A Street Over and a World Away

Chapter 8: The Bonding

Isaac struggled to make sense of what was happening as Jackson hit Theo and knocked him to the floor.

"He's my brother!" Jackson shouted at Theo. "And if you or any of your ass-licking goons so much as look at him wrong again I'll break every bone in your fucking worthless little bodies. Now get the fuck out of my house!"

Had Isaac heard that right? Had Jackson really just threatened Theo Raeken, his friend and one of the most popular guys at school, in order to...protect Isaac? It didn't make sense. Why would he do that?

Jackson grabbed Isaac's arm and led him out of the parlor and back up the hallway to the living room.

"You okay?"

Isaac nodded and tried not to flinch when Jackson's hand brushed his shoulder.

"You want to stay down here or go upstairs?"

Isaac glanced at the grand staircase that dominated the center of the expansive living room. Surrounded as it was by noisy party-goers it was nevertheless the more appealing option since it would take Isaac to the safety of his bedroom.

"I want to go back to my room."

"Okay." Jackson's hand again landed on Isaac's shoulder as he followed Isaac toward the staircase.

Isaac stopped on the second step, realizing that Jackson was still behind him. "I got it from here," he said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He was still shaken up, and he appreciated that Jackson hadn't abandoned him in the sea of people around them, but he didn't need to be escorted like a child in a busy mall.

"I'm coming with you, dumbass."

Isaac frowned but said nothing as they ascended the stairs. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to lock himself in his room and not come out until everyone had left. He wanted to pretend this night had never happened...Well, maybe not the whole night. He'd had fun hanging out with Ethan and Danny; he'd even enjoyed getting to know Liam better. It was the humiliating ordeal with Theo and his asshole friends that he needed to erase from his mind.

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you," Isaac mumbled as Jackson followed him into his room and shut the door.

"Then fucking stop doing it," Jackson answered with characteristic hostility.

"I didn't want go to the party. You made me." Isaac folded his arms and sat on the edge of his bed. "I should have just stayed in here."

"No, you should have stayed with Danny or the twins." Jackson sat in Isaac's desk chair and glared at him. "They would have kept Theo from messing with you."

"Did you ask them to do that?" He couldn't stand the notion of Jackson's friends pitying him.

"No, they just would have." Jackson sighed and shook his head. "Look, I do want you to stop embarrassing me. But this...this mess was on Theo not you. I'm done with him after tonight."

Isaac's eyes widened and his anger deflated. "Because of me?"

"Because he's an asshole."

"He's always been an asshole, and you were friends with him before." Isaac diplomatically avoided pointing out that Jackson was also an asshole.

"Yeah well maybe I don't want asshole friends anymore." One corner of Jackson's mouth curled into a smile. "Especially if they're gonna fuck with my brother."

Isaac was brought up short by that response. He still didn't understand why the brother thing was so important to Jackson. They had spent their whole lives living in separate homes, ignoring each other at best and hating each other at worst. Why was this one detail such a game changer for Jackson? As far as Isaac was concerned he still only had one brother, and he had died overseas five years ago.

Brother or not, Isaac felt guilty if he had ruined one of Jackson's friendships. "But...don't you like Theo?"

Jackson snorted. "Of course not. He's shit compared to my real friends."

Isaac nodded. He could understand that. He kind of liked Jackson's real friends. Theo was horrible by comparison – and just in general.

"Next year you're joining the lacrosse team," Jackson said.

"What?!"

"Next year you're joining the lacrosse team," he repeated. "It'll be good for your popularity. If you want to quit embarrassing me, you need to stop being such a loser."

Isaac huffed and opened his mouth to tell Jackson off, but Jackson continued quietly before he could.

"Because I'm stuck with you no matter what." There was a small smile on Jackson's lips, and he looked...happy.

Isaac closed his mouth. Okay, the brother thing really was important to Jackson. That didn't stop Isaac from protesting his ridiculous suggestion.

"I don't know how to play lacrosse."

"I'll teach you."

"What if I don't like it?"

"Of course you'll like it. It's fucking lacrosse."

"What if I'm no good at it?"

"Of course you'll be good at it. It's genetic."

"I think you might be mixing up lacrosse and eye color."

Jackson laughed and grinned at Isaac, and Isaac got the sense it wasn't sarcastic for once.

"But Theo's on the team."

