“The box is falling apart. I didn’t think you’d appreciate me leaving a trail of your photos on the sidewalk,” he replies, taking a sip of coffee. “I’ll get it for you when we leave here.”
I open my mouth to tell him that the box wouldn’t be falling apart if he had put it in a new box when he said he would mail it to me, but a shadow falls over the table and I glance up, blinking to make sure I’m not seeing things.
“Jamie?” I stand automatically to give my brother a hug, asking quietly, “What are you doing here?”
“I’ll explain later.” He kisses my forehead then glowers at Troy while moving a chair from another table, placing it with the back to the table between Troy and me before straddling it.
“How have you been, Jamie?” Troy asks with a hint of nervousness in his tone as he eyes my brother, who I have to admit looks intimidating. Not just because he’s much larger than Troy. His leather jacket, shredded jeans, and heavy-looking black boots would make any normal person cower if faced with him.
“Been good, Troy. How have you been?”
“All right.” He looks between Jamie and me. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“Funny, I didn’t think you’d be here either.” Jamie glances at me with a look that says I’m in trouble. “Last I heard, you were going to mail my sister her shit.”
“I was going to,” he agrees then clears his throat. “I just know how important the box is to her and wanted to make sure she got it.”
“It’s really nice of you to look after her like that, especially since you didn’t seem to give a fuck how she would feel when you slept with someone else after your ring was on her finger.”
“Jamie,” I hiss.
He turns to glare at me. “Where’s your box?”
“Jamie,” I repeat, softer this time, knowing his temper and how quickly this could escalate.
He turns to look at my ex once more. “Where is her box, Troy?”
“It’s in my car.”
“Why don’t you do me a favor and go get it,” he suggests, and Troy stands without another word and heads across the room to the door.
After I see him exit, I look at my brother, finding him watching me. “Was that necessary?”
“You said you would tell me if he asked to meet up with you, Dakota. What the fuck?”
“Who told you I would be here?” I ask, and his eyes narrow.
“That’s a whole other conversation we need to have. Why the fuck haven’t you told me about the guy you’re seeing?”
“Oh my God, I’m seriously going to kill him.” I squeeze my eyes closed and rub my forehead. “I can’t believe he called my brother, especially after our conversation last night. What the hell is wrong with him?”
“He’s obviously worried about you,” Jamie says, and my eyes open just enough to glare at him.
“Do not even think about taking his side on this, Jamie. You don’t know him. You don’t know the things he’s done.”
“Unlike you, Dakota, he talked to me, so yeah I do know.”
“He told you he stole my digital information?”
“If that’s your e-mail and shit, then yeah, he told me,” he replies, not seeming concerned at all by the fact that Braxton has basically come into my life and stomped all over it. Then again, he doesn’t know anything but what Braxton has told him. “I like him,” he mutters, and I blink in disbelief.
“You like him?”
“Yeah. I like him.”
“You don’t know him!” I screech then take a few deep breaths, hoping to calm myself down before I cause a scene. I thought I might have finally gotten through to Braxton. I thought maybe, just maybe, me hanging up on him and not calling him back or returning his texts or e-mails this morning might have worked to make him realize he can’t just take over anytime he wants to get his way. I guess I was wrong, and I also now know he has no limits. He will do whatever is necessary to get his way, including getting my brother on his side. My brother who has never liked any man I’ve ever dated.
“We’ll talk after you get your shit,” Jamie says, placing his hands over mine on the table, and I focus on him then jump slightly when my box is dropped before me, causing the table to shake.
I look from the box to Troy and can tell he wants to say something, but because of Jamie, he’s unsure how to proceed. He runs a hand through his hair with his eyes locked on mine, and the look he gives me is filled with regret and sadness—two emotions that shouldn’t make me feel sorry for him but still do.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs just as softly, and those old feelings I used to have for him come to the surface. I don’t want him; I don’t even like him anymore, but a part of me still cares about him and is disappointed he wasn’t who I thought he was.
“I know. Me too,” I agree with my throat tight, and he nods once before he turns around and leaves. I watch him go then duck my head, unwilling to allow the tears I feel burning the back of my throat to fill my eyes. I never got closure when it came to him. I never had a chance to ask him why he did what he did. One day, we were together, and I thought I was happy. Then the next, things between us were over and our lives were forever changed. I don’t know if things would have lasted between us if he hadn’t cheated, and I think that’s one of the hardest things for me to come to terms with. It’s always easy to hate someone when they have wronged you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t still care about them, even if you shouldn’t.
“Dakota.” Jamie touches my arm, and I yell at myself to pull it together before I lift my head to look at him. “Shit. Fuck, I’m sorry, sis,” he whispers, and my shoulders shake as the pain in my chest expands.
I don’t remember the last time I cried, but with everything that has been going on, I can’t hold back the tears no matter how hard I try.
“I’m okay.” I try to breathe, to attempt to get myself together, but the stupid tears continue to fall.
“Come on. Let’s get you back home.” Jamie stands, taking my box that is falling apart at the seams, and puts it under his arm before taking my hand and pulling me up. I stand with him then burrow into his side when he wraps his arm around me.
We walk down the block to my building with tears still falling from my eyes. Once we get inside, he leads us to the elevator, and then I let us into my apartment and head right for the couch, while Jamie goes to the kitchen. I listen to him fill my tea kettle, and then a few minutes later, he comes over to me with a cup of my favorite tea, setting it on the coffee table before sitting and placing my feet on his lap.
“I really fucking hate you’re upset over that piece of shit,” he mutters, slipping the blanket from the back of the couch to rest it over me.
“I’m not upset about him. Or it’s not all about him,” I say while leaning forward to grab the box of Kleenex from the table, tugging a couple out before lying back down and dabbing my eyes that have finally stopped leaking.
“Is it about Braxton?”
“Some.” I swallow, not even sure myself. “I think it’s everything—not getting closure with Troy, moving in to my own place, my job, my relationship with Braxton, and how there are times I want nothing more than to dive into things with him head-first, and others when he does stuff that makes me question if I should.”