The smirk on his face could have easily been taken for a sneer; probably because it was. Far too much to drink and having to hear about his sisters-- activities with her fascinating detective had had him on edge. He shouldnât have come when she asked, he should have known that heâd be on the back burner while she played with her little toy.Â
Jealous, that is what he was, wishing it was himself on her arm for the evening, wishing it was him that sheâd kiss goodnight. To be able to see how the sun bounced off those golden waves in the morning. All thoughts totally unhealthy, but Jim had come to accept that little issue of his long ago. Perhaps it was because she reminded him so much of their mother, or maybe it was because of all the women out there, none of them could even begin to love him except for Jamie. And that is what people longed for in life, wasnât it? Someone to retire with, to accept them for who they were, for better and especially in Jimâs case, for worse.Â
He scoffed, finally turning to face her, to empty that ache that had been building in his chest for so fucking long. âYou donât get it, do you? Keep playing me like a fiddle until all the strings are broken.â His face scrunched and Jim shook his head, âBut nahhhh-- Jimmy loves me, Jimmy is such fun.â
The glass hit the wall behind her, shattering and leaving a dripping stain behind. Jimâs dark eyes intensifying, nearly black with anger. âNO MORE GAMES, JAMIE, NOT WITH ME.â Hand covering his face, Jim let out a breath, âHe canât--- he doesnât love you. He wont ever. Not like I do.â