Текст книги "Bang"

Автор книги: E. K. Blair

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

I WATCH AS Bennett moves around the bedroom, getting dressed in his three-piece suit to go in to the office for the day. He arrived late a couple nights ago and as I presumed, his schedule is now packed with travel after the purchase he just made. Even though he’s home now, he’s been living at the office before he heads out again at the end of this week.

The chill in the air is getting to me, and I sink down into the bed and further under the covers.

“Do you need me to adjust the thermostat?” Bennett asks me as he nears my side of the bed.

“Are you not cold?”

He sits on the mattress beside me, leans down to kiss my nose, and then smiles.

“What?” I ask as he pulls away.

“Your nose is cold. Come here.”

I sit up, and he wraps me in his arms in an attempt to warm me up. Slipping my arms around his waist, under his suit coat, I curl into him.

“I missed this,” I breathe. “Having you—here—with me.”

“I know. I missed it too,” he says, moving back to look into my eyes. “You can always come with me, you know? You don’t have to be alone.”

“I know, but Declan has already scheduled appointments out with vendors for the party. I’ll be busy for the next few weeks.”

“How did your visit with the florist go the other day?” he asks.

Running my hand along his silk tie, I tell him, “It went well. I think we got nearly everything picked out.”

“Good.”

He combs his fingers through my hair and leans in to kiss me. Slow and soft, taking his time. Bennett tends to be overly affectionate after he returns from a trip, and I never deny him, so I shift up to my knees and hold his face in my hands. When he grips my hips, clutching onto the satin of my slip gown, I take over his mouth, urging him on. He pulls me down atop his lap, and his growing cock presses against me as I grind my hips into him.

“God, baby. I can’t get enough of you,” he mumbles against my neck, between his gentle kisses.

“You want me?”

“I always want you,” he tells me. “But you’re gonna make me late. I’ve got a meeting.”

Grinning at him, I say, “I’ll be fast,” before slipping off his lap and onto my knees on the floor beside the bed. Quickly working my hands, I undo his slacks and yank them down. And as he sits on the edge of the bed, I wrap my lips around his dick and suck him off while he moans my name.

Once fully satisfied, he kisses me deeply when I walk him to the door before he leaves.

“I hate that I have to leave when all I want is to make love to you all day.”

The ringing of my cell interrupts us, and he waits while I grab it off the kitchen counter and answer.

“Hello?”

“Nina, it’s Declan.”

“Hi.”

“I was wondering if you could stop by the hotel later today. Betty, from Marguerite Gardens, is having a few arrangements delivered for you to look at,” he says.

“Um . . . sure. That shouldn’t be a problem at all. What time would be good?”

“They should be delivered by noon.”

“Okay, I’ll swing by later then,” I tell him before we hang up.

“Who was that?” Bennett asks when I walk back over to him.

“Declan. The florist is sending over some sample arrangements for me to look at later today, so I’ll just take one of the cars to the hotel if Baldwin is going to be with you.”

“You sure?”

Lifting up on my toes, I give him a little kiss. “I’m sure.”

“I’ll call you when I leave the office. How about I take you out for a nice dinner at Everest tonight?”

“Sounds perfect,” I say with a smile.

He runs his thumb down my lips and then gives my chin a little pinch, saying, “Have a good day, okay?”

“You too.”

As soon as he leaves, I walk into the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove, and while I wait for it to boil, I look over to the dining room table. The extravagant vase of purple roses that Bennett gave me when he got home last night sits in the center of the table. The sight causes a physical reaction inside of me. A twisting in my gut as I grit my teeth. I hate purple. I told him it was my favorite though, so when he gives me flowers, his way of showering me with affection, it only reminds me of everything I hate. Purple walls flash in my mind, and it only reinforces my steel wall. Bennett is everything a husband should be, so it was essential that I create fissures within him. Purple flowers being one of them.

The squealing whistle of the kettle snaps me out of the purple and into the present. I fix my tea and make my way into the bedroom to get ready for the day. Knowing I’m going to be seeing Declan, I want to look nice, so I set my mug down on the center island in my closet and start sorting through my clothes. Selecting a simple black shift dress, I pair it with patent black heels and my white, wool, knee-length coat.

