Page 41 of The Encore’s Crown

“I’m jealous of her, you know?”

I frown. “Who?”

“Kasia.” She swallows. “They were close, grew up together. They were friends. I was waiting for the—” Her words slur a little, but her meaning is loud. Drunk hearts don’t hide their wounds. That’s why men like my father turned violent, because there was nothing soft left inside him when the alcohol took over. My fist curls at the memory.

“For the day I'd be an equal to him,” she whispers. “More than just a baby sister. To watch him be a proud uncle to my—”

She cuts herself off, breath hitching. More tears spill out and she presses her palms hard against her eyes. My instinct kicks in before I think, I bunch the blanket and dab at her cheeks with it like a makeshift tissue. It gets a laugh out of her, weak but real, and something in my chest loosens.

“Well,” I say quietly, leaning in like I'm sharing a secret, “I hate to disappoint you but, speaking as a big brother…”

She peeks at me from under the bunched up blanket .

“You never stop being the baby,” I finish with a shrug.

She snorts, wiping at her nose. “That’s such bullshit.”

“I mean, have you seen Rithy?” I say. “He’s thirty-four and still needy as hell. A baby.”

Her laugh fades slowly after that. The sadness comes back, but it isn’t swallowing her whole now. She turns her face into my leg again and I stare at the top of her head, the pink of her cheeks, the slope of her nose. I’m sitting here while she cries about her brother being gone. I'm just someone that happens to be nearby, to lean on.

That's it. That's all this is.

It should be simple, but it doesn’t feel simple. Nothing's simple about the way I watch for every change in her breath, or make sure to keep the blanket tucked over her.

While I watch her, I start to wonder whether she needs water or if her head hurts. Contemplating if she’ll wake up embarrassed tomorrow and pretend none of this happened. That one hurts in a way I don't want to think about too long.

My hand lifts before I've decided what I’m doing. I touch her cheek with the backs of my fingers, barely there, smoothing away one damp tear track. She curls into me in the dark, pulling herself into a small, trembling knot. I wrap my arm around her, holding her together, lending her my strength.

Whatever fucked up, broken pieces of me still work, I press them together in that moment, and give them all to her.

Chapter 18

Through The Haze

Kiri

When Rafe and Kasia check in on us, they freeze for half a second. Nat’s balled into me like I’m a pillow, my arm already around her. I brace for questions, maybe a lecture, but all I can offer is a helpless shrug. Kasia’s face stays neutral, Rafe exhales like he wants to be annoyed but can’t justify it. They slide the door gently shut on their way out, leaving a small gap like we're a pair of teenagers, of course.

It’s not a long ride back to the hotel, but something in me wants it to last a little longer. My skin prickles, bordering on the edge of panic. I sigh hard and stare at the bus ceiling. Damn.

I know what it takes for me to get over a woman. Two nights, three at most. A week if she really got under my skin. The implosion always comes, then Rithy picks me up by the collar and parades distractions in front of me until I’m fine again. That’s our pattern: he charms, I focus on whatever shiny mistake is next. We’ve been doing it since the beginning. His shield. My magician. I'll be fine once she's gone, this is just a temporary distraction. Then we'll get back to our regularly scheduled bullshit like we always do.

She moves closer, wraps herself against me like I'm somewhere calm, maybe even peaceful. My heart goes off like it’s trying to sound an alarm, my body responding and hardening at the worst possible time. I try to think of something awful, anything to distract me long enough to stop reaching for her. Colorful lights from a sign outside sparkle and fade as we pass. It reminds me of Christmas lights, the kind Ma stopped putting up after he tore them down enough times. She'd hide our gifts in case he smashed them again. I still remember the sound of him crashing drunkenly into walls, shouting that we were too spoiled, that we didn't deserve fucking presents. That memory works. The heat drains out of me, leaving a dull leftover ache.

The bus hits a pothole, and we jolt hard. I catch her instinctively, holding her tight so she doesn’t roll. Even so, she stirs, eyes unfocused in the dim neon flicker coming through the tinted windows. She makes this tiny sound, a sleepy noise like a small animal settling back into its nest. She's so cute it's ridiculous.

Then her hand finds my face. At first it’s gentle, exploratory. I close my eyes, allowing the feeling of it to wash over me. Then she uses that touch to pull herself up toward me, to pull me down, into her. Her fingers grip behind my neck; she leans in with the determination of someone who knows exactly where she wants to be, and kisses me.

Hesitation flashes in the corner of my mind, but it doesn't last long. The part of me that could have stopped this is long gone. Replaced with something raw and needy. I kiss her back, I don't even care about the fact that Rafe or Kasia could come back any second now.

All I see, all I want, is her.

Her mouth is hot against mine, messy and honest, the kind of kiss that makes my pulse go off like a kicked beehive. Wild, confused. When we finally separate, I’m prepared for her to settle back into sleep, but instead she sits up, clumsy but sure, hikes her dress up and swings a leg over my lap.

Shit.

She’s straddling me before I can think, radiating heat through every inch of fabric. Her hands slide to my waist, fumbling, not coordinated enough to be useful, but purposeful enough that I know exactly where her head is. One shaky hand drifts toward my belt, and I catch it too late, her fingers hook the metal and leather.