Before The Last Grain

Chapter 9

The moonlight pierces through the thick clouds and casts her shadow on the white sheet. Natasha wakes up to a cool, empty space next under her stretched hand. Her hand gently squeezes Steve's pillow. Her eyelids crack open as memories from the evening slowly roll over her like a wave.

She sits up and loosely wraps the sheet around her chest. She leaves the bedroom and wanders across the dimly lit lounge with a deepening frown.

She finally catches sight of Steve's, broad and bare figure, sitting outside on the terrace. She walks over, delicately slides the glass door open and her small feet tread over the wooden floor. Steve does not react.

"Steve?" she says but his gaze fixedly contemplates the bright Manhattan skyline across the river.

She comes to sit next to him and brushes his naked arm. "Are you okay? Aren't you cold?"

He pouts with a noticeable resigned expression. "I woke up with those old memories I thought I was over."

She shifts closer. "You can tell me."

His face suddenly bears the weight of guilt. "When I told you Bucky and I have drifted apart, it's actually complicated than that." He trails off and gulps down past tears. "I was jealous of him. Probably still am."

He turns to look at her, almost daring her to judge him; her eyes remain forbearing.

"When my mother married his father, we were both happy to find a brother. He became a big brother to him, and I became a brother to him. We were similar and yet different — he was this unfettered, loud version of me. When we both walked into a room, he was the one people noticed. James was well aware of that and did his best to be protective and supportive of me. We had so many things in common and, with time, we discovered we even shared similar dreams. The biggest one being our interest in art. Of course, he had no problem displaying his skills while I kept mine hidden. His talent grew along with his confidence over the years while I kept practicing mine behind closed doors. Of course, Bucky knew that. When our parents came one day offering James a chance to join a special Art course, I watched, hoping he would ask I join too. But he didn't. My mother had always wanted to have an artist in the family and she finally did — the course was her idea. After that, I gave up on Bucky and my dream to live off our art and left it to him. Then I decided I would study Law, next thing she grew closer to Bucky and slipped away from me. I know she still loved me of course, but she admired him. They all did. When I got accepted into Law school, I quickly left the family house because I couldn't bear the idea of feeling less than. After all those years, whenever we're all gathered, I can't help thinking that he took my mom."

Steve pauses and takes a heavy breath. "And now he's after you. I guess this has revived old wounds."

She shakes her head and reaches for his hand. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea you feel this way. And I'm sorry about what happened between you and James. You had every right to feel the way he made you feel. Does Sarah know?"

"It would hurt her if she ever found out it's how I felt. And it's been so long anyways."

"I get it," Natasha answers softly as she strokes the side of his face, over to his shoulder and down his arm. "I'm glad you told me."

His eyelids close heavily and he inhales deeply. "I guess the reason I'm telling you now is because I'm jealous again. He got you."

Natasha frowns. She almost stammers her next words, "What do you mean?"

He clasps his hands together and his blue eyes take a shade of steel.

"What happened tonight with Bucky?"