Come to Me Softly (Closer to You #2)(4)
Author: A.L. Jackson

And I just sat there. Waiting. Giving him time to let out whatever was roiling inside him.

When he finally spoke, his voice was tight, laced with disgusted amusement. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the infamous Jared Holt. Figured I’d be seeing your sorry ass this morning. Saw that piece of shit bike sitting in that spot downstairs when I got home last night. Then I come inside and, lo and behold, my little sister’s door is all locked up tight.”

A hot breath pushed from my lungs, and I tipped my head up to witness the disdain pouring from him when he turned around to meet my face. He crossed his arms over his chest and backed up against the counter. “How ya been, man?” It was all sarcasm and sneer. “Wait . . . let me tell you what it’s been like around here first.”

“Christoph—”

“Why don’t you shut your mouth and listen to what I have to say? Or do you feel compelled to feed me some more bullshit first?”

I sat back, staring up at the venom pouring from his gaze, welcoming it because I knew I had this coming. I mean, shit, I had no defense. I knew what I’d done.

“So how did it feel last night? Climbing right back into my little sister’s bed?”

My jaw clenched at the accusation, and my lips pursed into a thin line to keep from lashing out. Dude knew how to hit me where it hurt. I jerked my head with one harsh shake, nausea winding through my being while he stared down at me like I was some kind of bastard traitor. And maybe I was, but I hated the way he saw it, thinking I was taking advantage of Aly. As if she wasn’t the most important person in this world. To him, I’d just been f**king his little sister.

“Come on, man,” I muttered low. I rushed a shaky hand through my hair and cut my eye to the wall before I found the courage to look back at him. “It was never like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” The accusation dripped from his twisted mouth.

“No.” The word grated from my throat with the sound of remorse, and my knee was f**king bouncing because I didn’t know how to handle it. That old warning flare was blaring, telling me to grab my stuff and go. I strangled it, silencing that shit because nothing could tear me away from Aly.

Averting his gaze to the floor, he grasped the counter, contemplating something before he angled his chin up. “Did she tell you?”

My nod was slow, filled with understanding of what he was asking. “Yeah.” Shame hung my head, and I felt a new kind of guilt wash over me. God, I wished I’d been here for all of it. Wished I’d been the first one to hear Aly’s news. Wished she hadn’t had to rely on him.

Thank God she had him, though.

Christopher edged forward. Every step was calculated contention, anger, and hate. He worked his fists as he advanced on me. My chin lifted further with each step he took until he was right up in my face. “You think you can just come back here and act like nothing ever happened? Like everything is the same? Well, guess what, ass**le. Nothing is the same.”

Aggression spiked, heated in my stomach. A tremor of that same f**king insanity that had tormented me for years rolled through my body. My own fists flexed, and I struggled under the weight of it. He was breathing his bitterness all over me, and it took about all I had not to shove it back in his face.

He laughed, smug, and his voice dropped lower. “Does me getting in your face piss you off, Jared? You want to hit me again? Watch me bleed? Lose control? Will that make you feel better?”

He was baiting me. I knew it. Maybe that pissed me off the most. My jaw clenched and I squirmed under the anger blazing from green eyes that were so much like Aly’s.

Something that sounded like fear wove into his words. “What happens when it’s Aly who pisses you off? Are you going to beat her, too? How about when that baby gets in your line of fire?”

Every nerve in my body fired—pressed and pulsed with a crushing pain.

“Never.” I blinked hard. My hands fisted in my hair and I choked over the words. “Fuck, Christopher, I would never hurt them.”

He took a single step back, still glaring down at me like the piece of shit I was. “Yeah, and you’re supposed to be my best friend, too, and you didn’t seem to mind letting it out on me.” Conflict reigned in his gaze, questions and worry and blatant hurt.

Guilt knotted in my throat, and I found myself trying to explain what had sent me over the edge that night. “I know you didn’t mean to, but you hurt her and I just . . . I lost it, man. The thought of anyone hurting her makes me crazy.”

Understanding flashed like a bolt across his face before his eyes darkened. The anger from seconds before was replaced with disappointment. “Yeah, well, guess what, Jared. You hurt her, too. You want to know what it was like while you were gone? Her not knowing where you were, or if you were coming back? The pain she’s been going through? And guess who was here taking care of her while she puked her guts out for three straight months. Guess who held her while she cried and wondered how in the hell she was going to make it. Me, Jared. And now I’m not going to stand aside and let you ruin her. Not after everything you’ve already put her through.”

I ruin everything I touch.

The thought slammed me like a kick to the gut. Air wheezed down my throat as I struggled to pull it into the well of my lungs. That was something I was going to have to come to terms with—the fact that I didn’t have the first clue what Aly had suffered while I was away. I only knew my own pain, the f**king misery I’d endured day after day—all those days praying she’d somehow find a way without me, not knowing I’d walked away and left her with the greatest reminder of me I could have. Marking her. Scoring my body into hers.

Even if I hadn’t left her with our baby inside her, I’d been a fool to believe she could ever forget about me. As if I didn’t feel the honesty in her touch and hadn’t witnessed the truth in her eyes.

Aly loved me.

I shot to standing.

Caught off guard, Christopher stumbled back. I began to pace. I turned back to him, hoping he could feel the truth in my own confession.

“I love her, okay? I’m f**ked-up. I’m the first to admit it. But it doesn’t change what I feel about her.” The words bled from my mouth. That girl, the one lying in her bed down the hall, she was it.

My truth.

“You can hate me, Christopher, blame me . . . because it’s my fault. All of it. But it doesn’t matter what you say. I’m not going anywhere.” My voice dropped in the same second my face did, so that I was staring at my feet. “Before I came back the first time, I hadn’t felt anything but hate for a long, long time. It’s the only thing I felt until the day you found me in that bar and invited me into this apartment and I came face-to-face with her. She did something to me . . .”