

She chuckles as she shuts my door.

-
16 -

Jax is an asshole. Daren is too.
Gavin isn’t. But he probably thinks I’m a dumbass after what he heard yesterday.

I want to wallow in self-pity all morning, but I have to drag myself to math at the ass-crack of dawn. I sit in class, taking notes, copying down formulas, but my head doesn’t process anything except that my mechanical pencil is running out of lead.

I can’t believe Jax thinks this is all about Daren.

Another formula. Scribble, scribble. The professor asks whether we understand the concept.
No
. I nod yes.

In between classes, I take Gavin’s call. He says he understands that I don’t want to talk about what happened last night, but I’m sure he doesn’t get it. How could he? He has a nice two-parent household and younger sister, and they probably all sit around at dinner time and say shit like “Pass the peas!” and “How was your day, dear?”

By the time I get off the phone, I’m not sure I want to see him on Friday. I don’t like being put out for display. Harper is right about how I shut out people, but I can’t help how I feel. Gavin heard things I’ve only told one or two people, and I’ve only known him, what, a month?

Considering it was only twenty-four hours ago when I was marveling at myself in Professor Marceaux’s class and thinking my life was so great, I’d say the recent events are about on par with the shit that goes down in my life. How I thought I could change my luck now is beyond wishful thinking. More along the lines of delusional.

After another class, I trudge through campus toward the student union, exhaustion saturating my limbs. Lunch, I need lunch. My hands are trembling, probably from low blood sugar, and my head is so foggy I barely notice that I’m standing next to Brigit as I wait in a long line to pay for my food.

"Clem, how are you?"

I nod politely while I suck down some juice so I don’t pass out.

She ignores my grunt and says, “That pacing guide you emailed me is great.” She looks surprised I actually sent it to her.
See, I’m not such a bitch.

“Glad I could help.” I offer a weak smile and pop a baby carrot into my mouth.

Her face lights up, and we end up talking about our schedules. She’s a sweet girl with big, soulful brown eyes that get even bigger when she’s excited about something.

“Jason says you’re published, that your book is really good,” she says as I reach for my wallet.

Wheeler complimented my writing? Not what I was expecting. It doesn’t escape me that she’s calling him by his first name. It starts that way. Casually. Him asking you to call him Jason, you thinking he’s just cool and down-to-earth.

“He’s being kind. I’m sure it’s horse shit.”

She giggles and smiles appreciatively. “I’d love to read it. What’s the title?”

Oh, hell.