Page 2 of Darling Obsession
Losing people you love makes you break or it makes you hard.That’s what Grandma said years ago, just before she died, and I guess she thought it was fortifying wisdom. As if being hard is a virtue. My dad was already dead. Mom wasn’t dead, but she was pretty much dead to me. And maybe Grandma knew I wasn’t going to end up with some happily ever after. I wasn’t Jameson.
Maybe she knew I was already hardening and she wanted to make it okay.
But just because you’re hard doesn’t mean you’re not brittle as hell.
“So,” I drawl, stalling. “Jameson slept with a sweet, small-town girl, who just happens to be beautiful, formonths, while engaged to her, but didn’t fuck her. This is the story he’s selling, and we’re believing it?”
“It’s not a story, Harlan,” Jameson informs me, his blue eyes cutting. “It’s not a lie. You can ask Megan. She’s an honest person, and she’ll tell you the truth.”
“No need. I’m sure your fiancée will tell the exact same story you do.”
“Because it’s the truth.” The look on Jamie’s face says he’d really love to punch me, if only he could. Kind of like when we were kids and I was still taller than him, and I’d hold his toysup high so he couldn’t reach them, and he’d squeal at me until I gave them back. Even I couldn’t resist giving him whatever he wanted.
Now he’s taller than me, by like an inch, and I’m sure he loves it.
He stares me down for a stupidly long waste of time during which I ignore him, Savannah sighs, and Damian says, “Can we get on with this? Some of us have businesses to run.”
I finally force out, “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Jamie mutters.
Savannah shakes her head at me.
It’s not that I don’t want to get along with our youngest brother. I just can’t. It’s chemical or something.
“Let’s just get this done,” Savi prompts.
“Let’s.” Graysen has joined us, and now looms over the seating area where the rest of us have gathered. As usual, everyone seems to be waiting for his lead.
I’ve always thought of our oldest brother as the mountain among us; solid and unmovable. Secure, right down to his molten roots and tectonic plates. Shaped by the forces that created him—our parents and our grandparents—Graysen is the glorious fruit of their best efforts.
I’m more like obsidian. Volcanic glass, jagged and hard, a scar coughed up on the landscape, forged in chaos and fire. Cooled. Solidified. Sharp. But weaker than you’d think.
Even solid black rock is vulnerable to the tides. To the smashing of other rocks against it. To all those forces beyond its control.
Paper and ink.
The will of those who want to see it break.
Graysen picks up the box. “Savannah. Do you want to select the next envelope? Might as well make it tradition.”
“Sure.” Our sister stands, and joins him on the far side of the coffee table. “Here goes.”
As she slips her fingers into the box with anticipation, I get a glimpse of Savannah as a kid. We shared a room until we were eight. As twins, we went through school together. Went away to boarding school together. Mom even dressed us alike, sometimes.
She was my best friend, until she wasn’t.
Sometimes I don’t even know the dark-haired powerhouse of a woman standing in front of me in the smart blue dress, looking so grown up.
As she draws a small gold envelope from the box, I want to look disinterested. Bored, even.
I’m terrified.
Because I can’t be the only one who loses this game. Who loses everything. My inheritance, my ownership in the family business, my place in the family. I’d no longer be Chief Financial Officer of Vance Industries.
My siblings could choose to hire me back, as an employee intheircompany. But really, would they hire me, if they didn’t have to?
I’m not beloved like Jameson.
