Page 62 of Brown Sugar

Jax’s death wasn’t his fault. It was a terrible tragedy, but he can’t go on blaming himself…

“I’ll help you,” I say. “I’ll go with you to his room. C’mon.”

Grabbing the remote, I pause the movie and slide out of Tyson’s lap. I hold out my hand for him to take. He takes a second before he accepts, folding my hand within his. He gets up off the couch, and together we head upstairs to his brother’s old bedroom.

I lead us inside, flicking on the light and taking in the space. Dust has collected on the furniture and the air in the room feels dry and stuffy. It’s no wonder if it’s been almost a year since Tyson’s set foot inside here.

“Should we grab a box to choose some of his things?”

“Yeah… alright. We can make one for our mother and aunt.”

We work mostly in silence. We set two boxes in the middle of the room and Tyson carefully selects what items to pack inside. I tape up the boxes and jot down the addresses he’s given for his mother and aunt.

Every so often, I glance up and notice Tyson peering at an item as if lost in the past. Mourning his brother. Cherishing an old memory.

I stand up from where I’ve been sitting on the floor and wrap my arms around his waist. My head rests against his broad back as I hope the embrace helps in some way.

“Have you ever thought about…” I say slowly, “keeping some of his favorite things for yourself? And maybe the rest…”

“Pack it up. Donate,” he says as if it’s already a thought on his mind. He sighs. “I was supposed to do that months ago. Just haven’t been able to bring myself to.”

“We can do it together. An extra pair of hands helps.”

“Princess, this isn’t your concern?—”

“Damn if it isn’t. Tyson, you’ve spent weeks keeping me safe and alive. Literally. Let me repay the favor. Let me help with this. It’s important and I want to.”

“Alright. Might be better than going at it alone. When I finally got around to it.”

“Tell me more about him. I’d like to hear more if you want to share.”

I mean it. I stroke Tyson’s back in comfort and listen patiently as he grants my wish. He collects more empty boxes from a hall closet, and as we set to packing up more things, he begins telling me about his younger brother.

Childhood stories. Funny moments that still make him laugh. Accomplishments his brother achieved in his short twenty-one years of life.

“It was unexpected,” Tyson says of his brother’s passing. His expression is heavy and riddled with unmistakable grief. “He was young. Healthy. He felt invincible. But he wanted to follow in my footsteps and… and he enlisted in the Marines. I was so proud. Remember his graduation from basic training like it was yesterday.

“He was still in training when it happened. A buddy of his had been stranded one night on the side of the road. Jax being Jax, he went out to help him. Some piece of shit drunk driver clipped both of them. They… he… didn’t survive.”

I go to him, sliding my arms around his wide, muscled form in an embrace. “I’m so sorry, Tyson… I can’t even begin to imagine…”

“I should’ve been around. Maybe I could’ve gone out with him that night to help his buddy,” he says with a hard swallow. “But I was too busy away on a job. I received the call at three in the morning.”

“You couldn’t have done anything. It was out of your control. Sometimes…” I sigh, hugging him as tightly as I can. “Sometimes terrible people do terrible things to good people like you and Jax.”

He squeezes me back out of appreciation. “Thanks, princess. That means a lot coming from you. You know you’re the first person I’ve told about it? Other than family. The funny thing is, pretty sure if Jax met you… he’d approve.”

He goes on to tell me about how Jax was considered the ‘cool’ brother by many who knew them while he was the grumpy loner. He laughs recalling how everyone liked his brother better than him, like he misses him so much, he’d give anything to hear it again.

My heart feels full taking it in. Learning more about the man who I’ve slowly begun to fall for and the family that means so much to him.

The hour’s nearing midnight by the time we’re done. We tape up the last box and I reach for Tyson’s hand, feeling closer to him than I ever did Shawn.

He peers down at me, his dark eyes lit with affection. “Thanks, princess. You didn’t have to.”

I squeeze his hand and lean against his solid frame. “Yes, I did.”

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