After a slow morning getting ready and taking a phone call from Jacqueline to schedule a lunch date with the girls, I grab my purse and head down to the parking garage. It takes a while to get to the hotel with the hectic lunch traffic in the loop, but when I arrive, the valet takes my car and I make my way back to Declan’s office.

When I approach his door, I can hear his voice on the other side. He sounds angry, barking orders with whoever he must be on the phone with because it’s only Declan’s voice I hear. I wait, and when I notice the conversation has ended, I give the door a couple light taps.

“Come in,” he calls.

Opening the door, his focus is on his laptop and nothing else as he’s clicking away at the keyboard.

“Bad time?” I question hesitantly, and when he hears my voice, he flicks his eyes my way and swivels his chair away from his computer to face me. “I can come back.”

“No,” he simply states as he stands up and walks towards me, taking me by the elbow and turning me to walk with him. “This way.”

His snippy attitude the other day at the florist was irritating, but for some reason, right now, it doesn’t have that effect on me, figuring that whoever he was just speaking to is the culprit of his mood, and not me. I follow him out of his office and down to an opulent private dining room that’s currently free of people. He opens the double-etched glass doors and leads me into the dark room, dimly lit by the sparse chandeliers. Towards the back of the dining space, there is a secluded table that’s covered in burnt orange and white flowers with dark, rich greenery. Some accented with spiral grapevines and others darkened with blackened moss.

Declan still has a hold on my arm when we walk over to the table.

“I’m impressed,” I say, and it’s then that he releases me. When I look at him, I notice his jaw flex as he grinds his teeth. His focus is on the table and not me, so it’s with a soft voice, I speak. “Declan?” Looking over at me, I ask, “Are you sure this isn’t a bad time? I can go.”

He relaxes his face and runs his hand behind his neck and down along his lightly stubbled jaw. Releasing a sigh, he says, “Stay.”

Nodding my head, I turn away and take a step over to the arrangements and begin studying each one. There are five, each ornate and exquisitely put together. The designs unique and exactly what I had in mind.

I still when I feel Declan’s fingers graze the sides of my neck, and as I turn my head to see him standing right behind me, he moves his hands to the collar of my coat, and starts to slip it off my shoulders. Adjusting myself, I allow him to take my coat and watch as he lays it across the back of a chair.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“What do you think?”

Keeping my eyes on him, I don’t answer immediately. I want the contact to see how he responds. It doesn’t take long for a sexy grin to cross his face.

“They’re perfect. I’m not sure how to pick one over the other.”

“So take them all,” he says.

“Take them all?”

“Why not? Who says you have to choose?”

“Isn’t there always a choice?” I ask with an undertone that states we’re talking about more than just flowers.

“Not when you’re a Vanderwal.”

With superficial offense, I say, “Is that what you think? That because of my name I simply take what I want?” He quirks a brow without saying anything, and I add, “Is that what you do? Because correct me if I’m wrong, but the McKinnon name sure isn’t one that people are not aware of.”

“Are we talking personal or business?” he questions.

“Business is personal when it belongs to you, and last time I checked, it’s your name that robes this hotel.”

He walks over to one of the other tables and takes a seat. Leaning back and resting one of his arms on the table, he says, “Yes. I take what I want.”

I stay put, standing by the flowers, and question, “In which case?”

“In all cases. Now stop standing there and sit with me.”

“Is this you taking?”

With a smile that he plays so well, he says, “Are you up for grabs?”

“No,” I state curtly. “And these games you tend to enjoy playing with me are getting old, and frankly, I don’t enjoy being toyed with as if I’m here solely for your entertainment. So again, cut the shit, Declan.” I grab my coat and start walking towards the door, hoping he makes the move I’m goading him into.

His hand grips the top of mine as soon as it hits the door handle, and I freeze, keeping my head down.

“Don’t go,” he says, and I remain silent as he continues to speak. “You’re not a toy, Nina, and I apologize if I made you feel that way.”

“So what is this?”

“This is me, simply wanting to get to know you,” he says, and when I look at him, he adds, “You say you don’t have friends, right?”

Turning my head away from him to avoid eye contact, he says, “Everyone deserves a friend, Nina. Even you.”

“And you think you’re gonna fill that void?” I ask, looking back at him. “What makes you think I need that?”

“Tell me then, who do you talk to about the things you can’t with your husband?”

I pull my hand out from under his and move to face him. “Who do you talk to?”

