Page 116 of Prey Tell
THE APOLOGY
Chase
“Drink?” I ask Jackson, wandering over to the small bar set up in the dining area.
“Sure, make yourself at home,” he chides, and I have to hide the smirk lifting my lips.
“It is my house,” I add, pouring us both a hefty finger of whiskey. It’s not my favorite—I prefer the smoky peat of scotch—but I know Jackson, and I know he’s a massive lightweight, so hopefully this will help him get it all out of his system.
I am fully prepared to take a verbal lashing.
He takes the drink from me and watches me skeptically. I fucking hate this. Since he befriended me early on in high school, I don’t think we’ve ever fought. Not once. Sure, we may argue and disagree about things, but never to this extent. I consider him my fifth brother. I don’t know what I’d do without him, and I can only hope he feels the same way about me, because right now, he’s looking at me like I’m a pile of shit.
Which I suppose I am.
I open my mouth to apologize again—as if my numerous texts and voicemails weren’t enough—but he holds a hand up and takes a healthy swig of the whiskey.
“I won’t pretend to know what my sister sees in you,” he starts, grimacing as he takes another sip of his drink. “I love you. You’re my closest friend. You’ve been there for me for everything. I know you’d lay your life down for me, and I hope you know that I’d do the same. But you have to know how much it scares me that your newest pursuit is my baby sister.”
I’d expected him to say something like this, but it doesn’t hurt any less. I craved his approval. It was strange, seeking it from my best friend—from someone I know so well—but that almost makes me want it more.
It also makes me feel ashamed because he’s been there every step of the way. Every one-night stand for the last two years, and even before that. Every time I throw one of my parties and warn him that it might get rowdy. Every time he sees the way I casually check women out. The time he found one of my contracts and then quickly asked me to never bring it up again. He doesn’t knowexactlywhat my proclivities are, but he has some idea. I mean, fuck, an ex-sub had cornered me in the hallway just a minute ago, demanding to know why I’d ghosted her.
So, in a way, he’s right to be worried about Juliet. I don’t blame him for wanting to keep his sister—his only living family—away from me. I can only imagine what he thinks of my dating life.
“She’s not just a pursuit, Jackson,” I tell him gently, trying to explain that she’s so much more than that.
“Then why her? What does my sister mean to you? I’ve heard her version of the events, but I haven’t heard it from you.”
I sigh and shoot the rest of my drink, and Jax does the same. His neck is flushed, and I take our glasses to refill them. My hand is steady as I pour us another generous finger.
“Your sister was always off limits,” I tell him slowly, handing him the glass of whiskey. I watch him as he takes a small sip, knowing that he’s getting tipsy. I should cut him off after this one. “Which was fine—for a long time. She was six years younger than us. I didn’t—couldn’t—notice her until she was older. I wouldn’t allow it. But I think I started to fall for her the summer before she went off to college.”
Jax scoffs. “Right, when she proposed that you take her virginity,” he says darkly, nose wrinkling.
I smirk. “She told you about that?”
He nods. “Unfortunately.”
Chuckling, I continue, knowing I’m about to lay my life bare before him. “I don’t think you realize what an enigma your family was for me, Jax,” I murmur, looking down at my glass. “I was raised by Charles Ravage—a raging alcoholic who was a horrible, ruthless businessman. A man who didn’t know how to be a good father, or a good husband. Our house was big, but it was cold. Devoid of love, of warmth, of the things that make a place a home. My brothers and I clung to each other, and if it weren’t for us being close, we’d all probably be in jail, or worse. So when I met you, and got accepted into your family, it felt like I’d won the lottery. I had something my other brothers didn’t have, though your family always tried to include them as well.”
Jackson swallows, looking down, and I continue.
“I felt accepted with you. With your parents. With Juliet. The nights I came over for dinner. The weekends I stayed over. Those are some of my favorite memories of my childhood. And then, when your parents died, I knew I had to step in. Not just for you, but for Juliet. And it was in those moments—holding her while she cried, making her favorite breakfast, ensuring the very last thing she had to worry about was money… I realized I was doing it all for her. Yes, partly for you, but she was sixteen. A sophomore in high school. I knew you were grieving, but Juliet was…” I trail off, pulling my lower lip between my teeth.
“Broken,” Jax offers.
I nod. “Yeah. Taking care of her gave me a purpose. I realized I enjoyed it—notjustbecause of her, but because of a myriad of reasons I won’t get into, and that led me into the BDSM lifestyle. By the time she came to me about taking her virginity, I was two years into exploring my kinks, and she was so…isso… perfect. Unblemished. I felt like a tainted rain cloud, always hovering, always ruining her lightness with my darkness. So I pushed her away. That night, and every day after that. I thought she was desperate, trying to check her virginity off a list, so I kept her at a distance so she wouldn’t see how much I wanted her. I couldn’t fathom that she wanted me, too.”
Jackson sighs, cheeks flushed, and sets his empty glass down. And then, to my surprise, he starts to laugh.
Maybe the whiskey was a bad idea.
“Something funny?” I mutter, trying to dispel the irritation tainting my voice. I mean, I’d bared my soul to him, and he was laughing?
“Sorry. I’m just… if you guys get married, you’d be my brother. Legally.”
I smile. “You’d officially be stuck with me.”
