He was dying to ask which of Jallow’s poems she liked best. Instead, he announced, “I’m going to the barn.”
“You just came from the barn,” Marjorie said.
“You didn’t have supper yet,” said Tommy. “We have pies.”
Jacob stalked from the room.
Graham jogged after him. “Wait.”
Jacob waited. In part because he loved his brother, and in part out of habit.
Graham was the de facto head of the Wynchester family, despite not having been a member of it a single day longer than Jacob. They’d both spent their childhoods working for the same circus—though their experiences there had been wildly different.
Graham, the star of the show. Lit up in lights, to thunderous applause.
Jacob, out of sight. In the tents with the animals. Treated like one.
“I’m sorry about the poetry balderdash,” Graham said remorsefully.
That was the other thing about Jacob’s adopted brother. Despite all Graham’s advantages—
public adoration
an incredible wife
acrobatic talent
natural leadership
an endless circle of friends and acquaintances
lighter skin from his white father (which allowed Graham more privileges in British society)
the presence of a loving mother during Graham’s infancy and most of his childhood
—despite all of that, Graham was still dependably, unfailingly,nice.
He had never once seen or treated Jacob as lesser. Which made Jacob feel that much worse any time he felt the tiniest flash of resentment.
If Jacob wanted to be head of the household—which they both knew he did not—Graham would have stepped aside without hesitation. If Jacob wished to command an army of spies or leap across London from rooftop to rooftop, Graham would relinquish his best shoes and his best men in a heartbeat.
But Jacob didn’t want Graham’s life. Jacob wanted his own life. Success at whathewas talented at. A woman to love him for whohewas.
And… all right, yes, maybe an adoring public. People for whom his face and his name were enough.
“It’s so much easier for you,” Jacob blurted out.
Graham blinked. “For me, personally? Or ‘you’ as a collective, meaning me and all of our other siblings?”
It was Jacob’s turn to blink. “For most of you, probably, though in that exact moment, I was indeed referring to you personally. Everything has always been easier for you.”
He sounded like they were eight years old again. He wished he hadn’t spoken. What was the point? Graham would deny it. Jacob certainly wouldn’t pull the scabs off old wounds that should have healed years ago to explain—
“I know,” Graham said softly. “I’m sorry.”
Damn it. There he went being bloody kind and understanding again. Like everyone else in the world, Jacob had no choice but to love his brother.
“I’m sorry, too,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that.”
