Southern Storm (Southern 3)

“I can’t give you those answers,” he told me, and all I could do was hang my head. “There is only one person who can give you that, and you know it.”

“She lied to me.” I wasn’t even sure if I was asking him or telling him. All I knew was that it hurt. It hurt all through my bones.

“You have to give her a chance to explain,” Kallie said quietly. “I didn’t give Jacob a chance, and I lost eight years. Don’t do that.” I dropped my head back on the chair and closed my eyes. The only thing that played over and over again was the look in her eyes when I told her she wasn’t worth it. Even mad, I knew that wasn’t the truth. She was worth it all, and she deserved to have it all. “We can take you to her.”

I blew out a long breath. “She’s going to kick me in the balls and tell me to go fuck myself.” I got up and had to hold onto the desk when the room started spinning.

“She’s going to kick you in the balls whether you go there now or you go there tomorrow,” Jacob said. Leaning forward, he folded his hands in front of him. “You don’t want her to go to bed remembering the last words you said.”

“Can you take me to her?” I asked.

And now, here I am, standing in the middle of her living room.

“Don’t cry,” I say, not moving for fear she’ll let me go.

“I never wanted you to find out like this,” she whispers and sniffles. I want to sit down and have her tell me the whole story. “I never ever wanted you to know.”

“Stop crying, please,” I say, and she slowly peels her arms from around my neck.

“Sit down,” she says, and then she steps back. I watch her walk into her kitchen and go straight for her secret stash of whiskey. I know she doesn’t like whiskey, but she bought it for when I come hang out.

“I don’t want anything to drink,” I say, putting up my hand. She looks so beautiful and tiny. Her brown hair perfectly curled even though I know she hates when it’s all done up. She likes it straight and up on her head. Her blue eyes look darker in the dim light than if we were in the sun.

“It’s not for you,” she says, unscrewing the brown cap and grabbing a glass. She pours the amber liquid into the glass and takes the shot, wincing and coughing after. “I don’t know how you drink this.” I want to laugh, but all I can do is watch her. She takes another shot as I sit on the couch. Bringing the bottle and the glass with her over to the couch, she sits on the couch facing me and then sets the bottle down and the glass beside it. She pours more into the glass and looks at me. “Liquid courage.”

“Before you start, I want you to know that I didn’t mean it,” I say, having to get it off my chest. Secretly, I want to tell her she is worth everything. She shakes her head, and I watch as the tears fall from her eyes, and it takes all my strength not to get up and go to her. To reach over and wipe her tears from her eyes while I tell her that nothing will change how I feel for her and nothing will ever come between us. But instead, I remain sitting, holding my breath as I wait for her to tell me the story. She looks up at me, and when I see the tears running down her face, I have this fear that my brother did something that I might have to kill him for. If he forced himself on her, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.

“I think the best thing is to start at the beginning.” She looks down and then up. “I’ve never told anyone this story.” I wonder why she never told Jacob. I want to know why she kept this from me for so long. “I started working at the country club around the same time Liam came home for the summer.” She takes the glass in her hand, and this time, she just takes a sip.

“He was his normal arrogant and obnoxious self.” She is not wrong with her description of my brother. From as far back as I can remember, my brother was a … Well, he’s a bastard. He always had to win, and he wasn’t opposed to cheating to ensure he won. I can count on one hand the times he won fair and square at anything, and then I’d need an army to count all the times he cheated to win. He wanted to be the perfect son in my father’s eyes, so he would do whatever was necessary for Father’s attention, whereas I couldn’t give a fuck. I just did my thing.