Right Move (Clean Slate Ranch #6) - A.M. Arthur Page 0,121

it. His dark brown eyes often seemed to be smiling at him, even when things were serious, like right now.

He was carrying a bamboo tray loaded down with two shot glasses, a bottle of Kentucky bourbon and a bag of barbecue potato chips. He settled the tray on his magazine-covered coffee table, then poured them each a shot.

James sank onto the couch next to Nathan and accepted the glass. After a silent toast, he threw it back. The harsh, smoky liquid burned its way into his stomach.

Nathan refilled both glasses. “Does your mom know?”

“She’s the one who told me.” Grace had been sobbing when he answered his cell, and it took more than five minutes for him to understand what she’d been babbling. “The bastard is getting out.” The statement had punched him in the balls and tipped his world upside down.

“How is she?”

“Took it like a champ.”

“Liar.”

James downed the second shot, thankful for the burn. “She was a mess. I stopped by to bring her dinner, because she doesn’t feed herself when she gets depressed. She wouldn’t get out of bed. She still fucking blames herself for what happened to Laurie, and it’s been almost twenty years.”

“And you don’t?” Nathan shot him a pointed look before knocking back his second drink. He poured them both a third.

“I was her big brother.” James picked up the shot glass, mesmerized by the amber liquid. His mind was soft again, a gentle fuzziness very different from earlier. The fuzz wrapped around him like silk, coddling him, relaxing his tongue because this was Nathan, and Nathan was safe.

Nathan is everything. “I didn’t protect Laurie.”

“Yes, Jay, you did. You stopped Stephen that day. You stopped it from happening again.”

His eyes burned. “Shouldn’t have happened in the first place. Fucking piece of shit.” Third shot down the hatch. A fourth sounded nice, but his hands were shaking and he’d already fucked up once tonight because he’d drunk too much.

Nathan pried the shot glass out of his hand, then angled his body toward him and put a warm hand on his knee. “The only person to blame for what Price did to your sister is Price. He pretended to love your mother. He pretended to be a friend to you and Laurie. He violated your trust because he’s a sick fucking pervert who deserves to rot for touching her.”

“I wish I’d killed him.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I could have. A quarter-inch to the left, and I’d have killed him. The doctor said so.” James flinched away from the memories bombarding his liquor-pickled brain. Coming home from tenth grade early because it was a half day. Stephen’s car in the driveway when he should be at work. Laurie had stayed home with a sick stomach, so he went to check on her right away, only to find Stephen in her room. In her bed. On top of her.

A harsh noise tore from his throat, leaving it raw. His eyes stung, and he blinked against furious tears. “After I left Mom’s place, I headed home and got dressed up for the Pot. I wanted to dance and to get laid, and I thought if I could channel my emotions into that, then it wouldn’t hurt so much.” He sounded hoarse, as if he’d gargled sand.

“What happened at the Pot?”

“I targeted my guy, danced and drank way more than I should have.” Shouldn’t have been drinking at all. “I practically dragged him into a bathroom stall.” Douche bag. “Sucked him off. After, I wanted to fuck.”

James’s throat hurt as though the words themselves were laced with razor wire. “I shoved him against the wall. He started protesting, and I was too drunk to really hear him at first. Then he freaked and said no and I finally heard him. I stopped, but fucking Christ, Nate.”

The hand on his knee squeezed. “You stopped.”

He never had to explain things to Nathan because Nathan always got it. And he never got weird when James talked about sex or other non-straight-guy things, because that was Nathan. “What if I hadn’t? I was so close to doing it. So fucking out of my mind I almost—”

“You. Stopped. You didn’t do anything irreversible. You definitely owe him one major apology, but you didn’t have sex with him against his will.”

Nathan’s hand flew from his knee to his cheek. “You did not become Price tonight, you hear me? You’re still you, Jay. You’re you.”

James shuddered. Arms wrapped around him, pulling him forward, and James went. He pressed his