Mismatch - By Nana Malone Page 0,80

climb into her car.

He held on to the door frame. “Jess, you have to listen to me. I'm so sorry. Shit. I wish…fuck. I never should have lied.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up.” Smacking his hands off the door frame, she slammed the door shut. “Just my luck that I still need you for the gallery opening. But I’ll be getting you another point of contact. You and I are done.”

Chapter 25

“Any luck finding her?”

Eli paused abruptly in his doorway, keys still in the lock. In his living room, perched on his sectional, sat his brother. Eli tossed his keys on the sideboard and made his way into the kitchen. He grabbed two sodas before joining Samson. He didn’t sit, but tossed one of the sodas in Sam's direction. Samson caught it one-handed.

“No. She's not in Malibu, and she's not at her mother’s. I can’t find her.” He glared at his brother. “You want to tell me what you’re doing here? How'd you get in?”

Sam nodded and hung his head as he played with the tab of the can. “Already forgot you gave me the key to this place? Nice.” Then more contrite, he added, “Damn, Eli, I'm sorry I let shit get so fucked up for you. I feel completely responsible.”

Eli cracked his neck. As much as he would like to blame Samson for all the trouble he was in, Jessica was right; he could have pulled the plug at any time. Could have told her the truth from the start, but he didn't. He'd made the choices not to. “Yeah, well, it's not your fault. I fucked it up every way I could think of.”

Samson narrowed his eyes. “You going to do the Atlas bit here? You put everything on your shoulders again, man?”

Eli barked out a mirthless chuckle. “Nope, this time I'm going to share some of the blame.”

“Eli, I'm so fucking sorry I kissed her. I shouldn’t have, and I didn't at first, but then I was still so fucking mad at you for thinking I'd relapse like that and not call Jocelyn or you. It sucked. And there she was kissing me, and it sort of happened.”

“It sort of happened? Story of your fucking life. You know what? Fuck you, Samson.”

“No, fuck you, Elijah. It’s not like I wanted this to happen.”

“Yeah, your favors have a way of costing me.”

Sam pushed to his feet and glared. “Dude, ever since we were kids, you had this way about you. Like you always had to take care of me or something. Maybe you should have let me figure some things out for myself.”

“Oh, yeah, and stood by while that landed you in the morgue?”

Samson scrubbed at the day-old beard growing in on his jaw. “I will always be grateful to you for saving my life, but it's my life. You have to let me live it. You’re not responsible for my future. You’re not responsible if I fuck up. You're not responsible for getting me my next job. You don’t have to hold it all together. If I fall down, I’ll get back up. That's kind of the thing about recovery. I have to learn how to get back up.”

“Enough, Samson.”

“No, not enough, Eli. You keep thinking it's your job to keep me out of trouble, and it's not. Let me fail if I'm going to fail.”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because it's my fault you ended up where you did. I was supposed to look out for you, and I didn't. I was a jealous and self-centered little shit. When I looked up, you were already so far gone. I should have helped you sooner. All those times you called, and I was too busy with my own shit.”

Sam let his arms fall to his sides as he shook his head. “No, Eli, the only person to blame was Dad and myself. You had nothing to do with it. The old man fucked me up bad not being able to see you or Mom. You weren't responsible for the divorce. You weren’t responsible for him being a gambling addict and con man. You have to let that shit go. It's been eating you alive for too long.”

Eli swallowed around the lump in his throat. “There has to be something I could have done differently.”

“No. Everything that happened was supposed to lead me to this spot. I'm alive and painting and happy. I have you, my family, and that's all that matters. I don’t want to look back. I