The Locket (20 page)

“Did you know my parents?” I asked bluntly.

Reese thought about my question for a moment. “I met your dad a few times as a kid. I think he went to school with my mom or something.”

Just say it.

“Yes, that’s true, but it seems they were a little more than classmates at one point,” I hinted, raising my eyebrows hoping he would figure it out so I didn’t actually have to say it.

“I’m not following you here, Claire,” he admitted, confusion flashing across his face.

Just say it.

“My parents were separated for a time when your mom and dad were dating. My dad stayed in the apartment above your grandparent’s store. Your mom and my dad were friends, and one night they…”

Reese interrupted. “Don’t even say they hooked up, Claire. That’s gross.” He scrunched up his face like a little boy watching a couple kiss in a movie.

Just say it.

“Reese, can you be mature for like five minutes so we can get through this conversation?” I scolded, having a hard enough time with getting the words out. How was I
supposed to tell him that the man he called
dad,
his entire life, was not his real father. “Reese, you were born nine months later.” I just spit it out, unable to think of any delicate way to announce it.

He frowned and started tapping his foot on the bench next to where I was sitting. “What? That’s a lie. No, my mom and dad were married when I was born. You’re mistaken. That can’t be true!”

“Difficult as it is to hear, it’s true, Reese…our parents shared a night together. We are brother and sister. The Agents missed our relation when they decided you were my Paramour. They only saw the strength of our connection, not the reason for it. After you met with Kace, and things started changing, they looked into it. From the beginning, you should have been my Aegis. Brent was always my Paramour.”

Reese looked like I just kicked him in the shins, and in a way, I had. He was sullen, silently processing what I laid out before him. Tears filled his eyes, glossing over his grey stare. He blinked and the drops streaked down each side of his pained face. My heart ached for him and his loss.

“I am so sorry, Reese. I know this is so much to think about. It seems like things are really messed up but I’ve witnessed how it works out. It’s going to be okay,” I assured him, placing my palm gently on his knee, trying to offer some sort of affection to my brother.

“How can you say that?” Reese snapped, pushing my hand away. “My mom cheated on my dad…um Dave…Jesus, Claire. He’s the best man I’ve ever known.” The tears were cascading down his cheeks as though the ducts were an open dam to his heart.

“He’s still your dad, Reese,” I said reassuringly, biting back the anger I felt towards my father for his involvement.

He glared at me. His grey eyes, looking like a thin layer of ice in the winter, chilled me.

“How could she have done that to my father?”

Borrowing words from my mother, I answered. “I don’t know, Reese. I think it’s the way it was meant to be. It happened for a reason.”

“That’s a load of crap, Claire.” Reese’s shock was replaced with fury.

“I didn’t finish. The reason…is me,” I said, my voice breaking, holding back tears. I wanted to be strong for him.

“I don’t care what the reason is. My dad worships my mom, Claire. Jesus, you should see them together. She’s his greatest prize. He’s living a lie, don’t you see that? My life is one big lie…my dad…my purpose…you.”

“Don’t say that Reese, please,” I implored, not wanting him to believe what he was saying.

“Look, I am not mad at you Claire. I just need some time to deal with all of this,” he said, sounding more like the young man he was, and less like the impulsive teenager that both amused and annoyed me. He jumped from the picnic table, his shoulders were slumped and his head hung low as he shuffled back to the Audi, ending the conversation. Deciding it was best to give him some time and space – rather than push him to accept things – I followed him far behind, back to the car.

You can cut the tension with a knife
was precisely the feeling in the car as we coasted down the highway. Reese was impassive but stoic, his ear buds firmly in place. He hadn’t moved even to reposition himself. My mouth formed a small curve as I noted his pursed lips. He was my brother, all right.

The black stained sky opened up. Rain streamed down the window with force, and the wipers struggled to keep up. Drops pounded rhythmically onto the roof of the Audi, beating like the sound of a drum. The loud growing boom of thunder briefly muffled the sound of the rain and brilliant blue lightning streaked across the sky in front of us. Thunderstorms were slightly terrifying to me so I was thankful when Brent pulled off the highway somewhere in Connecticut.

We found a hotel that offered suites designed for extended visits, although I knew we wouldn’t be staying long. Brent left the car idling, and told us to wait while he checked in.

