Page 112 of My Fiancé's Brother 2

Dark fear clawed at my throat. I took a deep breath. “You need to remember that we're at a funeral. Have some respect.”

“You don’t belong here. You don’t understand this world and you never will.”

I had so many things I wanted to say to her, but the words were stuck inside of me. Without looking at her, I walked out on shaking legs.

Jackson drove us home.He didn’t say a word. We walked into the house. We went upstairs to change. I let Chloe outside and stood on the deck when I heard a tremendous crash from inside.

I opened the back door and watched in shock. Jackson had thrown one of our dining room chairs across the room. One of the lamps smashed. I held my breath as he stalked across the room and picked up that chair. And then he began to smash the chair against the dining room table repeatedly.

Chunks of wood flew everywhere. He continued to hammer the table with the chair until the chair smashed into three pieces. He turned and fired part of the chair against the wall. A photo on the wall dangled and swung before crashing to the floor. Jackson picked up another piece of the chair and threw that across the room. It bounced off the living room window. I was surprised that the glass didn’t shatter.

I stood transfixed as Jackson flipped the dining room table. The flower vase, papers, books, and candlesticks all went flying with a messy, loud crash. I watched in mute horror as he started to repeatedly kick at one of the upturned legs of the table until it splintered off. Then he picked up the table leg and heaved it against the giant mirror in the front hallway. Glass shattered with a deafening crash.

He turned and looked at me, and his face was a mask of anguish. I stood in shock. Then he stomped out the front door, slamming it hard behind him. I heard the roar of his truck, and then he was gone. Ilooked in disbelief at our living room. It looked like a tornado had hit it. My husband, who never showed his emotions, had no idea how to process his pain.

Keeping Chloe outside, I put on my shoes and vacuumed up the glass. I cleaned everything up to the best of my ability. I was exhausted. Emotionally defeated. I climbed into bed with Chloe and fell into a dreamless sleep.

I wokeup when a warm body pulled me against him.

“I’m sorry,” his warm breath was against my neck.

I didn’t say anything. I just lay there and stared into the dark.

I felt his big hand stroke my hair. “Did I scare you?”

I thought about that. The entire time I watched him go ballistic, not once did it cross my mind that he would hurt me.

“No.”

A long pause wavered between us. “I'd never hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

I twisted around so that I could face him. “You didn’t scare me.”

“What I did was unacceptable.”

I lifted my hand up to his face. Here was a man who had spent his entire life not showing his emotions to anyone. It came as no surprise that he had no framework in which to deal with his anger and his pain. “Jackson.”

“That'll never happen again. Okay?”

“I know.”

We lay there in silence for a long time.

“Chris was 24, and I was 21 when we met in BUDs. He was older than all of us. We were all just a bunch of dumb kids, but he was wiser than the rest of us. He showed us how to be men.”

I stroked his arm, listening.

“I had a lot of issues. More than you could imagine but he was never afraid of me. He was always there for me.”

“Jackson.” My heart was breaking for him.

“I can’t imagine my life without him.” His voice was so full of anguish tears started to fall down my cheeks. I wrapped my arms around him and held him. He buried his face into my neck and I cried for him.

His voice filled with anguish. “I’m so fucked up.”

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