I had no idea what Jackson’s sudden interest in my love life was, or why he couldn’t have been more of a big brother before. Like when jerks—friends of his—were talking trash about me, spreading rumors that still followed me four years later. But if this outburst cost me Abrahem, Jackson would have hell to pay.
Abe swore he was cool with it, but he was different after the incident. There was no chance he was coming into my room again, and when we left together he asked me two or three times if my family was okay with it. The thing was I only saw Jackson when he came home to crash, change, or he needed something, and I occasionally saw my dad when he was on his way out in the mornings. They would have to know I exist to be okay with anything I did, and I was not going to start living my life differently.
If Jackson was ever home when Abe came over, he asked for permission to see me or leave with me. I hated it. Jackson wasn’t that much older than me, and I took care of him! Why did I need his permission to do anything? I’d mentioned this more than once, but Abe said he was doing the right thing.