Page 102 of InfraRed

How did I not know?

I should’ve known, right? Or was I too self-absorbed in my pain—how she was hurting me to notice what she was doing to him? Is this why he spent most of my childhood and early teen years avoiding me?

So many questions I’ll never have answers to.

I don’t have to open my eyes or move to know I’m alone. Graham didn’t let me away from his side at all last night except for the hour he thought he slipped away to talk to my dad. I knew the moment he left the bed, but my body and mind were too tired to care. I knew he wasn’t going far. Not after that car ride home.

I toss the sheets off and go to the bathroom. When I look in the mirror, I wince. Where my face smacked the concrete is an angry shade of purple. I press the area, surprised it is not more tender.

Grabbing a washcloth, I wet it under some warm water, gently washing my face. Then I grab the toothpaste tube and dab a bit on my toothbrush, scrubbing away the night.

Back in the bedroom, I go to the bag Graham packed for me, choosing a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. I dress and exit the room.

Two sets of eyes lock on me as soon as the door opens, both looking at me as if I’ll break.

Okay, I don’t mind hovering, but I’m not a fan of those pitying looks.

But I understand. What do you say to the girl whose mother kidnapped her as bait, then died in a shootout to save her?

My guess is not a lot because it’s too bizarre for there to be an appropriate response.

The only thing I can do is reassure them I’m fine, so with my head up, I walk through the room to the bistro set they sit around.

And I shouldn’t do it. I know I wasn’t supposed to hear the conversation between Graham and Jagger. But the second his eyes meet mine, guilt for what my mother did to him propels me into his chest as my arms wrap around him. “I’m sorry,” I whisper against his neck.

He squeezes me back. “For what?”

“For what she did to you,” I say, my voice breaking with each word.

He tenses and jumps away from me. His hands rip through his hair as his green eyes meet mine filled with panic and horrorwhile his fists clench and unclench at his side. “Wh-what are you talking about?” His teeth grind as he stutters through the words.

Graham stands behind me, wrapping his hand around my waist, and bringing me to his chest. I feel the tension radiating off him as he glares at his brother’s defensive posture. “Calm down,” he bellows. Resignation flits over Jagger’s face, and Graham swears low. “Jagger, I didn’t mean to…”

Jagger waves him off. “It’s fine. It’s what you’re supposed to do, right?”

“No. Jagger, you know that’s not what I meant.”

I don’t know what they’re talking about. What I do know is Jagger, my brother and best friend, needs me. He’s needed me as long as I’ve needed him, but I never saw it. I break free of Graham’s hold—let’s be real; he lets me go—and throw myself at Jagger again.

He stiffens as I wrap my arms around him and whisper again how sorry I am. My tears soak his shirt as I murmur apologies for never seeing—knowing what she was doing. I tell him I understand if he hates me. That he can blame me because it was my mom who hurt him.

That makes him wrap his arms around me, squeezing me back as he buries his face in my hair. “I don’t hate you, Case. You’re my little sister. I couldn’t hate you if I tried.”

After a few more minutes, he releases me. Graham is quick to grab me, pulling me against his chest again, and I know it’s because he needs me close.

“I…” I look at the ground, ashamed of myself for eavesdropping on them last night. “Last night, I overheard you two talking. I heard you say you’re Noah’s…”

“Don’t say it, Case. I love you, but please don’t say that.” His voice is like gravel as he pleads with me, ripping his handsthrough his hair again. He will be bald before he’s twenty-five at this rate.

I bite my lip, nodding but I need to know. “But Mom’s gone.” I look over my shoulder at Graham. “What happens to Noah?”

Graham’s eyes lift to Jagger, a look crossing his face that causes Jagger to sigh.

“I can’t be his… Fuck, Casey, I can’t even say the goddamn word without getting physically ill.”

“That’s why you’ve never seen him, isn’t it?”

He nods. “I don’t want to hate him, Casey. He didn’t do any of this, but I can’t raise him. I just can’t.”

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