Which, of course, is why she chose this place.
The thing is, even though I’ve been looking forward to drinks with my best friend and my brother, now I’m not so sure I’m in the mood for conversation. I’m too busy pretending like my entire world isn’t teetering on the brink of complete and total disaster.
In other words, I’m a mess. And while an evening out is probably a great idea, I really don’t want to dump all my problems on Ethan and Cass. But I have a feeling that once I’ve gotten some wine into me, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.
With a sigh, I grab hold of the door handle and give it a tug, the motion fueled by a mental shrug. After all, that’s what friends are for, right?
The lighting inside is dim, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. I finally find them at a table all the way in the back, and as I head over there, I have to agree with Cass’s assessment—the place is funky and fun, but not so loud you can’t come to catch up with friends.
A circular bar is the centerpiece of the room, and as I walk past it, I hear the familiar sounds of flirting, pickups, and the hum of new relationships. The sound is bittersweet, because a week ago, I would have walked smugly past the bar, secure in the knowledge that I was with the only man I ever truly wanted—and certain that he wanted me right back.
Tonight, though, I’m weighed down by the fear that I am going to lose him.
I force the thought away, then school my features into a happy smile of greeting when I see them at a back booth.
Cass is dressed simply in jeans and a fitted white T-shirt with some graphic on it that I can’t see from this angle. Even casual, she looks awesome. The shirt covers her shoulder, but there’s no ignoring the vibrant colors of the tattooed tail feathers that trail down her arm. Her hair is raven black with streaks of blue, and she wears no jewelry that I can see—with the exception of the occasional glitter from the diamond stud in her nose.
My brother looks equally amazing. And if he wasn’t my brother, I’d go so far as to say he looks hot. He’s also in jeans and he’s wearing a light cotton button-down that he’s left untucked. He has a casual I-don’t-give-a-fuck air that goes with his slightly mussed hair. He almost looks like a beach bum, but his bearing suggests otherwise. Yeah, sister or no, I’ll say that he looks hot. And if the women in the bar shooting him interested glances are any indication, I’m not the only one who thinks so.
He and Cass sit opposite each other at a booth, and they’re deep in conversation as I arrive.
“Hey,” I call as I get closer. “Sorry I’m a little late.”
Cass looks at me, then frowns. “Are you okay? Other than the obvious, I mean. I’ve seen all the social media bullshit.” She must decide it’s too intense a question to start out with, though, because before I have time to even think how to answer that, she looks at my brother. “The bloom must be fading. I don’t think she got laid this morning.”
Ethan actually chokes on his drink, and I laugh. A genuine laugh, which reminds me why I love Cass.
“Actually,” I say, as I scoot into the booth beside Cass. “You’re right.” I grin wickedly. “But last night was exceptional.”
“No, no, no, no, no,” my brother says, his interruption so on cue that Cass and I look at each other and grin. “Do not even go there, or I will have to start running down the list of women I’ve met in Orange County. Laguna Beach is a happy hunting ground, I kid you not.”
I debate silence for a moment, but I just can’t deny the truth. “Sorry,” I say to Ethan. Then I turn to Cass and say, “Honestly, Jackson is just so—”
Across the table, Ethan groans as if in pain.
“Fine,” I say, then turn my attention back to Cass. “How’s your love life?”
“Oh, hell,” Ethan chimes in. “Why not skip the romance and jump straight to your sex life?”
We both turn to him, and he grins and raises his hands. “Hey, girl on girl and no sister in the picture? I’m perfectly fine with that.”
I smirk at Cass. “You’ll have to forgive my brother. He’s an ass.”
“But such a cute one, don’t you think?”
“He is pretty adorable,” I say, and though we’re bantering to get a rise out of him, the fact is it’s true.
I adore my brother, and I always have. He’s the only good thing, in fact, that came out of the horror of my childhood, because when it was all said and done, he walked away healthy.
He’s been living in London and only recently returned to the States. And between work and the soap opera that is now my life, I haven’t gotten to see him nearly enough. He’s got a few weeks off before he starts back up at his job, so he’s been using our parents’ house as a home base. That’s not a situation that’s conducive to visits as far as I’m concerned, because the only thing I want less than to shove bamboo under my fingernails is to visit my parents. So I was beyond thrilled when he called and suggested drinks with me and Cass. “No significant others,” he’d said. “Jackson’s awesome, but I want the dirt.”
Apparently he meant it, because now he’s all about the gossip. He kicks back, looks me square in the eye, and says, “I’ve read all the tabloid shit. What’s the real story?”
The waitress arrives with the fried avocado, tuna tartare, and specialty martinis they’d ordered before I arrived, so I wait until she’s gone to run down all the drama. At least, all the drama I’m willing to share.
“No way,” my brother says. He grabs a slice of fried avocado and points it at me. “He didn’t do it.”
“Kill Reed?” Cass asks, as though we could be talking about anything else.
“I spent time with him. Jackson’s not a killer.”
“Thanks for the assessment.” It’s one I agree with, actually. Jackson isn’t a killer. But he is a man who would kill when necessary. And if he ends up convicted, how the hell will I live with the knowledge that he killed for me?
“Anytime.” Ethan smiles, but it seems a little sad.
“What?” I demand. “What happened with Mom and Dad to send you racing up to Los Angeles?”
He waves the question away. “Nothing. Really. I just needed my space. And I wasn’t even thinking about that. It just sucks that you have to deal with this murder stuff and all the crap that the tabloids are printing and posting all over the web.” He lifts a shoulder. “It’s just all a mess.”
Since I can’t argue with that, I don’t.
“I think the hardest thing on Jackson is that he didn’t get to bring his daughter home,” I say.
“Well, yeah,” Cass says. “You guys went all the way to Santa Fe and then got slammed with the news he’s a prime suspect. It sucks,” she adds, in what might be the understatement of the century.
Ethan’s reaction is entirely different. He’s staring at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Jackson has a kid?”
I nod, realizing that although Cass has known this for almost as long as I have, I never told my brother this little family secret. “The media doesn’t know. He wants to keep it quiet to protect her from, well, from all of this mess. So don’t, you know . . .”
I trail off, and he swats my words away as if they are a nuisance. “Of course I won’t say anything, but Jesus, Syl. You’re dating a guy with a kid?”
“He’s just a guy,” Cass says. “Fatherhood isn’t his defining characteristic.”
Ethan cuts her a quick glance. “No. No, it’s not. But if it’s serious between you and Jackson, and if you’re thinking that he’s your guy and maybe there’s marriage down the line—”
He doesn’t finish the thought. He doesn’t have to. At least not to me. Because he and I have had more than our fair share of conversations about parenting. And in every single one of them we both acknowledged the fact that with parents like ours, we needed to stay far, far away from that particular vocation.
Ethan doesn’t know the hell I went through with my dad, but he does know how distant I am from both our parents. And even though they treated him like a prince when he was ill, the truth is that even his relationship with them is strained, because they never really saw him as a kid. More like a fragile commodity. And while he is willing to spend time with them and truly loves them, he’s told me at least a dozen times that he’s not sure he could be a dad, because what the hell does he know about genuine closeness?