Jackson's eyes lit up. "Yeah. It'll be a great chance for us to crush him like Aiden and Ethan do when someone pisses them off." Jackson hesitated for a moment then shrugged. "And we don't have to just do lacrosse. We can do things you like too."

Isaac blinked at him. Jackson was looking for things they could do together? What the fuck?!

"You know I might not even be staying here, right?"

"What are you talking about? We're adopting you."

"Only if my dad" –our dad?– "is convicted. He might not be. There's not a whole lot of evidence. Your parents only heard something that one time."

Jackson opened his mouth like he was going to say something but stopped. He left a few minutes later, obviously deep in thought about something, probably his social standing. After all, the secret that Isaac was his brother had just been revealed and Jackson had ended his friendship Theo. A lot of things were influx for Jackson. Isaac was just relieved that Jackson somehow didn't seem to blame him.


"Oh hi, Jackson."

Jackson gave a nod of recognition to his father's long-time assistant, Mary Weaver, as he walked into the man's law office on Saturday morning.

"I heard about your big championship win last night. Congrats." She smiled pleasantly at him.

"Thanks. I need to see my dad."

Mary frowned. "He's preparing for a big case."

"This is important."

She hesitated a moment then called through to Jackson's father to tell him Jackson was here.

After waiting for acknowledgment, Jackson crossed the room and opened the heavy wooden door to his father's office.

"I know." Jackson's father held up a hand to silence him as he walked into the room. "I missed your game last night. I'm sorry. There was a development in the Landon Corp case and–"

"Dad–"

"Of course I want to make it up to you and I'm very proud–"

"Dad!" Jackson tossed himself in the chair in front of his father's desk and glared at the man. "That's not why I'm here."

Concern etched itself across the man's features. "Was there an incident at the party? Something I need to be aware of?"

Jackson automatically started to say no since he had already dealt with the 'incident' between Theo and Isaac, and he could handle any further fallout from it, but he reconsidered as he realized it was a good starting point for the topic he needed to broach. "Yes, there was. One of the guys from the team, Theo Raeken, was hassling Isaac."

"Is Isaac okay?" Jackson's father asked, his frown deepening.

"Yes, I stopped it before he got hurt."

Jackson's father visibly relaxed and a smile formed on his face. "Well done, son. I know the last few days have been hard on you, and I know I owe you...well an apology doesn't cover it, for keeping the truth about you and Isaac from you all this time."

"Yeah, you do. But that's not what I'm here about either." Jackson gave his father a serious look. He needed the man to tell him that what he was about to say was ridiculous, a total non-possibility. "Isaac thinks we may not get custody of him, that his deadbeat father might get off."

Jackson's father sighed and looked away, and Jackson knew his concerns weren't going to be allayed. "It's possible."

Jackson huffed and slammed his hand against the arm of his chair. "And you're just sitting around working on a case? It's just business as usual for you?"

He looked stung. "I've been worrying about the outcome of Mr. Lahey's trial since Isaac moved in with us, but apart from testifying about what I heard and counting on my reputation to carry some sway, there isn't anything I can do."

"You could be at home." Jackson glared and folded his arms. "You could spend some time with us before it's too late."

The man inhaled and glanced at the sprawl of documents on his desk. "But if it's not productive–"

"Yeah whatever." Jackson stood and turned to leave.

"Son, wait."

Jackson kept walking.

"Stay...please."

Jackson paused with his hand on the door, finally peering over his shoulder as he heard his father making a call. It became apparent that he was talking to his partner in the law firm, and after exchanging a brief greeting with the man, what he said shocked Jackson.

"Listen, Bill, I'm going to need you to write the closing argument for the Landon Corp case." Jackson's father was silent for a few moments. "I know, but I'm having a family emergency." There was another pause and then he continued. "Okay thanks. I'll have Mary email you my notes."

Jackson stared as his father finished the call and hung up. He stood, put on his coat, and gathered his things before rounding the desk.

"Let's go."

Jackson nodded and turned back to the door as his father patted his back.

"I really am sorry I missed your game, Jack. It was unacceptable."

"I expected it," Jackson muttered.


"Can you take our picture in front of the sarcophagus?" Mrs. Whittemore handed her camera to the museum attendant and wrapped an arm around Isaac's back as she guided him toward the ancient Egyptian artifact.

Isaac snickered to himself and let the smile linger on his face for the photograph. After all the changes that had happened in his life the last couple months, he was nevertheless spending his Saturday afternoon next to a coffin. Although, strolling through a comfortable, climate-controlled museum with his would-be adoptive family was certainly quite a bit more pleasant than sitting on a backhoe under the blistering sun, alone and digging graves.

