Lose Control (The Jewel Project #5)

6.1|| Much Needed Escape

A soft touch on his forehead had Sam's eyelids fluttering open. His head swam, his body felt numb, and he had no idea why he'd ended up looking at Angie's upside down face.

"Hey," she whispered with a smile.

"Hey," he whispered back, not sure what was going on or why she was there.

"I need to get to school, but I made you guys some pancakes."

You guys... He blinked again and realized he was on Tom's couch, wearing his t-shirt and his shorts. Tom was on the floor, still wearing his jeans and t-shirt, a pillow under his head, sleeping. The TV was off and the playstation lay a few feet away from the couch.

And avalanche of pain toppled over Sam and he winced. They'd played video games until he'd passed out, but now that he was awake, he remembered why he'd done it in the first place.

Christine. Christine and Harry. He was pretty sure his heart was bleeding out on the inside. His throat clogged and his eyes stung.

Angie moved away from him, leaned over, and planted a kiss on Tom's forehead. He groaned and turned over. She giggled and her attention turned back to Sam, clearly unaware of the torment inside him.

"Just ask him to pick me up from college," she said, picking up her backpack. She wore a skirt and shirt, looking formal, like a serious law student. Her trainers ruined the effect a little, but he didn't see the point to mention it.

She left without waiting for Sam to answer or say goodbye. Not that he could. His jaw was clenched so tightly, it hurt. All he wanted was to pass out again and not have to think or feel. But once he closed his eyes, all he could see was Christine and Harry kissing.

He growled and stood from the couch, but he had no idea what to do with himself. His hands balled into fists and he just wanted to throw something, punch something. Or go to Christine and yell at her.

Yes, that seemed like a good idea. He just needed to put on some proper pants... He tripped over Tom as he made his way towards the bedroom and knocked him against the coffee table.

"Sore loser," Tom grumbled, sitting up.

Sam froze. "What?"

"You don't have to hit me while I'm down just because I kicked your ass at video games."

Sam just stared at his twin, at the grin on his face and realized Tom was still trying to make him smile, get his mind off what had happened. Once the darkness had gone, it seemed much harder to hide and ignore.

"Damn," Tom mumbled, getting to his feet and stretching. "I hoped you'd be better."

Sam shook his head, but had no idea what else to say. His head was pounding and anger was slowly creeping through his veins, fortunately smothering the pain. He wanted to keep that, not curl into a ball and cry until he fainted.

"I understand, Sam," Tom said quietly. "I'd be going out of my mind if I were you. But you're fortunately not me. You are a lot more rational and--"

"I don't want to be rational!"

Tom flinched, but he'd already opened the gates of hell.

"I'm so sick of being the good guy, the one catering to everyone's feelings!" Tears filled his eyes, but damn them and everything else. "Look where it got me!"

"Your personality didn't get you here, Sam," Tom growled. "That fake bitch did. All this is about her issues, not yours."

Somewhere deep inside, Sam saw some truth in his brother's words, but they seemed so unimportant. It not being his fault didn't make the pain go away, didn't make him feel less empty. Because it was his fault, too. It took two to tango and he'd messed up the steps and trampled all over Christine's feet.