Scars Like Ours | Red View Romance #2

🐈 Forty One

Fritters brushed up against Cliff's legs, weaving in and out as he stood at the sink washing dishes. The sounds of chatter and laughter from his family drifted in from the dining room where they all still sat, enjoying after-dinner conversation. He'd offered to be on dish duty again, mostly as an excuse to get out of there. He didn't deserve to be included, and knowing it only made him feel sick every time he was around them.

He still hadn't told them the truth. Every time he considered it, his mind went racing back to how poorly he'd handled things with Annie. When he came clean about everything there'd be no turning back. They'd want him gone, same as she did. He'd be back on his own, only this time, without the promise of a home to run back to.

Fritters' quiet meow speared his heart with a little guilt--he wouldn't be completely alone. Just as he turned off the sink and reached down to pet him, the dining room door opened and Fritters hurried away over to Jack. Annoyed, childish jealousy bit at Cliff, had him straightening and rolling his shoulders. So much for his loyal companion.

Jack bent down to give the animal a quick scratch behind the ears before standing back up, arms crossing as he walked to Cliff. He'd been horseback riding with Annie this morning for her birthday, which was only a few days away. Listening to him talk about it at the dinner table gave Cliff a nauseating dose of green-faced despair. That should have been him. He should have been planning a fancy dinner, hiding an expensive paint set or a fancy new camera lens in his bedroom out of her sight. An engagement ring, he thought painfully.

He couldn't ask Jack how Annie was--it would only bring questions. But he didn't know what else to say, especially since his brother had been giving him icy looks and an even colder shoulder since he'd gotten back from the livery.

She told him. She must have. And he didn't blame her for a second. The question was, how much did she say? What exactly did Jack know?

"You've taken dish duty every night this week," Jack observed, leaning against the counter by the sink.

Cliff shrugged. It was hard to act casual when his heart was pounding. He could see it in Jack's eyes that he knew, hear it in his voice. Now that they were alone, he was liable to do something about it. "I don't mind it."

"If this is how you're atoning for your sins, you should know it's not nearly good enough." Jack met his eyes evenly. "If what Annie told me today is true, that is."

Cliff cleared his throat and turned the sink back on, reaching for the scrubbing brush and a plate. "Depends what she told you."

Jack leaned over and jerked the faucet back off. "Damn it, Cliff. Look at me." When he did, he saw nothing but burning contempt in his brother's dark eyes. "She told me you took her to bed and broke up with her the next morning. I don't want to believe that, but I also know Annie's not a liar, so I'm thinking you better have a good explanation for what she said."

Anger grabbed his heart in a fiery hold. What business was it of Jack's? "And what the hell does it matter to you?"

"You're my brother. Annie's my friend."

"Your friend?" Cliff questioned, tossing the plate in the sink with a loud bang. "Is that all?"

Jack's eyes rolled behind his lenses, arms crossing. "Don't make an even bigger ass out of yourself, Cliff."

"I doubt that's possible," he spat, "given that what she told you is true. So go ahead, kick my ass. Be the hero."

"You're begging for someone to do it." Jack straightened, and for a moment Cliff actually expected him to pounce. His brother, who'd never gotten in a fight in his life. Who Dawson would secretly fight bullies for back when they were teenagers, because lord knew Jack was never going to do it. "Why, Cliff? Why'd you do it?"