Jackson draped a casual arm over Isaac's shoulders as his parents crowded into the shot around them, and everyone ducked and angled themselves until they were arranged together with a suitable view of the sarcophagus and the tomb recreation in the background. The museum attendant snapped their picture, and Mr. Whittemore laughed about something Jackson said about the exhibit as they separated.

Everyone was behaving strangely today. Jackson and Mr. Whittemore had arrived home that morning as Isaac and Mrs. Whittemore were finishing a late breakfast. Isaac almost couldn't believe what he was hearing as Mr. Whittemore strolled into the dining room and announced that he wanted the four of them to spend the day together as a family. Isaac had been sure the man would spend all day at the office like he usually did on Saturdays. Weirdly Jackson went along with the suggestion without complaint and had been in a suspiciously good mood all day. Perhaps strangest of all was that it was late afternoon and Mrs. Whittemore hadn't had a drink since the Kir Royale she'd consumed at breakfast. She had even forgone cocktails at lunch. Her streak of sobriety appeared to be at its end, however, as she called Isaac over to a display case featuring Egyptian jewelry from the second dynasty, and Isaac spied her silver flask peeking out of her purse.

"Would you stand right here, sweetie?" she requested as she nudged Isaac sideways until he was directly between her and Jackson and Mr. Whittemore's line of sight from across the room. She hunched over and lifted the flask. "David fusses when I drink in public."

A cold knot formed in Isaac's stomach, but he reminded himself that she wasn't like his father. She had never hit him or raised her voice when she was drunk. Her drinking wasn't any of his business.

"Would you like a sip?" She asked after taking a couple swigs. "It's a very smooth gin."

"No, uh..." He hesitated, unsure if he would offend her, but when she gave him an expectant smile, he continued. "Alcohol makes me uncomfortable. It reminds me of my dad."

Her eyes widened and her face dropped. "Even with me?"

Isaac gave a reluctant nod.

"Sweetie, I would never–" She screwed the cap back on the flask and dropped it into her purse. "I didn't realize you–" She squeezed his arm. "I'm sorry, baby."

Isaac shrugged and dropped his eyes.

She threw her arms around him with a dramatic flourish that he had grown to find endearing. "I'll do it privately from now on."

Isaac knew he should apologize and tell her to do whatever she wanted, especially in her own home, but instead he returned the tight embrace and muttered a quiet, "Okay, thanks."

After they left the museum, they went to a movie and then out to dinner at a seafood restaurant Isaac had never been to. He knew what this day was about, why Jackson was being nice, why Mr. Whittemore had taken time off: the trial for his father was set to begin on Wednesday, and if the man were acquitted Isaac would be leaving. He'd be going back to his old life. Instead of family outings and evenings spent studying with Jackson, he'd be working at his father's cemetery and hoping to be spared from a night jammed into the freezer in his basement. The Whittemores would probably try to check on him; he was sure they would let him come over whenever he wanted; Jackson might even continue to sit with him at school; but none of it would matter. His father would make him cut off contact with them. He'd only be living a street over, but it would be like a world away for all it would help.

Isaac licked his lips and tried to say what he needed to say. He wanted to take Dr. Johnson's advice. He wanted to talk to his new family about his fears for the trial, for his future. He couldn't. Everyone was in such a good mood. Mrs. Whittemore was making plans for the summer. Apparently there were a lot of places they had to go, and Isaac was going to need a passport and a new wardrobe, and he needed to figure out which countries he wanted to visit first, and wouldn't it be lovely to spend a week along the Mediterranean? Then Jackson started griping that they couldn't be gone for too long because he needed at least a month to make a decent lacrosse player out of Isaac for next season, and they had to start preparing for the PSAT, and Isaac was going to have to consider taking AP classes next year.

Isaac tuned out the surprisingly friendly argument they were having about his future and poked at his half-eaten dessert with his fork. He looked up when Mr. Whittemore nudged his foot under the table and gave him a reassuring smile.

He reached across the table and patted Isaac's arm. "It's going to be okay. I promise."

Isaac nodded and forced a smile onto his face. He didn't think it would be, but the least he could do was pretend.


Jackson spent the car ride home that night psyching himself up for what he had to do, and by the time they walked into the house, he was ready.

"I need to say something," He said, catching their attention and leading them into the living room. He waited until everyone was situated before he continued. "I want to testify at the trial."

