Twist the Knife - Page 166

His lips pinch together. “Pain, resentment, guilt. All those good, healthy emotions.”

I shake my head. “That’s not healthy at all. She seems like she can handle herself pretty well.” I don’t want to say for someone who grew up in a cult, because that sounds terrible, but I think he senses it.

He pulls me off the dirt path into the shadows between two of the buildings. “I don’t want to be like our dad, trying to control her every decision.” I can barely see his expression in the weak, hazy moonlight, but the pain in his voice is clear. “But I also can’t stand the thought of anyone ever hurting her again.” He drops his gaze. “And I think there’s some resentment on her end.”

“Why?”

He blows out a long breath. “Because when I got her away from our father, I sent her to live with our aunt. She was a safe place for Jezzie. But I think Jezzie thought she was going to come live with me. And I didn’t really have the right living arrangements for that.”

“Did your aunt take care of her?”

“Yeah, they’re really close now. But at the time, I was basically leaving her with a stranger.” He shrugs. “I’d probably do things a little differently now. But you can’t change the past, right?”

“Very true.” I study him for a few seconds, not sure if he’ll be receptive to what I want to say. “Maybe you can tell her that?”

“Admit I was wrong?” His eyes widen in jovial surprise. “What kind of big brother do you think I am?”

Laughing, I shake my head. “I don’t actually think you were wrong. You said it yourself, your aunt was a safe environment. I think you made the smartest decision you could, under the circumstances. But you can tell her you have regrets too and that you wish things could’ve been different. Or maybe just listen to her?”

“But we do the barb and banter thing so well.”

I’ve said enough. “Yes, you do.”

He squeezes my hand. “Thank you. I’ll have to think about it. Maybe I’ll ride out to campus and take her out for dinner or something one night so we can talk.”

“That’s a great idea.”

“Do you want to come and be referee?”

I think he’s testing the water with his teasing tone, but underneath it, he’s serious. “I will if you want me to, but I think it’s better if it’s just the two of you.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He smirks, a shadow of his usual cockiness returning. “I’ll do my best to keep it civil but no promises.”

I blow out an exasperated breath and try to hide my laughter.

“Come on.” He curls his hand around mine again. “I want you to meet Shelby when you’re not riding a pot brownie high.”

“Oh my God.” I press my hand to my forehead. “I’ll never live that down, will I?”

Shelby runs up to us. “Hi, Margot! Oh my God, I love your shirt! Did Jiggy tell you we?—”

“Bestie,” Jigsaw draws out the word in a low, warning tone.

I flick my gaze between the two of them. “You what?”

“Nothin’. Come here, so you can meet everyone.” Shelby threads her elbow through mine and pulls me toward the Mustang. “I’m so happy you joined us tonight!”

“Thanks.” Her enthusiasm is infectious and she seems so genuine. I already like her. We stop in front of two women who I recognize from the night at Remy’s bar.

“Margot!” Ella shouts, sliding off the back of the car and landing on the ground with a muted thump from her heavy Dr. Martens boots. Her gaze shoots to something—or someone—behind me. “I, uh, didn’t realize you were with Jigsaw.”

She shakes that off and drags the redhead by her side closer.

Shelby pats the woman on the shoulder. “This is Dex’s niece, Juliet.”

I turn, seeking Jigsaw’s attention. Isn’t he worried it will get back to Dex or his other club brothers that we were out together?

He steps up next to me and slips his arm around my shoulders in a possessive way that makes it obvious we’re together.