These Thorn Kisses (St. Mary’s Rebels 3)

I’m stunned.

I’m… I’m not really sure what to say, except, “I didn’t… know I was that transparent.”

“Not to others, no. But to me, yeah.”

I’m transparent to my little brother.

Me.

The guy who brought him up.

How is that… I can’t even compute that so maybe that’s why I say this: “Maybe it is Helen.”

He howls with laughter and I’m not going to lie, it pisses me off a little.

“Helen? Yeah, right.” He laughs again as he continues, “She’s married. You wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole. Because you know what cheating does to a home. You’ve seen our father. You’re the man who wouldn’t even touch hard liquor because our dad was an alcoholic” – he shoots a pointed look at the bottle I’m holding – “well, except for when the situation is extremely dire. I’ve never seen you hungover or drunk. You’re too good, too moral for it. So no, it’s not Helen. And I’m very fucking happy about that.”

He is right. At least about one thing.

About me not doing what my father did: cheat and drink.

I don’t drink hard liquor except for when the situation is extremely dire. And everything has been extremely dire ever since I started at St. Mary’s.

So have I underestimated him then, Stellan? Like I’ve underestimated so many others.

He’s always been the most mature and aware of my brothers. And yes, that’s the reason why I’ve always felt comfortable leaving him in charge of things. But he’s still my younger brother and I’ve shielded him from things, protected him like the rest of them.

But I didn’t know that he noticed things.

That he was more attuned to his surroundings than I thought.

“It’s not Helen’s fault,” I find myself saying, confiding. “We just never got the chance to be happy. I was a shitty boyfriend to begin with. I never had much time for her. I made promises to her but I broke all of them. I made her wait. I made her hope. So the fault is mine.”

It is.

Along with making myself dream, I made her dream too.

Of a better life. A better relationship.

I should’ve known.

I should’ve known not to.

“Fuck no,” Stellan emphasizes. “It’s not your fault. So maybe you didn’t have time for her. But it wasn’t by choice. What happened wasn’t by your choice. You didn’t want to be responsible for us. You didn’t want Mom to get cancer. But what Helen did, she did it by her own fucking choice. She broke up with you when you were at the lowest point of your life. When you needed her the most. So fuck her, all right?”

I shake my head. “I couldn’t have asked her to walk with me on this path. I was dragging her down and she did what was right for her. My pro career was over before it ever began. She came from a filthy rich family. They never would’ve gone for me. So I can’t blame her for looking out for herself.”

And neither did I blame her for getting married to that guy.

Because the truth is that we’d moved on.

I had — have — a life as small and as boring as it may seem. A job, responsibilities. Yes, I haven’t strictly dated anyone but I’ve been with women. I’m not a fucking monk. If over the years I’ve wanted company, I’ve sought it out. It wasn’t as if I was waiting for her or pining for her.

So no, I do not blame her.

Both for moving on and for wanting to look back.

Because I’ve wanted that too.

But no. I don’t ever cheat and I’m not going to break this rule for anyone. Not even Helen.

“But I can,” Stellan responds with clenched teeth. “For not choosing you. For not loving you the way you deserve. A woman who loves you, Con, doesn’t leave you out in the cold. She walks with you in the snow and on thin ice if need be. And if this new one can —"

“This new one is fucking eighteen years old,” I snap out.

Stellan pauses for a second. Then, “What?”

I grind my jaw. “She goes to St. Mary’s.”

I’m not looking at him but I know he’s looking at me. I know that his mouth has fallen open and he’s staring at me in shock as he breathes, “Holy fuck.”

Yeah, holy fuck is right.

Even so, it doesn’t capture the depth of wrongness, the depth of the crime that I’ve committed.

And the reason for that is that it doesn’t feel like one.

It doesn’t feel like a crime.

It doesn’t feel wrong. The fact that I’ve been thinking about her all day. I’ve been smelling her all over the house. I’ve been staring at that spot of blood on my sheets. I’ve been fucking jacking off to her.

That’s what I did all day today before my brothers got here.

I jacked off to that red stain on my bed.