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My mother was dead. Gone forever. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Now Mason was fighting for me, and I totally didn’t deserve it. If only he knew how I’d betrayed him, he’d send me away to the farthest institution he could find.
The trembling in my body grew worse. I knew that if I let it get bad enough, I’d probably upset my system into having a seizure, so I concentrated on breathing, thinking about nothing but controlling each inhale and exhale.
I felt cold and alone, but that was kind of how I wanted to feel. It was what I deserved. If only I could’ve died instead of her, justice would’ve been served.
But things had a way of making a person want to keep going.
The door behind me opened and a distinctly male shadow fell across the wall where I was staring. Still wanting to avoid Mason and all my guilt, I squeezed my eyes closed, hoping he’d think I was asleep and leave me alone.
But the voice that whispered, “Sarah?” wasn’t Mason’s.
“Brandt?” I whipped my head around to find him stepping into my brother’s bedroom with me.
He stopped a second to take me in. Then a heap of oxygen rushed from his lungs as he rasped, “Jesus,” and strode to me, shoving my wheelchair aside so he could crawl onto the mattress with me.
Pulling me into his arms, he gathered me against his chest and hugged me tight as he pressed his face into my hair. “I can’t believe this is happening. Are you okay?”
I laughed out an incredulous sound. “No. Not at all,” I answered, my voice breaking on the last word. And that wasn’t the only thing that broke. As my eyes filled with moisture, my control dissolved. I buried my face in his shirt and sobbed.
It was the first time I’d cried since finding my mom dead. Until this moment, I’d felt cold and numb, petrified with guilt and fear. But warm and secure in Brandt’s arms, I finally felt safe enough to let go. He absorbed my grief and eased the pain.
Voices down the hall told me how the apartment was filling with people, coming to pay their respects. Sometimes I’d hear a child’s shout, Reese’s quiet murmur, Noel’s regretful condolences, Mason’s reply. But none of that mattered. I was in my Brandt bubble, and I didn’t want to leave.
I’m not sure how long I wept, but Brandt was in no hurry to push me away. He didn’t ask questions or try to get me to talk. He was just there, and that was better for me than anything.
When I settled down enough to blow out a long, exhausted breat
h, he murmured, “Let’s lie down.”
He helped me onto my side, then he spooned his body up behind mine and curled an arm around my waist. We’d never really hugged before, so it probably should’ve been weird for us to go straight from hugging to cuddling on a bed in just a couple minutes. But it felt strangely perfect. Comfortable, safe, soothingly perfect.
When he said nothing else, I reached back behind me and caught hold of his shoulder, needing just that much more reassurance that he was there for me. I closed my eyes, knowing I didn’t deserve his friendship but appreciating it anyway.
“Mason’s trying to get custody of me,” I said.
I have no idea why I said that. There was so much more I should have told him. Confessed everything, each awful thing I’d ever done, so he’d know what a monster I was, that I was a mother-murderer and a brother-betrayer. But no, I went with something easy and simple that didn’t hurt, that wouldn’t make him want to leave.
“Good. That’s good,” he said. “It means everything...it’s going to be okay.” He stroked my hair gently. “Living with your big brother isn’t so bad. It’s actually been better for me since I have. You’ll see.”
I grabbed hold of his shirtsleeve and squeezed it tight. “Please...don’t...leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured me. “I’m staying right here with you.”
“But I don’t want to stay here right now either,” I whispered. “I have to...I want to escape all this.” I wasn’t sure what I could escape, but Brandt seemed to understand anyway.
“Okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay. I’ll see to it. You don’t have to stay here. Don’t worry.”
So I closed my eyes and believed him.
A couple minutes later, he stood, kissed my forehead and left the room, saying he’d be right back.
An hour after that, I was going home with him and his family, and the relief made me cry some more.
BRANDT
AGE 15
