Say the Word(18)

Jamie smiled easily, but his face was too pale. His latest surgery had taken more out of him than any of his previous ones. He tired easily these days and, though still his ever-cheery self, he must’ve been in considerable pain.

“The lonely old bag probably just didn’t want to go home to her cats,” Jamie said, scooting over so I could join him on the bed. Once I’d settled in, I dropped my head on his shoulder and he slid a comforting arm around my back.

“My thoughts exactly.” I sighed, letting my tired eyes droop closed. This was always the best part of my day. Though school had never been my favorite place, the last year without Jamie there with me had made it exponentially worse. “Missed you, Jamie.”

“Missed you too, sis,” he said, his arm tightening in a brief reassuring squeeze. “But I’ll be back on my feet in no time and we’ll rule Jackson High, you mark my words,” he joked lightly, knowing that in all likelihood he would never again walk the halls alongside me. “Ms. Ingraham will be so infatuated with my handsome mug, she’ll give both of us A’s for the term. Oh, and we’ll have a free pass to skip out of classes. I mean, seriously, what hall monitor is going to stop me? I can pull the cancer card. You’ve gotta be a real dick to turn in the kid with osteosarcoma, even if he is tardy three days in a row.”

I tried to smile at his attempts to lighten the mood but I couldn’t quite find the strength within myself. Squeezing my eyelids together harshly, I did my best to get control over my gathering tears. Jamie hated it when I cried — he’d much rather joke about his illness than weep about it. He didn’t do self-pity and, while most days I admired that, sometimes I just needed to be sad. I needed to cry and rage against the world for its injustice. Shake my fists at whatever god was up there, for slowly draining the life from the best person I’d ever known.

We fell silent for a time. Jamie likely sensed I wasn’t in the mood to joke with him and instead gave me the quiet solace I desperately needed. His very presence recharged me whenever my batteries dropped to dangerously low levels and I’d begun to fear that I couldn’t go on juggling school, work, his illness, and my scatterbrained parents.

“So who do I have to beat up?” he whispered quietly, breaking the silence.

“What?” I lifted my head to look him in the eyes.

“The boy, sis. Whoever he is, brotherly duty requires that I give him a piece of my mind.” Jamie lifted his hand to touch his chin in a gesture of deep contemplation. “Perhaps even a beat down is in order. Put the fear of god into him, and all that jazz.” As if he could even stand, let alone give someone a beat down. I rolled my eyes affectionately.

“There’s no boy, Jamie.”

“The size large, $200 cashmere you’re wearing would suggest otherwise,” he said, staring pointedly at my torso. Sebastian’s warm sweater was swimming on my petite form, cocooning me from neck to mid-thigh — I’d forgotten to give it back in my rush to escape both the confines of his car and the perceptive look in his eyes. “Thought we didn’t lie to each other, Lux?” Jamie’s voice held an unusual note of hurt.

“We don’t!” I protested immediately. “This is nothing! It’s nothing. I’d tell you if there was a boy.”

“Well, if it’s nothing, then explain.” He looked at me expectantly.

I sighed in resignation.

“I was walking here in the rain and apparently some guy was practicing for the Indy 500 in his Mercedes. The maniac took a turn too fast and doused me with a puddle in the process. He felt bad so he gave me his sweater and a ride here. That’s it. End of story.”

“Who was it?”

“Does it matter?” I deflected, for the first time in my life hesitant to share something with my twin. There was something personal about the car ride, something I didn’t want to share with anyone just yet. I wanted to hold it close to my heart for a little while longer, a private memory that belonged only to me and the beautiful boy in the rain.

“Clearly it does, if you’re being so secretive about it.”

Damn. Jamie was never one to beat around the bush and, when it came down to it, I was a pushover for anything he asked of me. I sighed again.

“It was Sebastian Covington, okay? Satisfied?” I could feel the heat of a blush rise to my cheeks and I avoided eye contact with Jamie at all costs, afraid of what my gaze might reveal.

“Oh my god,” Jamie said, a note of incredulity lacing his tone. “I can’t believe it.”

“What?” I asked, staring pointedly at the flowers I’d brought with me last week in an attempt to brighten up the dreary hospital room. Their stems were limp now, their shriveled brown petals scattered on the particleboard tabletop. I’d have to bring some new ones with me tomorrow.

“You like him,” Jamie said matter-of-factly.

“I don’t.” The denial came swiftly, shooting from my lips like a curse word.

“Mhmm,” Jamie hummed. “Whatever you say.”

“I. Don’t. Like. Sebastian. Freaking. Covington,” I growled out.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” Jamie was grinning at me irritatingly.

“Drop it, James.” I only called him James when I was pissed — a fact he knew all too well, which could explain why his grin got even bigger. “You’re being ridiculous.”