Silence.

“You expect me to just put myself out there when I don’t know anything about you? And what do you give me in return, huh?” I question.

“The same,” he answers. “So let’s start now. Before you knocked on my door a few minutes ago, I was on the phone with my father. He was being a fuckin’ knob as always, ridiculing me for decisions I’m making that he doesn’t have a say in, and it drives him crazy to not hold the power in this situation. So there you go, my father’s a bastard to me.”

His eyes are sharp as he says this, the intensity prevalent, and I feel like I just made progress. But I don’t want him pissed right now, so I break the tension, and make him smile when I tease, “A fuckin’ knob? Is this some Scottish insult you guys throw around because I’ve never heard anyone call someone a knob before?”

“Yeah, darling, it is, but if you prefer something more authentic, I can call him a fannybawbag, but then to the random American, I’d probably just sound like a pussy.”

I laugh at his statement, but let it fall off my lips as I look down at my feet and quiet myself.

“What is it, Nina?” he asks, taking note of my shift in mood. When I don’t immediately respond, he takes my hand, holding it in his as he walks me over to a table and we sit down. “Tell me something about you.”

“I don’t know what you’re wanting.”

“Anything. Just give me a piece,” he says, but when he sees me hesitate, he offers, “Tell me why you don’t have any friends.”

I release a breath, giving him what I know he wants to hear. “Because I’m not from this world. I’m not like those women, and . . .” I stall, taking a moment before adding in a hushed voice, “I’m afraid they’ll judge me, so I rather they just fear me because it’s easier that way.” When I say the words, the truth that lies within them surprises me.

“So you hide?”

“I suppose.”

“Are you lonely?”

“Do I seem lonely?” I question.

“In this moment? Yes.”

Deflecting, I turn it on him, asking, “And what about you? Are you lonely?”

“I moved here from New York when we broke ground on this place. I’ve been so wrapped up with getting everything fit for opening, so yeah, I’ve become lonely.”

“When did you leave Scotland?” I ask.

“I used to spend my summers here in the States when I was in university back home. I’d come here and work for my father, learning the ins and outs of the business, but I didn’t officially pack up and leave until after I graduated with my master’s,” he tells me. “That was seven years ago.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Scotland?”

With a nod of my head, he answers flatly, “Yes,” before asking, “Where are you from?”

“Kansas.”

“What brought you out here?”

I shift in my seat, marking my discomfort with answering, but before I can speak, my cell rings from inside my purse that’s lying on the table. Picking it up, I see it’s Bennett, and answer the call.

“Bennett, hi,” I say so Declan knows who I’m talking to.

“Just checking in. My meeting wrapped up a lot earlier than I expected, and I was hoping to see you,” he says sweetly.

“You just saw me.”

“So is this your way of saying you’re too busy?”

“No, I’m never too busy for you. Are you still at the office?” I ask as I cast a quick glance over at Declan and see the irritation in his eyes.

Good. Get jealous.

“Yeah. Are you hungry? I can have something delivered.”

“That sounds great, honey,” I tell him, playing up the sweetness just to pluck on Declan’s nerves, and I can tell it’s working by the tensed muscles in his neck and his set jaw. “I’m on my way now, okay?”

“All right. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Looking at Declan, I tell him, “I have to go meet Bennett.”

“Yeah, I heard,” he says, clipping his words.

I run my hand over his clenched fist that rests on the table, and say, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Talking to me.” Staring into his eyes, I tell him again, “Thank you,” so he can hear the sincerity in my words.

His hand relaxes under mine, and he flips it so that he’s now holding mine, and with a smile, says, “Let me walk you out.”

As he helps me with my coat, I finally feel like I’ve found the match I’ve been looking for. There have been a few men before Declan, but none that ever gave me the promise I feel he may have, so I let him hold on to my hand for a moment longer than I should as he walks me out to the valet who is waiting with my car.

I slip into the driver’s seat and Declan peers down, reminding me, “Friday is your appointment with the caterer. Four o’clock.”

“I’ve got it on my calendar.”

“You mean that paper calendar that doesn’t provide you with notifications or reminder alerts?” he teases.

Laughing at his dig, I say, “Yeah, that one. But apparently that’s all I need since you tend to do the reminding for me.”

“I’ll see you Friday then?”

