Page 71 of Murder & Mayhem
I sniffled so I didn’t get snot all over my brother. I already had him covered in blood. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let’s shower and meet Ari. And then tomorrow, maybe I’ll call that therapist.”
“Great plan. Let’s get the fuck outta here. I think that guy shit himself and it smells disgusting.”
I laughed, because yeah, he definitely had, and then followed Gideon out. I didn’t feel better, but maybe for the first time since I’d seen that note, I felt something other than numb, and I guessed that was progress.
CHAPTER 27
JAMESON
Iran my fingers along the kitchen countertops, lost in my head while Bailey continued to relay a play-by-play of everything that was in the fridge.
“I can’t believe they stocked it for us. This is wild.”
I grinned at the excitement in his voice. It was still unusual, Bailey being legitimately happy, and I cherished every second of it.
“Cara explained that to us,” I reminded him patiently. “The program gives us a head start. Groceries and two months of rent and utilities paid so that we’re not behind before we can even get on our feet.” Not to mention bus passes for both of us, so I could get to work and Bailey to school, and a stipend for a wardrobe, so we would be ready for both of those things.
“Oh yeah.” Bailey grimaced. During our time in the inpatient facility, we learned that Bailey suffered from short-term memory loss. The doctors believed it might be psychological, as they didn’t see a specific injury that caused it, but who knew.
That was one ofthe many, many things I felt guilty about and that the therapists at the home had helped me work through. I’d been learning not to place the blame on myself for things that were out of my control and to give myself grace for the things that might have slipped through the cracks.
CPTSD. That was both of our official diagnoses. Among others. Acute stress disorder, major depressive disorder, panic disorder, and reactive attachment disorder had all been thrown around at some point or another. Fun times.
The last year had been a lot. Extensive therapy was no joke, and Bailey and I had both struggled for a long time. But getting us admitted had been the best thing I could have possibly done for us, and I didn’t regret it at all.
Bailey was still talking, but I moved from the kitchen and wandered into the back hall with two bedrooms. I’d tried to insist that we only needed one, but our social worker, Cara, had put her foot down. “That was necessary in the past, Jamie, for both protection and financial reasons. Now, it’s time to grow. You both need your own rooms. Spaces that are just yours.” It had seemed excessive, but now that I stood in the bedroom, my own bedroom, I understood why she’d been adamant about it. This was mine. Everything in it was mine. And it was all new, too. Not necessarily expensive, but I didn’t care. The queen-sized bed was on an actual bedframe, the kind with drawers underneath, which was helpful to save space since the room was a little tight. I had a dresser that was filled with new clothes that fit me. Socks and underwear without holes. Shoes were in the closet that the soles weren’t flapping on.
I turned from the room before I got emotional, and immediately Bailey was in my arms, hugging me tightly. “This is amazing! Thank you!”
I hugged him back with a laugh. “It’s not me. It’s the program.” And maybe alittle meddling from Luca and the Vecchio brothers, but I couldn’t prove that.
“Yeah, but you’re the one who forced us to get help. And even though I hated you for it a lot of the time, I’m so grateful, Jamie. Out of all the brothers, I got the best one.”
Praise was still weird for me, but I accepted it. Especially from Bailey. Because there were large portions of the past year where Bailey had hated me. He’d screamed and yelled at me during our family therapy sessions and then refused to speak to me at all afterwards. It had been so fucking hard, but I’d known it was his way of processing his trauma and that I was his safe space that he could lash out at without worrying about the consequences. It had taken some time, but we’d worked through things, and now here we were.
I’d gotten my GED while at the facility, and I was enrolled in online classes at the community college. Cara had helped me get a decent job, one where I made more than enough to cover the discounted rent and utilities in this place and still have some extra. We even had benefits. Bailey had been doing online classes last year, but he was going to go to an actual school for his senior year. Which started next week. I was terrified but so fucking proud.
Things were good. I felt free. I still got scared sometimes. Still looked over my shoulder, expecting everything to come crashing down. I was always going to have hard days and be on medication and probably need therapy, but I felt hope. Hurting myself was no longer the only way I could shut off the voices. Maybe Bailey and I finally had a chance at a future.
My phone vibrated and I pulled it out of my pocket, smiling when I saw it was from Dominic.
I’d gone no contact with him and everyone else from those last days for six months. It had been part of my intensive therapy plan. I didn’t speak with anyoneoutside those walls. It had been a long six months, but I’d been glad for the rule because I might have caved before that, and I’d needed that time.
Our first call after that had been two minutes. I’d panicked after he’d said hello and my therapist had ended up having to get on the line to tell him what had been going on.
Things had gotten better after that. Phone calls at first, then video chats. When I’d gotten my own phone, we’d begun texting too. That had been my favorite because it was less formal. We’d chat about our days and send memes or articles that we found interesting. Dominic would tell funny stories about his brothers, and I’d talk about all the wild stuff that had gone on there. It had felt good. Natural.
I hadn’t seen him though. Not in person. I could have at the end, but for some reason I could never bring myself to ask him to come and visit. It didn’t feel right. Dominic belonged out in the real world, not there.
I pulled open the thread and smiled at the message. It was a meme of a Tumblr post about a teleporter with ADHD. It was so fucking random, not about anything we were talking about, and I loved it. My toes curled in the soft area rug under my feet. I pressed my palm against my stomach in an effort to stop the butterflies, but there was no stopping them when it came to Nicky. I liked him.
“What did Daddy send now?” Bailey asked, grinning.
That had accidentally come out during a group session and my brother never let me live it down. The kid couldn’t remember if he’d eaten breakfast, but he remembered that. Fucking figured.
I gave him the finger. “None of your business.”
“Oooh,is it a dick pic?”
