Page 36 of The Other Side of Green

She clamped her lips together.

“All that will happen is that a tape of your awful admissions interview will come out, and they will say, ‘But look, we gave a chance to someone who didn’t deserve it. We wanted to help.’

“If that tape comes out? How do you even know there’s a tape anyway? Then it will show they gave me the scholarship for my skin, which they shouldn’t have done. I didn’t deserve it.”

“And you want to go back knowing that’s the case, that you didn’t earn it?”

“No!”

“Then what?”

“It would have been mine, if I hadn’t been broken.”

“But you were, because of me.”

Lyra stepped back. “I can still play. I’ll play better than ever to prove my worth.”

I caught her hand, wheeling her back in. “Lyra, we can still leave, go anywhere, be anyone.”

“No, Jack.”

I cupped her face with my hand, my thumb brushing her cheek as she inhaled a ragged breath. “You told me you loved me. That wasn’t a lie.”

Her gaze met mine. “It wasn’t.”

“So? Come on. I’ve come back for you, faced the past for you. I’ve talked with your brother for you.” Her lips curled into a small smile.

“I’m sure you guys can be friends again.”

My mouth fell open. “You think I want to be his friend again, after what he did?”

“Jack, I think he was trying to protect you.”

“You, you mean. His precious baby sister.”

Lyra staggered back. “That’s the way it should be.”

I shook my head. “Go away, Lyra, I don’t need you to nurse me anymore.”

“Jack—”

“Go away.” I pushed her back, making her fall off balance. I really was my father’s son. I’d never be able to escape it. “Maybe he was right to protect you from me. Maybe he saw what I would be.”

“Jack—”

“Go away.” My roar ripped through my chest and Lyra turned and fled, the bathroom door banging shut behind her. I turned and faced the monster in the mirror, angling my face in the light.

I switched on the shower.

I needed a shower and then I damn well needed a drink.

Riley’s on 3rd hadn’t changed. Still the same faded pictures of jazz players marching the streets. I curled my fingers around my cool glass on the bar, watching the ice cubes clink together.

“You drinking that or making love to it?” I looked up at the barman, for one split second expecting it to be Evan.

Stupid that I missed that bastard more than I thought. It had only been a couple of days but my life in Boston now seemed an age ago.

I lifted the glass and threw the bourbon back, closing my eyes to the burning hit. When I opened them again the glass was already refilled.