“You’ll see me Friday,” I affirm before he closes my door, and I start driving over to the Willis Tower to meet my husband for a late lunch, all the while, feeling optimistic for the first time in a long time.

I SIT BY myself on the front steps of the school, waiting for Pike to meet me so that we can go home. He’s in trouble with one of his teachers again and has detention, so I take the hour to get all my tears out so that he doesn’t see me cry. Apparently I’ve lost track of time when I hear the metal doors bang open and pop my head up to see Pike walking down the steps. Quickly, I wipe my face, but he sees the tears anyway.

“Why’re you crying?” he asks, but I don’t say anything as I stand up and shrug my backpack on over my shoulders. “Elizabeth? What happened?”

“Nothing. Can we go now?”

“No. Not until you tell me why you’re upset.”

Hanging my head down, I kick a couple pebbles on the sidewalk, telling him, “The kids in my class make fun of me.”

“What did they say?” he asks in a hard voice.

“Doesn’t matter,” I tell him. I’ve been at this school for a few months now. Long enough to hit a growth spurt and no longer fit into the clothes my last foster family bought me, so now I’m stuck wearing clothes that Bobbi gets from thrift stores, and the other kids pick on me for the way I look.

“It matters to me,” he states, and when I look up at him, I say, “They call me names. Saying I look like I get my clothes from a garbage can.” I can feel the tears fall again as I continue, “They call me names to my face and then whisper and laugh at me.”

“Those kids are ass wipes.”

“I have no friends, Pike,” I say, crying. “I’m all alone, and I wanna go home. I miss my dad, and I wanna go home.”

In a second, he has me in his arms, and I wet his shirt with my tears. Every night I pray to a God I’m not sure even exists that I’ll wake up from this nightmare, but I’m still here. I’m almost nine years old and I haven’t seen my dad, heard his voice, felt his hugs—nothing—in nearly four years. I have a case worker who has only seen me twice since I’ve been here, and both times I cry and beg for her to take me to my dad, but she won’t. He’s too far away. I’m starting to believe that I’ll never get him back because waiting until I’m fourteen seems like forever.

“I’m sorry,” Pike eventually says as we stand on the sidewalk hugging. “But you’re not alone. You have me.”

He’s right. He’s the only one I have, but he’s a twelve-year-old boy, and next year he’ll be at the middle school, leaving me here alone. Alone with kids that don’t like me.

When he draws back and looks down at me, I cringe at the greenish tint left over from the black eye Carl gave him the other day. I learned fast that when Bobbi is around, Carl is semi-pleasant, but the moment she leaves, he starts drinking. I try to hide and be invisible when he drinks because he’s scary to be around. He yells a lot, and if Pike and I make too much noise, he gets really mad and usually hits us.

My first slap came a week after I got here. Bobbi left for the weekend and Carl was downstairs watching TV while I was upstairs. I found a radio on the top shelf of the closet in my room and was standing on a chair to get it down, but I slipped, causing the chair to tip over and the radio to crash to the floor. Carl busted through my door and saw the broken radio. Before I knew what was happening, he had yanked me up by the arm and slapped me across the face. The burning sting held to the skin of my cheek as I cried into my pillow afterward.

Pike and I take our time walking home, but when we get to our street, Bobbi’s car is gone, and only Carl’s truck is in front of the house. My stomach sinks. It’s the weekend, so I’m sure it’ll just be the three of us. Bobbi never tells us when she’s leaving, but lately, it seems to be all the time. She’s never home anymore.

“Just go straight to your room,” Pike tells me as we walk to the front door. “I’ll grab you a snack and bring it up.”

“Okay.”

But that wouldn’t happen. Instead, I was about to be introduced to a black hole that would claim another piece of my faith in human decency.

“Where the hell have you kids been?” Carl yells at us when we walk in, and the gravel in his voice makes me cling to Pike’s arm in fear.

“I had detention. I told Elizabeth to wait for me so she wouldn’t have to walk home alone,” Pike explains.

“You think I have all the goddamn time in the world to be wondering where you shits are?” he shouts and then grabs Pike by his shirt, ripping him out from my hold on his arm and shoving him away from me. He then gets in my face, stinking of beer and cigarettes.

