The Charlotte Chronicles (Jackson Boys 1)

Unknowns? “What’re you saying?” I ask sharply. “She’s going to be okay, right?” I thought after they took the tumor out of her head, it was all good. “The radiation is just precautionary, right?”

Her smile is a little watery. “We hope so, Nathan. We hope so.” She pulls me in for a hug. “Be patient with her, will you?”

I nod. I can be patient. I can. She releases me. A nurse catches her attention and Aunt AnnMarie follows her to the nurses’ station, and I take the opportunity to head back to Charlotte’s room. The bathroom door is still closed. I decide to employ some of that patience and drop into the armchair next to the empty hospital bed. My forbearance is rewarded when a second later the bathroom door flies open and out walks Nick and Charlotte, looking like two freshly shorn lambs. I cast Nick a dark look and he slides behind Charlotte, all six-foot-two of him.

“See, told ya he’d be pissed.”

“I’m not pissed.” Rising up, I position Charlotte directly in front of me and pretend to examine her carefully. I don’t really care what Charlotte looks like without hair. She could be bald for the rest of her life and she’d still be the prettiest girl around, but I figure out pretty quick that she’s not going to believe that. I draw a finger down the middle of her face, from the top of her forehead to the tip of her chin. Then I bisect that imaginary vertical line with a horizontal one. I trace another line from her eyes to the sides of her mouth.

“What’d you learn in biology about symmetry, Charlotte?” I ask her. My voice is a little husky, and her eyes widen. She’s trembling a bit under my hand. Something is building again inside of me, but it’s not anger. It’s an emotion of another kind—one that is stronger, more compelling, and so wrong. I push it down, but this time I can’t replace it with anger like I usually do because I don’t want to hurt Charlotte anymore. I know the past year I’ve done nothing but harp on her. My surly attitude isn’t something I completely understand. One day she’s my little Charlotte, and the next day she’s wearing a tiny white bikini and waving her ass in the air. She makes me feel things I shouldn’t feel toward her, and I’ve reacted badly. I push that all aside. This isn’t about me.

“That nature loves symmetry.”

“Right.” She’s caught on quickly. “Your face is pretty damn symmetrical. You’re the type who’s gonna look good with long hair, short hair, and no hair.”

Her lips are shaking a bit, and she presses them tight to hold back her tears but a couple slip out of her eyes anyway. I swipe them away with my thumbs, but I see comprehension behind the surface sheen of tears. As a wide, beautiful smile spreads across her face, all my good brotherly intentions flee. The thing I’ve spent the last year or so trying to ignore springs up between us so tangible that she senses it.

Her mouth opens in wonder, and my whole body reacts as if she’s issued an invitation—one that I can’t turn away from. I forget where we are, who’s in the room with us and with deliberate intent lower my head toward hers.

Until Nick slaps me on the back. “Smooth, big brother. Very nice.”

Nick’s words make my actions look like a joke, and the glow in Charlotte’s eyes turns from appreciation to bleakness in an instant. I reach over and cuff Nick harder than he expected.

“Ow, goddammit, that hurt.” Nick rubs the back of his head, but it’s too late. No amount of head slaps is going to bring confidence back into Charlotte’s eyes tonight.

* * *

I wait until Nick is done with the last rep of his leg extensions before confronting him.

“What was that all about with Charlotte today?”

Nick shoots me a look but says nothing. Ignoring me, he climbs off the machine and wipes it down before heading for the free weights. I follow. “If you’ve got something up your ass, just spit it out instead of stewing about it.”

“What do you care?” He picks up a twenty-five-pound barbell and starts doing biceps curls. When I pick up the thirty-pound weights, Nick just rolls his eyes.

“Seriously? You’re giving me crap over the fact I can lift more than you?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles.

I set the barbells onto the rack and pull Nick on the shoulder so he will stop and talk to me. “Nick, what’s wrong?”

For a moment, I think he might shrug me off. Then he releases a huge sigh and places his weights next to mine. Leaning down, he picks up his discarded towel and walks over to the water cooler. I trail behind, waiting impatiently for him to spill it.