Page 21 of Until Tomorrow Comes
“You’re my sister, Kit-Kat, we stick together,” he says, his voice suddenly dropping. “I let him get between us once, I’m never letting that happen again. And you better believe I’m going to make sure that fucker gets what’s coming for him.”
The conviction in his voice gives me chills as I turn to look at him. His jaw is clenched, as is his fist, which is so tight his knuckles are turning white. Something I overheard Jackson say earlier plays through my mind and my brows scrunch together.
“And by that you mean helping to find him so thecopscanarresthim, right?” I ask quietly.
He doesn’t answer me right away, and his jaw ticks before he lets out a deep exhale.
“Yeah,” He huffs. “Exactlythat.”
I pull away from him, watching him carefully.
“Alan.” I say firmly. “Don’t do anything stupid. Just let the cops do their jobs, and lock him up.”
“Kat…” he starts to say, but then his gaze snags above my eye, practically glaring at the stitches like they personally offended him. His expression has me concerned he’s about to leave me, and go hunt Zack down himself.
“I’m okay, Al,” I say gently.
He says nothing, but then again, he doesn’t have to. I already know he disagrees with that statement.
“Maybe not okay, per se. I’m sore as fuck and severely traumatized, but I’m alive,” I say, squeezing his hand. “And as much as I appreciate my big brother defending me, I don’t need you to do something foolish, and act like you’re above the law.”
I wait for his eyes to find mine before continuing.
“I just got you back, Alan. I don’t need you doing anything that will ruin that.”
He stares at me for a long moment before nodding slowly, and squeezing my hand gently. Standing to his feet, he stretches, taking one last look down the beach before turning to me and helping me to my feet.
“Why don’t you freshen up? I’ll go see if Jack needs help getting dinner ready.”
But even as the two of us make our way inside, I’m still not convinced my brother will back off.
I know exactly what he would do if he found Zack first.
And it would not be pretty.
8
Jackson
Sleep clutches at the edges of my mind, calling to and tempting me to remain in its clutches.
But it’s no use, I’m awake.
In a daze, I watch the shadows spin around on my ceiling, caused by the blades of the fan, while I try to figure out what woke me up. Sighing, I glance at the alarm clock that sits on my dresser across the room.
My brows furrow when I see that it’s only two in the morning.
Getting a full eight hours of sleep is not something that happens anymore, but this time I barely got an hour. Scrubbing a hand across my face, I contemplate if I should just give up on trying to sleep again. I could start a pot of coffee, and go for a run on the beach when the sun comes up.
Just as I’m about to get out of bed, I hear a soft thump followed by a muffled cry. Instinctively, I’m on my feet and across the room before my brain catches up. It isn’t until I yank the door open and find myself standing in front of Kat’s room that I finally pause.
My hand hovers over the doorknob, and I force myself to listen.
After Alan left two weeks ago, Kat opened up a little bit. She had wanted to warn me that she had been experiencing panic attacks and nightmares, saying she didn’t want to startle me.
She didn’t want to startle me.
My teeth clench at the memory.