“And you . . .” he spits as I start to cry, which does nothing but piss him off even more. “Fuck! Why are you always fuckin’ crying? I’m not gonna spend another weekend here with you listening to this shit.” When he lifts his dirty shirt and starts to unbuckle his belt, the chills of fear run rampant, spiking through my veins.

Pike bolts off the floor and goes after Carl, but it only takes one hit to knock Pike back, and Carl has his hand locked around my wrist as I scream and thrash. Suddenly, he has me lifted off the ground with a firm hold around my waist.

“Let me go!” I scream. “Stop! Let me go!”

I hear a crash, and when I look up through my tears, I see I’ve kicked over a couple of Bobbi’s ducks and have broken them.

“You little shit!” he yells, but it’s blended with Pike’s screams as well, and I panic. Sheer panic.

Screaming, crying, kicking, and the next thing I know, I’m being shoved into the small hallway closet. Carl throws me hard against the floor and then pulls me up by my wrists, using his belt to tie me up to the lower garment bar. Everything is a chaotic blur. Everyone is yelling, and the terror in my body is making it hard for me to breathe through my shrieking cries for help. I hear Pike, and I hold on to his voice when Carl’s fist smashes into my face.

SLAM.

LOCK.

Darkness.

“No! Let me out!” I cry. “Pike, help me! Let me out! Please!”

I can hear the beating Pike is getting now. Grunting. Heaving. Screaming. I twist and yank my wrists, trying to free myself, but the leather is biting into my skin, and I’m only hurting myself. The side of my face where he hit me pulses in beats of hot pain, and I fall onto my bottom with my arms pulled above my head and cry. I cry for what feels like years in the darkness.

My body grows tired and weak. Arms cold and tingly. I stand up, wedging myself between the wall and the garment rod, and I can feel the warmth flowing back through my arms to my hands. I try wriggling my fingers around to grab on to the strap of leather, but it’s too dark to see anything and my fingers are too small. What would I do anyway? Unstrap myself and walk out of here? Carl would kill me, so what’s the point in trying?

I listen to the faint sound of the TV in the living room as my head starts to droop. I’m so sleepy, but my arms hurt too bad when I sit, and I can’t sleep standing up. Not sure what to do, I remain wedged against the wall while I keep jerking out of sleep when my head falls. My mind is a haze. I try resting myself in the corner, but can’t find any comfortable position. Soon enough, I hear the sounds of the TV shut off and listen as Carl walks out of the room.

Oh my God. He’s not gonna let me out.

Tears fall, burning my skin on the way down my face, and I can only assume that Carl split my skin when he punched me, but nothing can stop them from falling down my cheeks.

WAKING UP, MY arms are freezing. I must have fallen because I’m now sitting on the floor. I have no idea if it’s night or day, and the urge to go to the bathroom is overwhelming. When I stand up to relieve the pain in my arms, I press my legs together to keep myself from peeing. I begin to cry, wondering what I’m supposed to do, but in that very moment, I hear Pike on the other side of the door.

“Elizabeth?” he whispers.

“Pike?” I whimper.

“Shh. Carl is sleeping.”

Trying to choke back my cries to stay quiet, I strain my words, “Please, Pike. Get me out.”

“I can’t,” he says. “The lock on this door works from the inside.”

“What?”

“Without the key, it can only be unlocked from inside,” he tells me.

“He’s got my hands tied. I can’t move, and I can’t see anything,” I say, beginning to panic, and he hears it.

“Don’t cry, okay? I’m here,” he tries assuring me.

My body begins to twitch as I clamp my legs tighter. “Pike?”

“Yeah?”

“I have to pee,” I tell him. “Really bad.”

“Fuck,” I hear in a muffled voice.

It’s then the pain and urgency take over, and I feel the warmth seep out, spreading through the fabric of my pants and trickling down my leg. Mortified. Embarrassed. I slip to the floor and begin weeping as quietly as I can.

“Are you okay?” he asks, but I don’t answer, I just continue to cry.

PIKE STAYED WITH me on the other side of the door for hours last night, talking to me, trying to keep me company. I must have fallen asleep again because I don’t remember him leaving. The TV is now on, so I know Carl is awake. My stomach has been growling, but I’m too scared to call out to him.

