He held out his hand, his expression dead serious.
"Phone? Jake… don't be mean…"
"I'm not being mean. I'm fixing this." He wiggled his fingers impatiently. "You think I'm gonna let my best friend think I hate him forever? He's a dumbass, but he's my dumbass. Now give me the phone. Trust me."
His gaze was firm, leaving no room for argument. It was the look he got when he had decided on a course of action. But this time, it wasn't aimed at me in anger; it was for me.
"Here…" I slowly gave him my phone, my fingers brushing against his for a second. "…Don't be too harsh, okay?"
He took the phone from me, his large fingers seeming to engulf the small device. He didn't look at me, his focus entirely on the screen as he navigated to Oliver's contact information. He didn't text. He hit the call button and immediately put it on speaker. It rang twice.
"Clara?" Oliver's voice was a strained, worried whisper, clearly not expecting a call from my phone. "Is everything okay?"
Jake didn't give Oliver a chance to say another word. His voice was a low, commanding growl. "You have thirty seconds to get your ass over here."
Then he hung up, tossing the phone back onto my bed. He looked at me, his face grim, and crossed his arms. "Let's see how much he really likes you."
"...So this is a test?" I folded my arms too, mirroring him. "Alright. Let's see." I sat beside him.
He grunted in acknowledgment, not taking his eyes off the door. I sat down beside him on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under our combined weight. The silence returned, but now it was one of anticipation. We both sat there, side by side, united in a strange, tense truce. The minutes stretched out, feeling like hours.
Then, a car screeched to a halt outside. A car door slammed. Heavy, frantic footsteps pounded up the front walkway. There was no knock. The front door burst open, followed by the sound of someone taking the stairs two at a time.
Oliver appeared in the doorway, breathless and wild-eyed, his chest heaving. He looked from me to Jake and back again, his face pale with panic. "What happened? Clara, are you alright? Is he—"
He cut himself off as his brain finally processed the scene: me and Jake, sitting calmly on the bed. No tears. No blood. Just two siblings, waiting.
Jake rose slowly to his feet, a veritable mountain of a man blocking the doorway. He looked Oliver up and down, his expression grim. "You got here fast." It was a simple observation, but it hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He took a step forward, and Oliver instinctively flinched, bracing himself.
"So. You love my sister."
I pressed myself slightly behind Jake, staying quiet. Oliver had stormed in, but I didn't say a word. Part of me was annoyed at him for leaving me alone earlier, but another part… felt a little relieved.
Oliver flinched under Jake's unwavering gaze. I stayed perfectly still, hidden behind Jake, watching it all unfold like popcorn. I didn't speak—I just observed, letting Jake handle everything. This was his moment. His test.
Good, I thought to myself. Jake… you know I'm here, but today… you take care of it. I'm just going to enjoy the show.
Oliver swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He didn't break eye contact. His chest was still heaving, but his voice, when he spoke, was steady and clear. "Yes. I do. More than anything."
He answered without hesitation. There was no fear in the words, only conviction. His eyes flicked past Jake's shoulder for a split second, trying to see me, but Jake's bulk blocked his view completely. His gaze snapped back to Jake's, resolute.
Jake held Oliver's gaze for a long, heavy moment. He was searching for something—a flicker of doubt, a hint of insincerity. He found none. A long, slow breath escaped him. He didn't move out of the way, but the rigid line of his shoulders softened almost imperceptibly.
"If you hurt her, I'll break every bone in your body. Then I will find a way to break them again. We clear?"
A wave of relief so profound it was almost dizzying washed over Oliver's face. He noded quickly, his expression deadly serious. "Crystal clear. I would expect nothing less."
Jake stared at him for one more second, then he finally, finally, gave a single, sharp nod. He stepped aside, revealing me sitting on the bed. He turned and walked over to his desk chair, dropped into it, and crossed his arms, his face set in a stony but no longer murderous expression. The test was over. The stage was now Oliver's.
Oliver appeared in the doorway, breathless and wild-eyed, his chest heaving as if he had run miles to get here. He looked like a man who had just navigated a battlefield to find the only thing that mattered.
The moment Jake stepped aside, Oliver's world narrowed to just me. He didn't see the room; he didn't even seem to process Jake's presence anymore. He just stared, his face pale with a fear I'd never seen on him before. His lips trembled for a split second, searching every inch of my face as if to reassure himself I wasn't a ghost—that I was real, and I was unharmed.
The terror and adrenaline slowly drained from his face, replaced by a look of such raw, aching relief that it was almost painful to witness.
"Clara..."
His voice was just a broken breath, a whisper that carried everything he had been too afraid to say.
"Hey..."
His voice was just a breath. He closed the distance in two quick strides, dropping to his knees in front of me on the floor. He gently took my hands in his, his touch both a question and a plea. He looked up at me, his gaze full of apology and a fierce, desperate love.
"I am so, so sorry I left. Forgive me?"