Sniffling, I rub my eyes with the back of my hand to wipe away the tears. “I promise I’ll be a good girl.”
Jaxon rears his head back, his eyes flaring wide.
“I’ll do your chores, even clean your room if you want. Justpleasehelp me with this. I don’t want to flunk my grade and get held back.” If I get held back, it will be the end of the world for me.
Jaxon sighs and runs a hand through his wavy black hair. All the fight leaves him, loosening his tensed muscles, and his shoulders sag. “Get your stuff, and I’ll help.”
I smile and race to my bedroom, grab all of my schoolwork, then run back to Jaxon’s room. I worry that he changed his mind and locked me out, but the anxiety melts away when his door stays open in invitation.
Jaxon’s sitting on a black eight-ball beanbag, his expression flat like he’s bored and has better things to do. He flicks his fingers at the open door. I spin and close it, then go to his side. I plop onto the floor in front of him with a relieved smile.
“Thank you for helping me,” I say. “You’re the best big brother.”
Jaxon stiffens, and he sucks in a sharp breath. I tilt my head, worried I said something wrong.
“We’re not making this a habit. You got it?” Jaxon mumbles after a moment of silence.
I blink and nod in agreement, then pull out my math bookand the workbook. I offer him a smile, hoping it keeps him in this nicer mood, but he refuses to look at me.
“Promise,” I say.
Time passes quickly as Jaxon helps me. He shocks me with patience and kindness as he guides me through the math problems. When we finish, he helps me with science, too. That one frustrates me more because of how confusing it is, but Jaxon remains patient and finds a different way to simplify the information and questions in the workbook.
My stomach growls once we finish, and after glancing at his digital clock, I realize we’ve been here for three hours. Dinner will be ready any time now, and I wonder if our parents came home yet.
I close the books and stuff them into my backpack. Jaxon fiddles with his boombox, most likely changing the cassette tapes since the tape we were listening to ended ten minutes ago.
I should leave, but I can’t look away from him. Under all that anger and rough exterior, I find him cute. He has long eyelashes, sharp cheekbones, and a jawline like those male models in magazines. Jaxon’s longer hair showcases his waves, and the locks look silky soft. He’s someone I would crush on at school if I wasn’t some circus freak that everyone hates.
Also, if he wasn’t my brother.
My cheeks burn from embarrassment and guilt from my wandering thoughts about my brother.
“I’ve got a question for you,” Jaxon says.
I blink, my spine straightens, and I drop my gaze to the floor. I hope he didn’t catch me staring at him and that he’s not about to yell at me for it.
It’s quiet between us, and I’m confused. Why isn’t he saying anything?
Gathering courage and curling my fingers inmy skirt, I meet his stare, already finding him looking at me like he’s been waiting for me to do so.
“Has anyone hit you?” he says, throwing me through a loop with his blunt question.
My eyebrows draw inward. “Why?”
Music plays, filling the tense silence between us as Jaxon continues to stare at me unblinkingly.
“You flinched,” he says. “I wasn’t going to hit you, and you flinched.”
I drop my gaze and pull at a loose thread on the seam of my dress. I shrug a shoulder.
“It doesn’t matter,” I mumble.
I wait for Jaxon to snap at me or say something snarky. Instead, he remains silent. The rock song plays, and I thank the stars for it because then Jaxon won’t hear my heavy breathing as I panic. He won’t care what I’ve been through. In his eyes, I’m aprepand aGoody Two-Shoeswho wants to beDaddy’s little girl. I’m not supposed to be this meek and broken girl.
“I should go. Thank you for helping me.” I stand with my backpack in my hand.
Jaxon doesn’t step in my path when I walk past him, nor does he call out to me and demand answers. He lets me go, just like everybody else in my life.
