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He must hear the emotion in my voice because he stops tugging on his sweatpants and looks at me. “What?”
“My first kiss was with Liam.”
I regret the words the second they leave my mouth and I instinctively slap my hand over my lips, wanting nothing more than to suck them back in.
Oakley’s expression gives nothing away, and for some reason that only makes me want to elaborate, as if I can somehow fix what I said…even though it’s impossible to undo it.
“He was really upset while talking about our mom and the bullies at school and…” I draw my knees to my chest, attempting to shield myself. “He started saying stuff like how he’ll never get married, or have a girlfriend, or get kissed and I…I don’t know.” My voice cracks as tears blur my vision. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted him to know how much I loved him and try to fix it…but he got so angry with me. So fucking angry.” Bringing my hands up, I try to hide my face, my shame, my grief. “Three days later he killed himself.”
Because I crossed a line I never should have and made things weird between us.
And left him with no one to turn to.
My chest heaves as big, ugly tears roll down my cheeks.
I feel like I just ripped the scab off the deepest of scars and poured salt in the wound.
Making a fist, I punch my head, as if the action alone can quell the revulsion burning through my system. “I’m so disgusting. So. Fucking. Disg—”
Oakley’s hand wraps around my wrist.
And then he’s hauling me into his arms, hugging me so tight it steals all the air from my lungs.
“No, you’re not. Far from it.”
“Then you must not have heard what I said.”
“I heard every fucking word.” He locks my jaw in his hand. “You were just trying to ease his pain.” He frames my face in his hands. “That doesn’t make you disgusting. It makes you a good sister. A good sister who would do anything for someone she loves because underneath that tough, stubborn exterior…she has a huge heart.”
His words only make me cry harder.
Despite my fears about spilling my secrets, Oakley didn’t judge me.
Like always, he accepts my demons.
He runs his fingers up and down my naked back. “What happened between you two that day…it’s not why Liam killed himself.”
He doesn’t get it. “Yes, it is. He didn’t have anyone to talk to.”
Nowhere to turn.
“It’s not why,” Oakley argues. “Liam knew he had people who loved and cared about him. People he could go to.”
He’s wrong. Besides, Oakley didn’t become friends with Jace and Cole until after Liam passed—therefore, he has no right to make any kind of assessment about my brother because he didn’t fucking know him.
Irritation catches the back of my throat and I find myself glaring. “What the fuck makes you think you know anything about why my brother took his life?”
The look he shoots me is like a visceral punch. “My last memory of my mom was her riding some drug dealer for a bag of heroin before she drained my dad’s bank account and took off.” His expression falls. “I used to spend hours every day sitting by the door, wondering what I did wrong and why I wasn’t good enough to make her stay, yet still hoping like hell she’d come back to me…but she never did.” Sorrow floods his face. “She never will.”
And just like that, my heart stops cold.
“It’s her loss, Oakley. You know that, right?”
The selfish woman who walked out on her little boy missed watching him grow up to become an incredible man.
“Maybe.” The intensity of his gaze sears my soul. “Point is, I’ve been where Liam was, desperately searching for something to make it hurt a little less—and even though I know I can always turn to my dad, along with Jace, Cole, and Dylan…I don’t. Because someone else’s love will never be enough to get rid of your pain when you can’t manage to love yourself.” The tip of his thumb brushes the edge of my lip. “Liam didn’t die because of anything you did, baby girl. He’s gone because he couldn’t see past all the torment he held inside.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “But he wouldn’t want the people he loved—especially his baby sister—spending the rest of her life blaming herself for something that wasn’t her fault.”
With that, he gets off the bed.
As much clarity as Oakley’s given me just now, it also fills me with a deep sense of sadness.
Because, he too, is one of the broken people.
Just like Liam…
Just like me.
“So how do you cope?” I ask as I watch him put on his clothes. “If you won’t turn to your dad or your friends, how do you—”
“Drugs.” My heart caves in as he grabs his keys and ambles toward the door. “Addicts are people who are trying to numb the pain, too. Only difference is, they aren’t dead…yet.”