Page 29 of Don't Look Away

I pause mid-step and close my eyes. I’ve known from the beginning that this place would be the worst possible situation for him. Jail is shit anyway, but here, he has nothing else to think about but the love that will never be returned. Of course, he’s spiraling. Of course, he’s in his fucking head about shit.

As soon as I get back to the car, Jackson and Lucas are on me.

“What happened?” they ask in unison as I slide into the passenger seat.

I relay the whole thing, then hand the note over to Lucas first so he can read it.

“Damn,” Lucas says, reading my brother’s words, then handing the note to Jackson. “This is messed up.”

I lean my head back on the headrest and swallow. “We’ve got to get him out of here.”

Jackson hands the note back to me. “That’s the plan.”

Closing my eyes briefly, I shake my head. “Yeah, before it was just principle. The fact that he shouldn’t be in jail. Now, it’s a matter of life and death.” I hold the note up. “He said it himself, this place is killing him.”

The ride home is silent, all of us deep in our thoughts. James is my blood brother, but he’s their brother, too. And none of us can stand the fact that he’s being caged like an animal, and being denied services for his mental health.

It’s fucked up, and it makes me more determined than ever to fix things. I’d turn to my dad, who definitely has more clout than me, but he’s never really liked James, his own damn stepson. And as far as my dad is concerned, James is exactly where he needs to be.

He’d never admit any of that to my mother, of course, but I can read between the lines. If he wanted James out of jail, he’d throw more money at the issue. He’d pull contracts. He’d put pressure on all the right people, despite the possible implications to their careers. The fact that he’s not doing any of that is very telling.

So it’s up to me. Even more now than before, my brother’s life is in my hands…

CHAPTERELEVEN

Lux

No oneever tells me what the hell is going on. After our sexfest by the hot tub, Roman just…disappeared. He was pulled away by a phone call, and then…poof, gone. No word as to where he might be going. Nothing.

Sitting on the bed, I stare down at my last, unanswered text message to him, asking where he went. It doesn’t even look like he’s read it.

What in God’s name could have pulled him away so abruptly? A family emergency, maybe? But if that was the case, then why not just say that?

I don’t like this. I don’t like being kept in the dark. And it always works out this way…Roman and I share an incredibly intimate moment, and then something happens, and he’s pulled away. Being campus king is a full-time job, I guess, but why be so secretive about it? Honestly, it’s the cloak and dagger shit that makes it all so sketchy.

Still staring down at the text, I tap on his name, and hit “call.” A vein of anxiety slithers through me when I hear the phone ringing. I never call him, because we both prefer to text, but he really hasn’t given me a choice, has he? If he doesn’t want a phone call, then he should reply to my damn—

“Hello?” My thoughts are cut off by the sound of his deep baritone drifting through the receiver.

My heart stops.

I didn’t really expect him to answer.

“Roman?” I ask, my voice a little hesitant. “Where’d you go?”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line like he’s debating whether or not to answer me. Finally, he says, “Something happened with my brother. He’s okay, but he was rushed to medical. I’m sorry I didn’t text you back earlier. I had a few things I had to deal with.”

“Ah, well, I’m glad your brother is okay,” is all I can really say. I want to ask him when he’ll be home, but I’m afraid it’ll sound too clingy, so I just allow silence to fall between us.

“Yeah, thanks,” he says.

There’s a distance in his voice that pops up whenever we start talking about his brother. He never seems comfortable talking about his family, which is a bit weird, honestly. My instinct is to confront it head-on and ask him why he’s being so cagey, but I know that will just make him clam up even tighter, so I resist.

“Well, thanks for answering. I was just wondering if you were okay,” I say, trying hard not to sound like the clingy girlfriend. Or fuck buddy. Or whatever it is that we are.

“Yup, talk to you soon,” he says, then abruptly hangs up.

Uh,okay.

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