Page 39 of So I'll Know
I am so fucked up. Between his sexuality issues and hisuncanny ability to annoy me, Marcus is a walking red flag, but despite every logical thought in my head telling me that wanting him is wrong on multiple levels, my body couldn’t care less. I simultaneously resent and understand his hesitations and his fears, and it’s beyond frustrating. Queer people shouldn’t have to live like this, but we do, and it fucking sucks.
I’m starting to think Marion was right: Just rip off the Band-Aid and fuck him, consequences be damned.
I step out of the shower and dry off, pausing to finger the raised, angry-looking pink scar just below my hip bone. A few lighter scars pepper my inner thighs from the first few times I cut, but for some reason, that spot on my hip gives me the most relief. It’s been almost nine months now since I’ve felt the need to hurt myself, but I still press on the scar when I’m anxious; the pressure helps. And sometimes when I have nightmares, which has been more often lately, I’ll scratch the spot raw in my sleep.
I towel off my hair, dress in boxer briefs, an oversized T-shirt, and pink sweats, then walk into the living room. Marcus is still on the porch, his hands braced on the weathered railing as he stares out at the water. I study his profile, the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw lit orange and pink by the setting sun.
I inch the sliding door open and stand beside him. Together, we watch the sun sink behind a wall of purple clouds and gray mist. The ocean looks black as night falls, the high tide roiling as it crashes rhythmically against the rocks and the sandy beach.
I shiver, and Marcus glances at me. The wind tousles his dark brown hair, blowing it over his forehead, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He raises his arm as if he wants to put it around my shoulders, but stops himself, dropping it to his side with a sigh that’s barely audible over the waves.
“Remember how I told you about my dad being one of my investors? It’s really his company, Skynet.” His voice is a low rumble. “My father has conditions for that investment, and if I don’t follow his rules, he’ll punish Sebastian and Charlie.”
I grimace. “How can he do that, though?”
Marcus is quiet for so long that I think he won’t answer, but when he finally looks over at me, his eyes are glassy. “I loved my dad,” he chokes out. “I grew up worshipping him. He’s the reason I went to business school. I did everything to make him proud. I wanted to be his mirror image.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “But he wasn’t always a fair man, especially after my mom died. I know he loved my siblings, but he obviously favored me, and so when I got older, I used his resources to help Seb and Charlie.”
A pit opens in my stomach. “Help them how?”
“My dad and his associates have contacts at Rosewood Publishing, and they used those connections to get my sister’s writing priority over other authors.” He looks so fucking guilty, and I want to comfort him, but I don’t know what’s okay. “And while Seb and I made the Vancouver pub successful on our own, I knew my brother wanted to expand along the coast, so I signed on Skynet as an investor way before Seb and I had even discussed Seattle.” He shakes his head. “I know it sounds like nepotism, but it wasn’t fair how my father gave everything to me and nothing to them. I just wanted my brother and stepsister to have opportunities too.”
“Do Sebastian and Charlie know about this?” I ask quietly, dreading the answer.
“No.”
I blow out a sigh. “Okay, but he’s their dad too, right? They can’t be that mad to get his help.”
Marcus’s features harden. “They’re estranged, remember? Hewastheir dad, my dad. He’s barely that now. Turns out he was a piece of shit all along. And now, if I don’t do as he asks, he’s threatening to use those same connections to take everything away from them.” He gives me a look full of anger and helplessness. “And he can do it.”
I place a tentative hand on Marcus’s bicep, which flexesbeneath my touch, but he doesn’t pull away. “What’s he asking you to do?”
He purses his lips. “That’s not really important. I just need you to understand why I’m a prick sometimes. This situation is coming to a head with the opening of the Seattle pub.” He looks apologetic. “It’s why I was so out of sorts at the grocery store. I got a text from my father.” He gives me a lopsided smile that sets fire to my insides. “See? It’s me, not you.”
I want to know more, but Marcus steps away from my touch and walks into the house.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MARCUS
Iwake up with a start. My back is sore from sleeping on this damn couch, and I’m sweaty, despite the open windows. I rub my eyes and look around, trying to get my bearings.
I grab my phone, noting that it’s 3 a.m. on the dot. Like some sort of horror movie.
Something definitely woke me.
A bright beam of light cascades through the windows, bathing the room in silver.
The moon.
I rise and walk to the sliding-glass door, studying the sky. Despite how overcast it was earlier, the clouds have thinned, revealing a blanket of twinkling stars and the brightest full moon I’ve ever seen.
The tide has receded, and in the moonlight, Haystack Rock looks like a black obelisk standing watch over the expanse of beach.
Something catches my eye—a flash of yellow. I squint in disbelief and shake my head.
No way that’s him.
I turn and head down the hallway to the bedroom. The door is open, and I find the bed mussed but empty.
