Chapter Three: How Badly He Wanted To
"Jackie!"
Jack rolled his eyes at the sound of his sister's voice on the other side of his bedroom door. He hated when she called him that. She knew he hated when she called him that. "Come in," he groaned. "And my name's not Jackie."
"Hey," she chirped, bouncing into the room. That was the thing with Emily-- she chirped and bounced. He'd never known anyone so fucking cheerful. "So," she said, perching at the foot of his bed. He was at his desk, idly drawing in a sketch pad. "Wasn't tonight so fun? I love it when we have parties at the restaurant."
"It was all right." How someone who had spent the better part of her night clearing tables could be in such a great mood was beyond him. "What was that crap you said about being in love?"
"Oh." A delighted smile danced across Emily's face. "I am."
"With some guy named Jason?" Jack asked, remembering her offer to help with the dishes.
"Who?" Emily asked blankly. "Oh, the dishwasher. He's cute, but no. I love Keith."
"Who?" Jack echoed.
"Oh, you know him," Emily said, drawing her pajama-clad legs up under her. "Keith Jones."
Jack's eyes popped. "Keith Jones? Emily, he's seventeen!"
"I know," Emily said nonchalantly.
Jack frowned. He hadn't cared for Keith much in high school, and he couldn't say that his opinion of him was getting any better right then. "He's only after one thing."
"No, he's not." Emily shook her head confidently. "We've been going out for two months, and all we've done is--"
"Stop," Jack winced. "What does Dad think about you going out with someone that age?"
Emily's pretty face worked its way into a scowl. "He hates it," she said glumly. "Mom was this close to getting him to chill out about it, but after he caught us on the couch--"
"Please stop." Jack had half a mind to go kick that smug Keith Jones's ass, but he wouldn't. Not yet, anyway.
"You're just as bad as Dad," Emily complained, running a hand back through her hair. "I'm not a little kid."
"Whatever." That was debatable, as far as Jack was concerned. The girl had played with Barbies till she was thirteen.
"Anyway," Emily rolled her eyes. "I just thought I'd let you know that Delia mentioned you the other day."
Jack drew in a deep breath. Delia? Really? "What did she say?"
Emily smirked. "That you haven't been calling her, either."
Jack groaned, leaning back in his desk chair. "I didn't know I was required to keep in touch with my ex-girlfriend."
Another eye roll from Emily. "Give me a break, Jack. You broke up because you went away to college, not because you were cheating on her."
Jack drew back as if he had been slapped. "What do you know about that?"
"What do I know about what?"
And in that horrible moment, Jack realized that Emily hadn't known a damned thing, and that he had just revealed more than he'd meant to.
"You were cheating on Delia?"
"Damn it, Emily, lower your voice," Jack winced. "Yes." Damn Kristy Sawyer and her C-cup breasts.
"Why?" Emily looked absolutely heartbroken. "Delia is the sweetest girl, Jack, and she loves you."
"I know she is, Emily, okay? I fucked up."
"Damn right you did," Emily reprimanded. "Does she know?"
Jack closed his eyes, then opened them again. "No. And you'd better not tell her, Emily."
Emily rose from the bed and headed for the door, shaking her head as she went. "You're a bastard."
"Hey, Emily, wait."
Emily paused on her way out the door, regarding him impatiently.
"You were only four years old when we moved here," Jack blurted out. Why couldn't he get this out of his head? "What do you remember about before?"
Emily frowned. "Not much," she said, biting her lip thoughtfully. "We lived in a big, fancy house. Grandma used to come visit. What ever happened to her, anyway?"
"I don't know," Jack said truthfully.
Emily's frown deepened, and she leaned against the doorjamb. "That's weird, huh?"
"Yeah," Jack nodded. "I think back then Mom and Dad were doing things that they don't want u to know about."
Emily's eyes widened. "Like what?"
"I don't know."
It was only as he spoke the words that he knew how badly he wanted to.