His parents exchanged glances, and Isaac looked at him with surprise.

"Did you hear anything that night, son?" his father asked. "Weren't you listening to music in the hot tub when it happened? I know you want to help, but lying under oath–"

"I heard it before I went to the hot tub."

Jackson's mother gasped and Isaac's cheeks reddened. Jackson continued before anyone could interrupt.

"But that night isn't what I want to testify about."

"It might help. The more witnesses–"

"I've known about the abuse for years. I heard it for the first time when we were in middle school." Jackson looked away from Isaac and his mother before he could see their reactions, squaring his eyes on his father instead. "That's more important right? Establishing a pattern of behavior."

"You knew?!"

Jackson flinched as Isaac leaped to his feet and crossed the room to stand in front of him.

"You knew all that time?"

Jackson nodded, careful to keep his face stony as he ignored the swell of emotions crashing over him.

"You knew?" Isaac repeated, his voice trembling, breaking along with Jackson's defenses.

"I didn't even like you back then," Jackson answered, pleading with his eyes for Isaac to understand. "I barely knew you."

"All those years" –A muscle in Isaac's jaw twitched as he gritted his teeth– "and you didn't do anything?"

"I didn't know we were brothers." Jackson grabbed Isaac's arm, but he yanked it away.

"We're not."

Isaac turned and strode out of the room without a backward glance.

"Sweetie, wait!" Jackson's mother got up and ran after him, but not before she looked at Jackson with obvious disappointment.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Jackson's father sounded calm, but Jackson knew better.

"It wasn't any of my business."

"We could have done something!" He wasn't quite shouting but his voice was raised. "We could have gotten custody of him years ago!"

Jackson folded his arms and glared. He wasn't the only one to blame for this mess. "If you had told me the fucking truth this never would have happened!"

Jackson's father opened his mouth but shut it again. He took a breath and let it out slowly. "I think you better go to your room."

"Yeah, whatever."

Jackson stormed out of the living room, refusing to give his father the satisfaction of knowing how upset he was or how much he regretted not coming forward about what Isaac had been going through.


Isaac avoided Jackson all day Sunday and did his best to ignore him at school on Monday. It wasn't completely possible since they rode together, and since Jackson once again gathered his friends and sat at Isaac's table at lunch, but Isaac stuck with dismissive one- or two-word answers and tried to pretend Jackson wasn't there. He knew it was childish and that he was pushing his luck with Jackson big time, but he was mortified that Jackson had known what he was going through for all those years, and he felt weirdly betrayed by him.

It only got worse that afternoon when they had to skip last period and ride together to meet with Ms. Rosa, the prosecutor in Isaac's dad's case. At least Mr. and Mrs. Whittemore were there too to provide some degree of buffer – Mr. Whittemore came directly from his office, and Ms. Whittemore arrived separately from home – but hearing Jackson recount in excruciating detail what he had overheard during some of the worst moments of Isaac's life, all without doing a damn thing to help, reminded Isaac of something he had gradually lost sight of after moving in with the Whittemores, and especially after the recent surprise twin brother revelation: Jackson wasn't a good person. Isaac wanted to believe he could change, and he had changed –dramatically– in how he treated Isaac, but it was chilling to remember just how utterly ice cold and selfish he could be if he didn't deem someone worthy of his time.

Isaac was sitting on his bed working on his chemistry homework and resisting the urge to go ask Jackson for help when there was a knock on his bedroom door. Before he could get up to answer it, Jackson walked in carrying a box.

"Dude, privacy!"

"Sorry." Jackson glanced around the room as though he expected to find something incriminating.

"What do you want?" Isaac asked, eying the illustrated box Jackson was balancing on one arm. It was a game of some kind, still wrapped in clear plastic.

"I got you this." Jackson approached Isaac's bed and thrust the box at him, a look that was part-hostile, part-expectant on his face.

Isaac took the game and read the title, Race for the Galaxy. It featured a space design with a large spaceship and a planet on the front. "I don't understand."

Jackson sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's a gift."

Isaac's brow furrowed as he looked up at Jackson then flipped the game over and examined the illustrations on the back. It looked cool, but there was an obvious problem. "I don't have anyone to play it with."

"I'll play it with you, dumbass." Jackson took a seat on the edge of Isaac's bed. Some of the hostility had faded from his face, and now he just looked expectant.

