outside.
“How long you got?” he patted Tom’s shoulder.
“Only the night.” Tom grinned, clearly happy about it.
“Have you got like thirty pounds of Libby’s muesli in here?” Jack growled as he hefted the case up the stairs.
Waiting at the top, Tom looked uncomfortable.
Jack wasn’t in the mood to be mucked around. “Tom, what’s going on?”
“I exaggerated about how much I needed.”
“You mean you’ve brought most of the muesli I couriered to you back home again? Why say you needed more?”
“Because it was obvious you liked her. I wanted you to have some fun.”
With a grumpy humph Jack barged through his door, chucked the bag to the floor and stomped into the living room. He avoided the machines—instead he slumped into the one sofa at the back of the room.
Tom slowly followed him. Jack glanced at him and away again. He wasn’t in the mood for company and if his little brother wasn’t careful, he might get snappy.
“Do you know what I learned from you, Jack?” Tom gingerly sat on the hard seat of the lateral pull-down machine.
Jack didn’t answer. He really wasn’t in the mood.
“Never to give up.” Tom leaned forward. “You never gave up Jack. You never let me give up. You’ve fought so hard for so long.”
No, Jack hadn’t taught him that. That resilience and determination had been forged within Tom years before. “You learned that yourself, when you got through the cancer.”
“I didn’t get through the cancer on my own.” Tom argued fierce enough to make Jack bristle. “You helped me. Remember you used to sit there and read me stories when I was feeling sick? You took me to training with you. I used to sit on the embankment and watch you rowing on the river and I wanted to be just like you. That’s what got me started rowing. I looked up to you. You were my hero.”
Now Jack sat determinedly rigid. He didn’t feel like much of a hero. Sometimes he felt like he’d he hadn’t been there enough for Tom and Anne and that when he had been around, he’d been too hard on them. But he’d tried—as he’d tried with Libby. But it hadn’t worked.
“After Mum and Dad died you just took complete control,” Tom continued. “When I screwed up and it all went to my head and I got in with that party crowd a couple of years ago, you were there for me. You never gave up on me. You never gave up on Anne. You’ve never stopped fighting for us and for what we needed. So don’t you dare stop fighting for what you need.”
Jack looked at the man who’d once been the scrawny kid that he’d piggy-backed around. Hell, he’d always be his baby brother. He couldn’t trust that his voice would work.
Tom stood. “You might be older than me, but I’m allowed to lecture you sometimes too.”
Tom was right of course. Jack didn’t give up. He’d never given up. What had he been thinking these last thirty minutes? Why the hell had he just walked away?
Because he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been feeling. And all he’d been feeling was hurt. She’d rejected him. And why was that? Because she was afraid? Or because she didn’t feel the same way he did?
She knew why he’d given her the key, why he’d made that offer. Because he cared about her. It wasn’t just a desire to help a friend. It was the same way he’d do anything to help his brother and his sister. Because he loved them. And he loved her— not brotherly.
Hell. Could it happen that quick? Really ? Or was it just lust making him cross-eyed? But while he’d had the best sex ever with her, he also adored her passion for her product, her humor, her quick lip, and her generosity and desire to help Tom… everything about her won Jack’s heart.
His nerves skittered. Maybe she just wasn’t that into him ? But she’d laughed at his lame jokes, she’d eaten him up with her eyes and body—warm and lush and welcoming. It felt good—a natural, right fit. He couldn’t believe that only he felt that between
“How long you got?” he patted Tom’s shoulder.
“Only the night.” Tom grinned, clearly happy about it.
“Have you got like thirty pounds of Libby’s muesli in here?” Jack growled as he hefted the case up the stairs.
Waiting at the top, Tom looked uncomfortable.
Jack wasn’t in the mood to be mucked around. “Tom, what’s going on?”
“I exaggerated about how much I needed.”
“You mean you’ve brought most of the muesli I couriered to you back home again? Why say you needed more?”
“Because it was obvious you liked her. I wanted you to have some fun.”
With a grumpy humph Jack barged through his door, chucked the bag to the floor and stomped into the living room. He avoided the machines—instead he slumped into the one sofa at the back of the room.
Tom slowly followed him. Jack glanced at him and away again. He wasn’t in the mood for company and if his little brother wasn’t careful, he might get snappy.
“Do you know what I learned from you, Jack?” Tom gingerly sat on the hard seat of the lateral pull-down machine.
Jack didn’t answer. He really wasn’t in the mood.
“Never to give up.” Tom leaned forward. “You never gave up Jack. You never let me give up. You’ve fought so hard for so long.”
No, Jack hadn’t taught him that. That resilience and determination had been forged within Tom years before. “You learned that yourself, when you got through the cancer.”
“I didn’t get through the cancer on my own.” Tom argued fierce enough to make Jack bristle. “You helped me. Remember you used to sit there and read me stories when I was feeling sick? You took me to training with you. I used to sit on the embankment and watch you rowing on the river and I wanted to be just like you. That’s what got me started rowing. I looked up to you. You were my hero.”
Now Jack sat determinedly rigid. He didn’t feel like much of a hero. Sometimes he felt like he’d he hadn’t been there enough for Tom and Anne and that when he had been around, he’d been too hard on them. But he’d tried—as he’d tried with Libby. But it hadn’t worked.
“After Mum and Dad died you just took complete control,” Tom continued. “When I screwed up and it all went to my head and I got in with that party crowd a couple of years ago, you were there for me. You never gave up on me. You never gave up on Anne. You’ve never stopped fighting for us and for what we needed. So don’t you dare stop fighting for what you need.”
Jack looked at the man who’d once been the scrawny kid that he’d piggy-backed around. Hell, he’d always be his baby brother. He couldn’t trust that his voice would work.
Tom stood. “You might be older than me, but I’m allowed to lecture you sometimes too.”
Tom was right of course. Jack didn’t give up. He’d never given up. What had he been thinking these last thirty minutes? Why the hell had he just walked away?
Because he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been feeling. And all he’d been feeling was hurt. She’d rejected him. And why was that? Because she was afraid? Or because she didn’t feel the same way he did?
She knew why he’d given her the key, why he’d made that offer. Because he cared about her. It wasn’t just a desire to help a friend. It was the same way he’d do anything to help his brother and his sister. Because he loved them. And he loved her— not brotherly.
Hell. Could it happen that quick? Really ? Or was it just lust making him cross-eyed? But while he’d had the best sex ever with her, he also adored her passion for her product, her humor, her quick lip, and her generosity and desire to help Tom… everything about her won Jack’s heart.
His nerves skittered. Maybe she just wasn’t that into him ? But she’d laughed at his lame jokes, she’d eaten him up with her eyes and body—warm and lush and welcoming. It felt good—a natural, right fit. He couldn’t believe that only he felt that between
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