6
Jack
Ihad been accused of a lot of things in my life, and being a patient man was nowhere on that list. I had a certain way I expected things to go, and when life deviated from that plan, I was not amused. But tonight, I had no choice but to wait.
Not true. You could engage your brain and leave. He’s home now. He’ll be fine.
But I couldn’t leave, because hewasn’tokay. Even once he sobered up, Slade would be broken and lost. But he didn’t have to be. Exploring anything with Slade was a recipe for disaster.
The boy was right. He and I were as different as jet fuel and marshmallows. I was lists and routines, where Slade was impulsivity and chaos.
I checked my watch. He’d been in there six minutes. It had been three since the last time I heard the water running. I could almost picture him on the other side of the door, waiting for me to give up.
Well, I had news for him. I hated backing down from a challenge even more than I hated being kept waiting. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. I counted off the passing seconds, and when the standoff reached a full ten minutes, enough was enough. I took one step across the hall and rapped my knuckles against the door.
“You’re stalling, Slade,” I said in my most forceful tone. No response. “I already promised you nothing was going to happen tonight. I know you just met me tonight, but my word is my bond. I would never do anything to ruin the relationship I have with my brother and his men. Hurting you would do exactly that.”
Why in the hell was I pouring my heart out to a thin door? If I wanted to, I could easily bust it open with one quick hip check, but that wouldn’t get me any closer to my goal.
Goals. My entire damn life was comprised of them. And, until tonight, gaining the trust of this skittish, damaged boy was nowhere on that list.
I checked my watch again. Twelve minutes.
I tried the doorknob, unsurprised to find it locked. “Come on, Slade. It’s time for bed.”
Nothing.
His silence worried me. He had seemed to sober up a bit while we were outside, but I’d been around enough drunk people to know that was only an illusion. Whether Slade realized it or not, he had been through an emotional roller coaster tonight that heightened his buzz. I doubted anyone else noticed the way his mood rose and fell. I wondered if anyone—even Jordan, who claimed to be his best friend—had figured out what had him so upset.
While tonight had been a celebration for my brother and the family he was creating, it was a night of mourning for Slade. I saw it when Jordan first embraced him. Jordan, the sweetheart that he was, had no idea that him falling in love was like a dagger to Slade's heart. I doubted that was a revelation Slade had any intention of sharing, and, as I said, I relied heavily on my integrity. I would never betray Slade's trust, not even with this.
Fifteen minutes.
The games stopped now.
“Slade. Either you open the door right now, or you're going to be replacing it tomorrow,” I informed him. This time, there was shuffling from the other side of the door.
The handle jiggled but didn't turn.
“Let me in, Slade.” I bumped my forehead against the door. I couldn't remember the last time I had practically begged a boy to open up to me. And, make no mistake, that was exactly what I was doing tonight. I wasn't only asking him to open the door. I was asking him to give me a chance to prove myself to him.
I wouldn't take it easy on him, because that was the last thing he needed. What he needed was structure—someone to correct his course when he began to drift. Hell, right now, he needed someone to drag him, kicking and screaming, back to any sort of a constructive path.
And what makes you think you have the time to devote to him?
The voice of reason could always be counted on to splash cold water on me anytime I strayed too far from my own path. No, I didn't have time for someone as needy as Slade, but I couldn't resist the temptation. Something told me he would be worth it. For him, I might be willing to face some of my own truths, starting with the one Doug and Eli had been trying to hammer into my head for years. I had built a great life for myself, but it was like a home built on spec, standing empty, waiting for someone to truly live there.
Maybe it was time to live.
“Slade, please open the door.” I rested my hand on the doorknob. “Even if it's just to tell me to fuck off, let me see that you're okay.”
“Why does it matter?” He sounded so shattered. It was as if he honestly didn't believe my concern was genuine. I wanted to find whoever had made him feel so poorly about himself and strangle them. There was a shine to him somewhere, but someone along the way had made him feel useless. Worthless.
I wanted to take him to bed and whisper things I had no business promising. I wanted to brush the hair away from his forehead and tell him he didn't have to worry anymore, that I was here to help him. I wanted to make him believe that it would all get better. He might hate me along the way, but, in the end, he would thank me.
“Open the door,” I insisted again. “I am not having this conversation until I can see you.”
The door cracked open and evil Slade poked his head out. “You’ve seen me. Happy now?”
