sure she could stand going back to Jadon’s house under these circumstances, although the idea of going to her small apartment wasn’t much better. “Call me when you get back into town.”
“I will.” There was another pause, as if he wanted to say something more, but he only added, “Take care.”
She closed her eyes and whispered, “You, too,” before hanging up the phone.
The bitter taste of resentment nearly choked her. She buried her face in her hands to stave off the threat of tears burning the back of her throat. She should be glad he’d called her this time, instead of simply taking off without a word, but she wasn’t.
Because Jadon hadn’t mentioned anything about either of his daughters.
He’d been to the nursery earlier that morning but had left without knowing Gretchen had taken a turn for the better. From the way Dr. Downer had found her to give her the update on Gretchen, she knew he hadn’t already talked to Jadon over the phone.
For all Jadon knew, his tiny daughter could still be fighting for her life.
And she couldn’t believe his family crisis could be more important than his own daughter.
JADON closed his cell phone, feeling sick to his stomach. Could his brother’s timing be any worse? Alyssa was upset, not that he could blame her. He should have discussed everything with her sooner.
Although reliving the past hadn’t been much of a priority, not with everything going on in the present.
He’d gotten up early and had gone to the nursery to check on Gretchen, but then his mother had called. He didn’t want his mother to be hurt by Jack’s outbursts like she had in the past, so he’d promised to come, even though he’d wanted to stay with Alyssa and Gretchen. But what choice did he have?
Jack needed him. He’d wanted to refuse to rush to the rescue, but he couldn’t ignore Jack’s problems.
Not when they were inadvertently at least partially his fault.
His mother lived in the same small house they’d grown up in, located in the rural part of Madison, Wisconsin. She’d stayed after she and his father had divorced. The trip took a couple of hours by car. When he finally pulled into his mother’s driveway, he was shocked to discover there were several cars there. Jack’s for one. But what about the others?
When he strode up to his house, he was even more surprised to recognize his father standing beside his mother. From the way they were talking, his father had just arrived, too.
His parents had split up when he and Jack had been teenagers, the strain of Jack’s illness having been too much to hold their marriage together. Jadon hadn’t seen his father in years, especially after he’d remarried. His new stepmother hadn’t liked dealing with Jack’s illness either.
So why was he back? He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t have time to sort it all out now. His mother stood in the kitchen, obviously upset, wringing her hands.
“Where is he?” he asked, barely glancing at his father.
“Upstairs. He’s locked himself in your old bedroom.”
He raked her with a gaze, searching for any sign of injury. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine.” His mother’s strain was evident in her falsely positive tone. “But I’m worried about him, Jadon. He seemed to be doing so well, and now this.”
“I know. I’ll go up there to try talking to him, but you’ll have to call the police, just in case.”
Clearly his mother didn’t like that idea. He’d told her to call the police earlier, too, when she’d first called him, but she hadn’t listened.
“I don’t want him to be arrested again,” she protested in a low voice.
He suppressed a sigh. “Neither do I, but we may need them to help control him.” Last time Jack had almost killed himself, which was bad enough. But his unpredictable behavior was also a threat to those around him. Jadon wasn’t taking any chances.
His father was surprisingly silent during their brief conversation, but now he stood and headed for the phone. “I’ll call the police.”
Grateful, Jadon gave him a brief nod and then headed upstairs, hearing thuds coming from their old bedroom as Jack paced. His brother always paced when he was upset. Jadon heard Jack talking to himself, sounding agitated and making threats.
A wave of helplessness washed over him. None of this was Jack’s fault, not really. His brother was sick with a mental illness. It just didn’t seem fair that some people struggled with so much inner turmoil while others didn’t.
There was a crash as something hit the floor. Oh, boy. He drew a deep breath and knocked at the door. “Jack? It’s me, Jadon. I’m here to help. Unlock the door and let me in.”
Jack’s voice got louder. “No. Leave me alone. Just leave me the hell alone.”
Jadon pressed his palm flat against the door, knowing he could break through the flimsy frame with a solid kick if he had to. But that would only rile his brother, putting him on the defensive. He maintained his calm approach. “Jack, please. I want to help. Let me in.”
There was no answer, but then the door swung open and his identical twin stood there regarding him with bloodshot eyes. Jack looked awful. He obviously hadn’t shaved in days, and his wrinkled clothes looked as if he’d slept in them. Yet there was enough of a resemblance that it was like looking at himself in the mirror, except for the tortured expression branded deep in his brother’s eyes.
“You can’t help. You’re never here to help.”
Bull’s-eye. The barb hit deep. Guilt clogged his throat. Jack was right. He did keep leaving, returning to Cedar Bluff because he wanted a normal life. At his brother’s expense. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m here now. I can help you.” Jadon kept his tone calm and reassuring. “Everything is going to be fine.”
“It’s not fine.” Jack spun away, his movements jerky and agitated. “It’s bad, Jadon. The voices are bad. Telling me to do bad things.”
His heart sank. The voices were back. The same voices that had told Jack to set his apartment building on fire four months ago. He couldn’t imagine how awful it must be for Jack to be tormented like this. What had happened to the new medication regime that had been working so well?
“You’re not a bad person, Jack. You’re tired and scared. I’m here to keep you safe. Come with me so we can go back to the hospital and get some help.”
“No!” Jack swept his arm across the top of the dresser, sending various picture frames and sports memorabilia crashing to the floor. “You don’t understand what it’s like. I’m not going back to the hospital.”
Once the police arrived his brother would have no choice. It was a pattern that had repeated itself too many times to count. He tried to hang
