Brother
1220 Words
VICTORIA'S POV
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One thing I forgot was how little personal space this family gave. With Jax, it was different, lonelier. It was standing on my own two feet, a little unstable but I held firm.
"I'll f*****g kill him," Wystan grits out, head nodding a little shakily, still pissed almost twelve hours later.
"Enough," Dad sighs, sounding so tired, pinching the bridge of his nose, the frown lines between his brows deep.
"Wystan, it's fine. Really," I insist, brushing the topic away, though it touches my heart to know he cares this much. I just truly wish that I could sweep the entire situation under the rug and not deal with it.
"How did you sleep?" Mom asks, leaning over my shoulder, pouring coffee into my ceramic cup. Again, changing the topic so swiftly. "Great, thanks."
It was small talk and side long glances that held pity, but I didn't miss how fast Wystan's leg was bouncing below the table next to me as we ate.
"Victoria," Dad addresses me calmly as he cuts into his omelet. My spine tingles with fear of the unknown. Is he going to preach? Going to ask a question I'd want to lie to answer?
"Father," I use the same exact tone. Is he going to say something about Jax? About rules of the house now that I'm back here?
"It's all a little sudden, but it's best you start to think of what you're going to do." Relief washes over me, soothing that anxious monster that fed my bloodstream with toxins.
"I know what I'm going to do," I tell him, keeping my chin up, watching as his eyebrows raise in surprise.
"You do?" Mom asks shocked, her sculpted brows also raised.
"I hope you didn't think of me as stupid," I tell them with a tone of amusement.
"You married Jax, didn't you?" Dad says coolly, as if...did he just make a joke?
"Dad," I gasp, watching bewildered as the corner of his mouth twitches up into a soft, teasing smile.
"Too soon?" he asks with fake guilt. I merely roll my eyes while smiling and turn to look at Wystan.
"Do you want to come with me when I get my things from Jax's house?" I ask. His eyes light up with mischief as if I wanted to tear into my soon-to-be ex husband with his teeth.
"When are we leaving?" Wystan grins.
"About an hour," I tell him, "So you're leaving him?" Mom asks, and I stare at her with a puzzled look.
"Of course I am." There was zero amusement in my voice when I said those four words. Did they think I was ill minded enough to stay with him after his betrayal? Do they think so little of me?
"Good," Dad throws his penny into the hat, "I always knew he was scum." Dad grumbles, lightly shaking his head in disapproval.
"I get it, I messed up. Can we drop it?" I ask kindly, as kindly as I can while my blood rushes to my head.
"I'll drop it when I can drop him," Wystan grumbles, practically slurping down his entire cup of coffee afterwards.
"Make it hurt, would you?" Dad sighs, but it sounds more like a plea.
"Mom," I hiss, seeking help to get out of this, but she merely finishes swallowing whatever food she has in her mouth, picks up her small tea cup and sips from it, shrugging, "Men should really know their places," Is all she says.
I'm on the very verge of leaving and going to stay with Ryder, even if it's weird. Perhaps I'm just trying to make it weird to not go there. We've always had this connection, Ryder and I, a unspoken one. One that people glanced at and knew, something so sacred that it didn't need to be unspoken, but then I met Jax and we drifted apart.
"See, even mom agrees." Wystan continues to pour gas onto the flame, casually waving his hand around as if this wasn't my life.
Sharply turning to him, I level him with a look that one would give a misbehaving child.
"If we go right now, I don't want to hear about it. I don't want to see it." It feels like I'm encouraging him, like I'm supporting this. "Right now?" Wystan asks with raised brows, that spark of excitement glowing from him.
"Yes," I grit out. Wystan grins, and he looks so much like dad when he does that. Slowly, he rises, pats his t-shirt down, and pushes the chair back in after stepping out from behind him.
"We will see you later," Wystan tells our parents, beaming. He taps my arm with his hand when he strides past, "I'm driving," He calls out.
Meeting my parent's gazes, I smile politely, like I was taught to do, "Wish me luck, I guess." I murmur, the uncertainty weighing down on my shoulders like big, heavy rocks.
"You don't need luck, you are a Devereux." My father says with pride, and he genuinely means it.
"Can you slow down?" I seethe, my feet pressed against the passenger seat floor of Wystan’s car.
“Re-lax,” He drawls, laughing as he speeds through the cars.
“I’m going to puke in your f*****g car!” I yell at him, a lie, but a necessary one, because the next second, Wystan slows down, lifting his foot off the gas pedal, the vehicle slowing down drastically.
"Do not dare throw up in this car." He sneers at me like I was the problem.
"Then stop driving like you're racing." I snap back, "You'd know when I'm racing." Wystan scoffs, pride radiating off him.
"You don't still do that, do you?" I ask suspiciously. He merely shrugs, ignoring the question, but it's still an answer.
"They are going to kill you," I huff out a snort, lightly shaking my head as my muscles relax and I finally just sink into the seat.
"That's if your husband doesn't send me to jail for ruffling him up a bit," I can hear the smile in his voice before even looking at him. "You're going to be staying downstairs in the foyer." Because if I take him inside, he will hurt Jax.
"Come on," He whines, "You can't expect me to let you go up there all alone." I stare at my brother, wondering if he's busy being serious.
"You wait." I demand, "Or we can just turn around right now and then you would have wasted both of our morning's." And there's nothing more than I hate than wasted time.
"Fine," He says, rolling his eyes, "I don't need back up, I promise," I say, smiling as the car comes to a slow halt in front of the house.
"You scream if you do," He demands, and I know that he'll come. My brother would come for me.
"Be right back," I chirp, getting out of the car. I strut into the place I've been calling home for several years, and my heart drops at the sight of it, all the memories busting through a wall of pain that plows down upon my heart.
"What the hell are you doing here?" A female voice screeches, venom in her voice, anger in her eyes.
- Writer
