“He doesn’t talk to his adopted parents?” Don’s shock was evident, but I shrugged it off.

“Jay isn’t the talking type.” I amended, “Well, I guess he’s the talking type; he just can’t listen for shit. I don’t think he tries to be a conceited little shit, but he certainly aces it.”

“Then why do you put up with it?”

“Why does anyone put up with anything? Because they feel obligated to? Because they’ve been taught and conditioned that they should, and it’s easier than trying to go against that programming? Because we love the people we put up with?” I kicked at a rock, watching it skitter across the road, “Truthfully, I think he just hates himself so much he has to make it look like he thinks he’s hot shit.”

“He’s being stupid, pushing limits the way he has. He’s apparently very well known for doing so here in PortCity.”

I shrugged, nodding, kicking more dirt and rocks, not wanting to look up and see the judgment that would be clear in Don’s eyes.

I knew my brother, I fucking raised him, and while I wasn’t blind to his faults, it still hurt to hear what other people thought of him. It felt like a reflection on me, on my parentage, even when I knew I wasn’t the one responsible for his trauma. I still felt like I didn’t do enough to help it.

“My mother used to say some people are born to die. You can eat, sleep, fuck, repeat all you want, but you’re only delaying the inevitable, and I think that’s probably about right. The best most people can hope for is biding our time in whatever mediocre fashion suits us.”

Don’s green eyes swirled with something I didn’t want to analyze too deeply. He looked down at me, seemingly reading farther than I wanted to deal with. His concern radiated through the dark whorls of color, stopping us in our trek.

I shook my head, pulling him along with me as we reached the edge of the house. The bright cream stucco loomed over us, but Don pulled me to a stop before I could get further than the courtyard facing the front doors.

“Don-”

“Is that how you feel?”

“Which part?”

I did not want to have this conversation, but I really didn’t want to start it outside in the cold while we waited for Valentina who might arrive at any moment.

“That life isn’t worth living.”

“I didn’t say that-”

“But you did.”

“I think that if someone doesn’t want to be alive, we shouldn’t keep them, no matter how fucked up that sounds. But I keep doing it. I keep dragging people back from that ledge, and I’m tired of trying to make people want to stick around,” I lifted my hands from his, backing up towards the house. “Look at this. You have so much; you have things to live for, and I know it sounds shallow and materialistic, but it helps. Some of us don’t even have that, and I get it. So no, I don’t want to die, if that’s what you’re asking, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to live for.”

“Yourself, Alex. You’re the only person you need to live for. Everything else comes second.”

“I don’t even know who I am half the time. My entire identity has been built up to be something to someone else at all times. I’ve always been Jaymes's keeper, and every day I feel him getting closer to that brink. I just think there’s going to come a day when Jay is going to be done sticking around, and I have to prepare myself for the hurt that’s going to come with that.” I laughed, but the sound wasn’t happy or even snarky. It grated on the edge of insanity, “So yeah, maybe that’s a morbid way to look at it, but I just–I’m just tired, and without him, I don’t know who I am or have something that I’m living for.”

He caught up to me, hands clasping my face, dragging me so close to him that I couldn’t see anything else but an ocean of green. “But do you want to live, little Lexi? Or do I have to find something to keep you here.”

I let out a shuddering breath, tears sliding down his fingers. I clutched his hands afraid if I let go, I would fall apart. He didn’t flinch, even as my nails dug in, piercing his flesh.

“The idea of living scares me,” I cried, “When I’ve spent so much time just trying to survive. That’s why I put up with it, Don, with him. Because I don’t know how to live for myself and the thought of trying to is fucking terrifying.”

“Do you trust me?”

His words rang through my head, playing on a loop, begging me to say yes.

Did I trust the man whose loyalty lay with the woman who would kill my brother in a heartbeat? Did I trust him to keep me safe? Yes. Did I trust him here, to hold me and be the solid ground missing beneath me? Probably.

He was doing a damn good job of it at the moment. But did I trust him to stick by me when I was crying on his bathroom floor at 3 AM because my brother had gotten himself in trouble again?

“I don’t know.”

“One day, I hope you will, and until that day, I’m going to spend every moment we have together convincing you of it.”

Tags: Ashley Michele Paranormal
Source: readsnovelonline.net