The silence between Reese and I was maddening. It was the same silence that was also deafening, because my brain refused to stop racing, thinking about the current situation and the eventual outcome. It wasn’t the first time I had felt this way. But never had I had such an ache in my heart. Previous despondency almost always involved someone I didn’t know very well. Silence this uncomfortable was purposely brought on by accident. For example, sitting down next to a stranger on the bus that frowns at you brings on the awkwardness. You know you’re invading their personal space, but you ride it out anyway, afraid to move, assuming you might offend the person if you did. Relief would come eventually, when one of you reached your stop.

Would Reese and I ever be able reach our stop and move forward?

Reese looked intently out the window, making no effort to acknowledge that I was sitting so close. His jaw was tight –the frustration gathered across his brow, reminding me so much of our father. I wanted to say something to break the tension, something meaningful, but instead, opted for something insignificant. “The drive was nice, wasn’t it? The leaves are so pretty when they first start to change.”

“Really Claire, you want to talk about trees?”

Good one, Claire. Why didn’t you just keep your trap shut?

Quieting my know-it-all subconscious, I continued. “Not really. I just couldn’t stand you not saying anything”

“Yeah, well, get used to it,” he mocked, shutting me down.

But I wasn’t about to give up. “Come on Reese, you have to talk to me eventually.” I bit my lip, anticipating his sharp reply.

He leaned forward between the seats to get attention. His icy stare gave me goose bumps.

“You’re right. Eventually I might, but right now I have nothing to say that’s not cruel, so I’ll just keep my mouth shut!” He was so cross and my feelings were hurt.

“Fine,” I muttered, defeated.

“Fine,” he muttered back.

“Good,” I taunted.

“Good,” he scoffed.

We were definitely related.

The hotel room was a two-bedroom suite with a living area and a small kitchen. Reese sat on the small sofa and turned on the TV. He still wasn’t speaking to me, but the urge to make things right was so strong that I asked him again if he was okay. He nodded but continued his cold-shoulder routine. I decided after our brief conversation in the car that I should leave him alone. There was nothing worse than having someone ask you over and over if you were okay. Brent took my bag, disappearing into one of the bedrooms. Come to think of it, he hadn’t said much to me either. I guessed this had been a difficult day for all of us.

My mind continued mulling over a way make everything right with Reese, though I knew I should probably put a lid on my efforts. Before finding the words, Reese stood up and clicked the remote, turning off the TV.

“I’m going to bed.” He let the remote fall to the sofa and entered his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Brent’s arms wrapped around my waist from behind and he kissed the top of my head. “He’ll be okay, Claire. Just give it time. We should sleep, too. It’s been a long day for all of us and it’s almost midnight,” he said, guiding me to our room.

I decided to take a shower before I called it a night, needing to wash the day away, hoping all of the hurt and pain it brought would run down the drain, forgotten. Warm water cascaded over me as I sat on the bottom of the tub, hugging my knees to my body. The hot water eased my aches, and the smell of jasmine in my shampoo was like therapy.

Feeling much better, all clean and in my comfy pajamas, I came back into the room. Brent was wearing boxers and his t-shirt. He smiled when he saw me.

“Better?” he asked in a warm tone.

“Better,” I mumbled, climbing on the bed.

When Brent sat on the bed, I breathed in his familiar scent. He smiled at me, and I had to look away so he wouldn’t see how my cheeks were coloring.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, tucking a tuft of wet hair behind my ear. I never thought I was beautiful, but when I was with him, he made me believe it. He smoothed my bottom lip with his thumb and heat filled my body, cheek to toe. His lips curved paradisiacally, making me melt. It was pure bliss. “I have a gift for you, too,” he smiled.

That surprised me. “What, Brent, you didn’t have to do that.” I felt like I had everything I ever needed already, receiving him as a gift.

He smiled affectionately, biting down on his bottom lip. “I don’t do anything because I have to, Claire.” His eyes were warm and the meanings of his words were clear. He was with me, not because it was our design or stamp or fate that brought us together. It was because he wanted to be.

Brent produced a small velvet box from under the pillow. He must have placed it there when I was in the shower. He placed the indigo-colored box in my hand. The deep blue reminded me of his eyes, when they filled with desire. I felt a soft flutter in my heart as I accepted it. Opening the box, I gasped.

