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She’s already so wet. Both of us moan as I’m sheathed deep inside her.
I fuck her as slow as the time that passed while I waited for her those seven years.
I fuck her while staring at her, letting her know that she’s it for me. I don’t have to be thirty-something to know that. I’ve known it since the moment the woman who gave birth to me abandoned me and Kim hugged me, promising never to leave me.
I knew it when she held my hand and cried with me, even when I told her I didn’t like seeing her cry.
I didn’t understand the levitation in my chest back then, but now, I do.
What I feel for Kim isn’t only about our bodies’ connection or our history, it’s also about our pain. It’s about the fact that her presence dulls the emptiness like no alcohol ever will.
The orgasm that hits her shakes both of us to the core. She wraps her arms around me and hides her face in my neck as she whispers, “I love you, Xan. I’ve been in love with you for so long, I don’t know when it started or if it’ll ever end.”
And just like that, I’m a goner.
38
Xander
After tangling herself around me, kissing me, and whispering things in my ear, Kim finally loses the long biological battle with sleep and drifts off.
My chest still aches at remembering the words she said. Like how much she loves me, how much loving me has saved her.
At that moment, I couldn't speak. I still can't, because I have no right to say those words when I'm leaving.
I stand by the bed, fully dressed, and stroke the stray green hair off her cheek. She moans softly, leaning into my touch.
Everything in me shouts at me to stay.
To hold her.
Kiss her.
Never leave her side again.
But Dad is right; I don't deserve her. Not yet.
With one last glance at her, I step out of her room. Before leaving, I have to go to a place and get her a gift, but first, I bring out my phone and type.
Xander: Remember that day you named me your knight? We were in the park and you were wearing that green princess dress with ribbons and lace and shit. Your hair wasn't brushed, and you had this green crown on top that you made Calvin buy you for Halloween. Then you said, 'Hey, Xan. Every princess needs a knight and you're honoured cuz I'm making you mine.' The moment I knelt in front of you while you blessed me with a bamboo sword, mimicking the queen, was my happiest childhood memory. It was the first time you dressed up and smiled after your grandmother’s death and I felt so damn proud to bring joy to your life. That's why I hugged you straight after and nearly sq
ueezed you to death. When you looked at me with those huge eyes, I wasn't only a knight, I was a fucking God. I still feel the same whenever you look at me, and that's why I had to hate you after I overheard Dad and Jeanine.
I knew. I just knew, even at eleven, that I didn't want to be your brother. I fucking hated it and I wanted to shout it out loud. I wanted to grab Dad and ask him why, but I bottled it all inside. For years, I looked at you and knew I couldn't touch you. For years, I ached to talk to you, to tell you it hurt without you, and that I missed you. I missed being your knight, your armour against the world, but most of all, I missed being your closest friend. The more I wanted to do that, the harder I hated myself and I directed that hatred at you. I hurt you because it hurt me. I hated you because the opposite was fucking impossible. I became War because wars are mass destruction to everyone – me included.
I couldn't be your knight anymore and it slowly killed me. Finding out I'm part of the reason you decided to end your life was the last chip in my armour before it was destroyed to pieces. But then it started building again because of someone. You. Since that night you barged into my room, hugged me, and told me we share no DNA, I've been slowly shedding War and building back my armour.
You were right. I was honoured to be your knight. Now, I have to be a worthy of that title and you again.
I'll heal, like I'm sure you will. I won't fix you and you won't fix me. We’ll just hug each other like we used to do in the past. If Samantha stirs any shit up, I'll kiss you in front of the world and shout that you're mine, their judgement be damned. The universe doesn't matter, Green, you do.
Then. Now. Always.
39
Kimberly
Loneliness is a morbid thing. It starts with that small feeling of emptiness and morphs into something completely unavoidable.
