Page 26 of Sweet Oblivion

“I bet you’re right.” We walked in silence but from the corner of my eye, I saw Aya searching my face. “What were you thinking about in the hall? That day you fought with Lord?”

I blew out a breath before I answered her with a partial truth. “My brother.”

She blinked at me. “Lev,” she murmured.

I wasn’t surprised she remembered. Aya was like that—able to remember all the important details I shared, and many of the unimportant ones, too.

“Was he younger or older?” she asked.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, justifying my telling her because everyone else already knew the sordid truth.

“He was a year and a half older.” I blinked back the burning sensation.

“What happened?” she asked, tears already swimming in her eyes.

“He died.” The words, even though years had passed now, hurt to speak.

“I know that. How?”

I continued to walk, my Chucks pattering across the straight, perfect sidewalk. I’d never told the whole story, never shared the details with anyone. Never intended to.

“My parents were fighting.” The words tumbled from my mouth, desperate to break free from the prison I’d shoved them into as soon as I realized Lev wasn’t going to wake up.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Aya said, her voice soft.

I felt her palm slip into place against mine, felt her fingers squeeze.

“I’ve never told anyone,” I said.

Her eyes held patience and understanding. “I kind of figured that.”

I turned and stared straight ahead, trying not to enjoy the feel of Aya’s hand in mine, the warmth of her body radiating against my arm. I tried to ignore the soft brush of her hair, the sweet scent that emanated from her body.

I failed.

I inhaled hard. Did I want to talk about this?

No way.

Was I going to?

Apparently.

“My brother caught my dad with a groupie—at our house. That was the beginning of the end of their relationship. When Lev’s anger started spiraling…he was a mess. Anyway, Mom put Lev in therapy. And I guess the therapist told her about Dad having sex with women in our house.”

Aya leaned in closer. Her luscious tit pressed against my biceps. That felt good. She felt good. Perfect, really. That’s what allowed me to continue.

“Your mother is a beautiful woman. What more could your father want?”

I shrugged, immediately regretting the action because it bumped Aya’s soft flesh away from me.

“I don’t know. Mom used to be so fun, so present, but even before Lev died, when he was so angry and acting out, everything just kind of fell apart. Now? She’s…empty. And a drunk—high most of the time. Maybe Dad wants a woman who can have an actual conversation, not just an ornament.”

Aya made a squeaky noise but managed to keep her mouth shut.

My father knew the Carolina of my youth was gone. Maybe he had known it for years and just didn’t care. Or—and this worried me more—Dad cared too much to sever the link, which was why they kept spiraling back into alcoholism and loud fights and the pain of losing Lev.

“We’d just come back from touring with my dad. Lev wanted to get out of the house, get away from their constant fighting. He said he’d heard them—it had something to do with us.” With me.

---