"Uh okay, thanks I guess." Isaac dug his thumbnail into the crease between the boxes, tearing the plastic wrap so he could open it. He wanted to see the cards.

"Do you like it?" Jackson asked, gathering up the loose plastic Isaac dropped on the bed and leaning over to toss it in the wastebasket by Isaac's desk.

"Yeah, I do." Isaac smiled at him and lifted the top of the box off the game. He was still mad at Jackson, but he got the impression that Jackson didn't give people gifts often and that this was kind of a big deal for him. "This looks fun."

"Good." Jackson exhaled in a way that sounded suspiciously like a sigh of relief. "I know you like strategy board games and space stuff, so I thought you'd go for it."

Isaac raised his head from the rules sheet he had just picked up. "How'd you know that?"

"It was in your file."

"My fi– Oh yeah." Isaac laughed as he remembered the questionnaire Mr. Whittemore had made him fill out when he first moved in and the dossiers he'd received on Jackson and his parents. He still thought it was an utterly absurd way for Jackson's father to get to know him, but just as he had grown to appreciate Mrs. Whittemore's exuberance, he had grown comfortable with Mr. Whittemore's dedication to efficiency. He chuckled as he realized that the fact Jackson had actually taken the time to memorize Isaac's responses was also comically characteristic of him.

They went over the rules, but as Isaac was shuffling the cards he remembered something. "Wait a minute. I talked about liking strategy board games in my favorite memories answer, about playing games with Cam the summer before he shipped out for the army."

"Yeah." Jackson shrugged. "So?"

Isaac set the cards down and glared at Jackson. "So you were trying to copy a memory I have of my dead brother? Do you not see how fucked up that is?"

Jackson narrowed his eyes. "Our dead brother."

"What?"

"Every time you mention Cam you call him your brother, but he was my brother too."

"Oh really? Did you spend a week crying when he got killed?"

"No, because I never got to know him at all." Jackson clenched his hands and scowled. "I don't know anything about him except that he used to go jogging in the morning before school and that he knocked over our mailbox one time because he wasn't paying attention when he was backing out of your driveway."

Isaac laughed at the forgotten memory. "Cam was a terrible driver. I was legit afraid for my life a few times when I rode with him." He grinned and laughed harder as he realized something.

"What?"

"He drove just like you! You actually have that in common!"

Jackson huffed and folded his arms, but there was a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. "I am not a bad driver."

"Mmhmm."

"I'm not!"

Isaac picked up the cards and started dealing. "No worries. I kinda like being the best driver in the family."

"I haven't seen you drive yet. I bet you suck."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that." Isaac looked at his cards and glanced back at the rule sheet to be sure he knew what he was doing. "I'm going first."

"Doesn't matter. You're still gonna get your ass kicked," Jackson answered as he organized his hand, flipping cards over and changing the order.

"You wish!" Isaac rolled his eyes and made his first play.

They ended up playing three games, and Isaac won two of them. They were both competitive, and at a few points Isaac was sure that their trash talk and light teasing was going to escalate into a real argument, but one of them – surprisingly not always Isaac – managed to pull back each time before they crossed that line. By the time they finished, Isaac had gotten pretty good at figuring out when Jackson was legitimately getting angry or upset, and when he was just playing.

They worked on homework after their games, and Jackson helped Isaac study for chemistry. Things took a more serious turn as they were putting away their things for the night.

"So, are we okay?" Jackson asked quietly as he stood up from Isaac's bed. "About me not saying something sooner about–"

"You didn't say anything at all." Isaac dropped his books on his desk with a thud and frowned at Jackson. "If your parents hadn't heard it, nothing would have ever changed."

"I know," Jackson answered, staring at a point on the wall over Isaac's shoulder, "and I'm sorry."

"Okay." Isaac shrugged. "I guess I'm not still mad, but I'm not over it either."

"Are you gonna get over it?" Jackson seemed genuinely anxious, and it made answering easier.

"I want to." Isaac sank into his desk chair. "My therapist wants you, and me, and your parents to go for a group session. And I think we should."

Jackson hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

"Thanks."

Jackson clapped Isaac's shoulder as he walked past him to leave. "Night."

"Night," Isaac answered as Jackson pulled the door shut behind him.

He listened as Jackson's own door opened and then closed. There was something nice about sleeping across the hall from his brother again, even if the circumstances, and the brother, were very different.

-000–

End Note: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I'm tentatively planning three more chapters and an epilogue. Next up is the trial.

Feedback is always greatly appreciated!