Page 52 of Jensen

I haven’t let anyone, not since Holly.

Ghosts don’t die, and mine are no exception.

BEFORE

Jensen - Age Twenty

I’m in my room, trying to get ready for church with Brothers. Holly stayed in my bed last night. There’s a slight fear in my chest that he’ll find out. But I’m more annoyed I don’t have any clean shirts. That’s my fault for shoving them on the floor instead of in the basket.

She’s sitting up against my pillow in her red silk nightgown. Her eyes follow me as I sort through my dresser.

“You okay, Jen?” she asks.

I glance over my shoulder, guilty she’s even in my bed on Sunday. Technically, we didn’t do anything wrong. Everything was over before midnight.

She came in from doing whatever she does for Brothers early. Dinner was plated in the kitchen. She ate standing by the stove. I had a cup of coffee while I talked to her about my day.

She said that Kyle was back from Lexington and living with her now.

“Did you tell him?” I asked, stomach twisted with guilt.

She shook her head. “No, but he’d like to see you.”

After everything that’s happened, what I did with his mother, there’s no way I can look Kyle in the eyes ever again. I might resent Holly for that, but I can’t tell.

I don’t know what I feel anymore when I’m with her.

She saw my face and said it was alright if I didn’t want to see him. I went upstairs and left her to finish eating on her own. It’s hard to believe Kyle was my family, and now that’s been replaced. Now, it’s Holly, Brothers, and me, the fucked up holy trinity of organized crime.

My eyes fall on a clean shirt, a pale blue button up. I pull it on and start fastening it.

“You’re so handsome,” Holly says wistfully.

I don’t answer. I thought I loved Holly, but she’s starting to grate on my nerves. Now that I work closely with Brothers, I see other couples and wonder why I can’t have that normalcy. All Holly and I do is fuck in ways that kind of freak me out. I’m having trouble getting off from anything that isn’t mutual pain.

“Thanks,” I say finally.

She gets up, running her wine red nails down the front of my shirt.

“You want to do something later?” she asks.

I shake my head. “It’s Sunday.”

She pouts, frowning. “He won’t know.”

“He might.” That’s one thing Brothers Boyd is good at—knowing everything the minute it happens.

Her palm slides down, cupping me through my pants. “What about just a quickie, right now?”

I politely move my dick out of her hand under the guise of leaning over to grab my belt.

“I have church,” I say.

She snaps out of seduction mode, crossing her arms. Now, she looks the way she did when she used to yell at me and Kyle for getting mud on the carpet. That bothers me. I finish fastening my belt and push my wallet into my pocket. The mirror says I look pretty good, clean-cut and up and coming.

“You spend a lot of time with Brothers,” she says.

“Yeah, I work for him,” I say.