Page 96 of Revelation

“He was the same way with Mariela, too,” Josh continues. “Our housekeeper before my mom died. I used to beg Jonas to come outside to climb a tree with me and he’d be like, ‘No, I’m gonnaclean pots with Mariela.’” Josh laughs and shakes his head at the memory. “Right after my mom died, it’s a long story, but my dad blamed Mariela for my mom’s death and sent her away—and Jonas just completely melted down. I guess losing them both was just too much for the little guy.” Emotion threatens to overtake Josh’s face. He looks down and composes himself.

“You lost them, too,” I say softly, touching his arm.

Josh looks back up, his face earnest. “Yeah, but I’m notJonas.”

“I don’t understand.”

He shakes his head. “I’mJosh. The fixer. The closer. Life throws shit at me, I just deal with it. I solve problems. I fix things. I’m coated in Teflon, baby—shit slides right off me and doesn’t leave a mark. But not Jonas. Even Mariela told me, ‘Take care of your brother, Josh. You know he’s the sensitive one.’”

“So you thought it was your job to take care of Jonas, even though you were so little, too?”

“It’s always been my job to take care of Jonas, and it always will be. I’m sure in the womb Jonas was trying to understand the functionality of the umbilical cord or articulate the meaning of life, and I was like, ‘Dude, chill the fuck out—doesn’t this amniotic fluid feelawesome? It’s like a Jacuzzi!’”

I know Josh’s words are funny, but the expression on his face isn’t. My heart’s suddenly aching for him. I push myself even closer into him, run my hands through his hair, and kiss him gently. When we break apart, tears are streaming down my cheeks, but Josh’s eyes are bone-dry.

“When was the last time you cried?” I ask softly.

He shrugs. “Probably not since I was about ten. I cried like a baby when my mom died and Mariela got sent away, and I used to cry a ton the first few years whenever Jonas got sent away. But then one day when Jonas was gone, my dad found me sitting on the grass, crying my eyes out, and he reamed me for being a ‘fucking cry-baby-pussy-ass.’” He shrugs. “And that was that. I never cried again. I’ve come very, very close many times since then, but I’ve never actually shed a tear.”

I’m blown away. “Not once?”

He shakes his head. “I think there might be something wrong with me.”

I make a sad face.

“So, anyway, I got sidetracked. I was supposed to be telling you how Miss Westbrook got Jonas to talk, right?” He shifts his body underneath me and I’m treated to the unmistakable sensation of his hard-on poking me in the crotch.

“Oh,” I say. “Hello.”

“Hello.” He grins.

“What’s that for?”

“You’re sitting on my lap.”

“That’s all it takes?”

“Apparently.”

I grin at him. “That’s all it takes for me, too,” I say.

“I’m addicted to you,” he whispers.

“I’m addicted to you,” I whisper back, my heart racing.

He nuzzles his nose into mine. We kiss gently for a few minutes, listening to the music. My crotch is absolutely burning.

He pulls back. “What were we talking about?”

“Miss Westbrook.”

“Oh, yeah.” He lays a quick peck on my lips. “Jonas became Miss Westbrook’s after-school helper, and to make a long story short, she did this crazy, amazing thing he hadn’t experienced in a really long time: she was nice to him.” He shrugs. “And that’s pretty much it—well, and she was smoking hot, too.” He grins.

“But how do you think she convinced him to speak? A year’s a long time.”

“I don’t know exactly what she said or did to him when they were all alone in that classroom, but whatever it was, he adored her. She could have asked Jonas to fly and he would have figured out how to sprout wings.” He sighs. “All I can say is it’s a good thing Sarah’s not some kind of evil madman bent on destroying the universe because if she were, we’d all be screwed. The boy would figure out how to do it for her.”

“I think the feeling’s mutual.”

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