“It’s beautiful, Brent,” I gushed. With trembling fingers, I pulled a stunning silver locket from the box.

He threaded his fingers through my wet hair and cupped the back of my head, massaging it tenderly. “I thought it fitting.”

I smiled shyly. It was gorgeous. The locket was muted silver with two angel wings that folded over the front, meeting in the center. As I turned it over, happy tears welled in my eyes, waiting to spill. I read the inscription,
For your heart, B
. I smoothed my thumb over the fine edges of the engraving.

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” I purred, glowing in his thoughtfulness.

He winked, his blue eyes gleaming. “Not yet, open it,” he instructed, turning the locket face up.

The locket opened in the middle, splitting the wings. As I folded over each wing, I was in awe with what he had done for me. There was a single photo of my parents on their wedding day, the same one I kept in a frame. Tears I had been fighting back, slid joyfully down my cheeks, thankful for the warmhearted gift.

“I love it,” I cried, hugging Brent close. He did this for me before he knew we would be together, when he believed Reese to be my Paramour. It was an act of unconditional love, and consequences didn’t matter. He loved me and wanted to show it, no matter what would change. Lifting up my hair, I had Brent clasp the silver chain behind my neck and the pendant dangled on my chest.

“Now, always here,” he said, adjusting the pendent, then placing a palm over my heart, his touch sending tingles through me.

Brent softly kissed the corner of my mouth, then moved slowly to my cheek and neck, leaving a trail of kisses. I wound my fingers around the back of his head and pulled him close. When he lowered me to the bed, my breath hitched. He slowly dragged his index finger down, starting between my brow, on top of my nose, across my lips and over my chin, stopping briefly to kiss my neck again. His finger continued trailing down my chest, coming to rest on my belly. I was out of breath, and felt throbbing between my thighs in places I had never felt before. Brent slid his hand around my back and rolled me on my side to face him. He continued kissing my neck, up to my chin, then rested his forehead on mine.

“I love you, Claire Blake. I think I’ve always loved you,” he professed.

My lips trembled and I licked them. “I love you too, Brent.”

Brent continued to gaze lovingly at me, his blue eyes to my green, blending like tropical waters. His hand still rested on my back and I felt the warmth beneath it. Slowly he slid his fingers upwards, under the bottom of my pajama-shirt, up my bare back, through the top of my shirt, squeezing firmly behind my neck and then back down. I thought I might explode. I swung my leg over his. My hips started to grind into him as though they had a mind of their own, matching his movements and I arched into him. He continued caressing my neck, kissing me softly. I whimpered when he brought his hand to my hip and across my belly. He groaned quietly and gently continued exploring my body with his hands. He gripped the back of my head firmly and pulled me close to him. Less than an inch separated our lips. I saw love in his eyes. I could feel it. I believed it. I exhaled softly and squeezed his shoulders tightly.

He took my mouth in his, and I parted my lips, wanting to feel the warmth inside of him. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth.
Oh my.
It felt amazing and I craved more of it. He shifted the two of us so he was on top of me again. Putting his elbows on each side of me, he supported his weight and allowed me to catch my breath. Feeling brave, I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled his body close. He brushed some wet strands of hair away from my cheeks and kissed my forehead.

“God, I love you,” he exhaled breathlessly.

Giggling shyly, I put both my hands behind his head, tugging him to me, meeting his mouth, urging him to kiss me again. Our tongues met, sweeping and stroking, absorbing each other’s warmth, his scent intoxicating. I continued, thirsting for him.

I had heard high school girls talk about being with their boyfriend this way, but their stories were nothing like what I was experiencing with Brent. They always talked about how awkward and self-conscious they felt, and how their boyfriends were inattentive and clumsy. Brent was neither. He was passionate, knowing exactly how to move and what to say. I didn’t feel awkward. I felt beautiful and precious, our bodies colliding so naturally. Everything about being with him felt perfect. The more we moved, the braver I became. I dug my fingers into his skin, dragging them roughly down his body, heading to his backside. A low groan escaped his throat when my fingers reached their destination, pressing into him.

“Oh God, Claire,” he groaned and abruptly removed himself. He settled on his back, lying next to me, with his arm over his eyes trying to catch his breath. “Wow,” he sighed.

My voice was unsteady as I tried to speak.

“Why did you stop?” I asked, trying to conceal my disappointment.