The time passes slowly, and I try to keep myself distracted by daydreaming, pretending I’m anywhere but here. I imagine I’m with my father, and we’re riding together on his white steed he used to tell me he had when we would play make-believe. We ride through the countryside and find ourselves in that magical forest. Carnegie is there, and we go hunting for berries. Some berries give us special powers, and some are just delicious to eat. When rain falls, we hunt for mushroom tops to hide under until the storm passes, and we meet fairy butterflies that fill the air with glitter as they fly.

My thoughts get interrupted often with the pain that surges through my hands and arms. I’m so tired but can’t find a way to get any real sleep, and now with my stomach knotting up from hunger, I find myself constantly shifting from sitting to standing.

“ELIZABETH?”

Pike’s voice brings me out of a light sleep, and I try to bend and flex my wrists as the leather cuts into my skin. “What time is it?” I ask.

“It’s Saturday night. Almost midnight,” he tells me.

“I’m hungry.”

“Hold on.”

I move to my feet to soothe my arms. I feel so gross with my pants soaked in my own pee. It stinks, and I know Carl is going to be pissed whenever he decides to let me out, which hopefully will be tomorrow since I have school on Monday. Plus, Bobbi should be coming home soon. At least I hope she is.

I hear Pike sliding something under the door. I lower to my knees, but didn’t think this through, because my hands are bound.

“Pike, I can’t get whatever you slipped under the door.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think,” he whispers. “Is there any way you can lean your head down to get it with your mouth?”

“No. The bar is too high.”

“Use your foot and try to push it back out,” he instructs. “I don’t want Carl to know I was trying to sneak you food.”

I shuffle my foot around, but can’t feel anything, so I just start sliding it against the floor and towards the door, hoping by chance I get it out. After a second, I hear, “Got it.”

“What was it?”

“Just a tortilla,” he says. “I heard Carl talking to Bobbi. She’s gonna be home tomorrow afternoon.”

“I feel sick.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m just so tired and hungry,” I tell him. “My arms hurt really bad. He’s got his belt pulled so tight around my wrists.”

“He’s a sick fuck.”

“Pike?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t leave me. You’re all I have.” The tears return, and I let them come without fighting it. I feel so hopeless.

“I’m not leaving you. You’re my sister. We’re not blood, but you’re my sister.” His words hit my heart, knowing he’s all the family I have. “Did I ever tell you about the time I fell off the roof at my last foster home?”

“No.”

I sit back down and listen as Pike tells me story after story. He even tells me about his mom, that she was a drug addict and that’s how he wound up in foster care when he was only two years old. Hours pass and he never stops talking to me, keeping me company until I drift off into a fit of restless sleep.

WHEN I HEAR someone messing with the door handle, I swiftly move to my feet, wedging against the wall. Light pierces my eyes, and I immediately close them.

“What the fuck is that smell?” Carl snarls as I slowly try to open my eyes against the stabbing light.

His hands start undoing the belt around my wrists. You’d think I’d be happy to be getting out of this closet, but I’m so tired that all I feel is numb.

“Did you piss yourself?” he asks with anger, and when I nod my head, he yells, “You better clean this shit up.”

The belt is finally off, and my hands are free. I grip my one wrist in my hand and stand there, scared to move, until he tells me to get out. Before I can go upstairs, he makes me clean the floor where I had been going to the bathroom. I finally look at my wrists to see they’re covered in blood from the broken skin where the leather was cutting into me.

When I get upstairs, Pike is sitting on my bed, but I’m too embarrassed, so I ignore him and go straight to the bathroom, shutting the door, and stripping out of my soiled clothes. Before I get into the shower, I look in the mirror to see the black eye Carl gave me. I step into the spray of water and fall apart.

After I finish my shower, I wrap up in a towel and go back into my room. Pike is still on my bed, so I grab some clothes and go back to the bathroom to get dressed. Coming out, I finally look at the bruises on his face as he reaches his hand out. I walk over to the bed, take it, and let him pull me down and hold me. I stay in his arms, the only comfort I feel life has to offer me right now, and close my eyes.

I was locked in that closet for two days with nothing—nothing but Pike, who snuck down each night to talk to me through the door so that I wouldn’t be alone. Knowing that he would do that for me makes me want to hug him harder, so I do.

“Thank you,” I mumble against his chest.

“What for?”

“Staying with me at night.”

“Like I said, no matter what, you’re my sister,” he says, and I respond with, “And you’re my brother.”