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Hugs contained affection, comfort, emotion, a sense of goodwill offered between both parties. You could not be impersonal with a hug.
So I said, “What?” to prolong the inevitable from happening.
But damn her, she started to repeat the question. “Can I—”
I couldn’t handle hearing her ask it a second time, so I blurted, “Why?”
She froze and stared at me, her breathing beginning to pick up. “I, uh, I’d rather not tell you,” she finally murmured. When my brows puckered in confusion, she sighed. “It’s just a test. For myself,” she was quick to add. “Kind of a self-therapy thing, so it pretty much has nothing to do with you. I only want to find out something about me when I do it. And then I’ll stop. Okay?”
“Um…” It seemed important to her to find out whatever it was she wanted to know. So I found myself saying, “Okay, but I won’t hug you back.”
Her gaze flashed with hope as she looked up at me. If anything, my unwillingness to participate pleased her even more. “That’s alright,” she assured quickly. “I’ll take care of the whole thing. You just stand there and let me do my test.”
Then she stepped toward me, only to pause uneasily, when—as promised—I did nothing to cooperate with her plans. Reaching behind me blindly, I clutched the tailgate of the truck I was still leaning against and watched as she lifted her arms, then dropped them slightly, and frowned as she contemplated my body.
“Er…” I could read every thought in her head as she decided how to go about this. Then she muttered, “Dear Lord, it’s like I’ve forgotten how it’s done or something.”
“The opening-the-arms bit was a good start,” I offered.
She sent me an irritated scowl because, yeah, I’d been teasing her. Then she pretty much just launched herself at me, colliding against my chest as her arms lassoed me, pinning me to the truck.
“Oomph…” I sputtered, the wind momentarily knocked from my lungs.
But then she eased, relaxing her muscles and loosening her grip as she turned her face sideways to press her ear against the base of my throat and tuck her head just under my chin.
Her pulse was rapid, like a frightened bird’s, and her arms trembled slightly, but she seemed determined to keep holding on to me.
Another second passed before I began to relax against her warmth, taking in the press of her breasts against my ribs and her hip bone in my thigh.
Finally, I tipped my face down just enough to exhale against the top of her head. The scent of her shampoo wavered up my nostrils.
Closing my eyes, I pressed my cheek to her hair. And before I knew it, my hands had let go of the truck and my arms were wrapping slowly around her in return.
She sighed against me, saying nothing as she told me how pleased she was.
What followed was the longest hug known to mankind. Guinness might’ve even sat up and taken notice. It probably lasted fifteen minutes or more, and we didn’t do anything other than simply hold each other, maybe sometimes gently swaying back and forth or slipping a hand down the other’s back.
No words were spoken or promises were made.
We just…hugged.
When she was done, she released a breath, patted my back twice in thanks, and unlocked her arms from around me before taking a step back.
My arms immediately felt empty without her in them.
I looked down at her, not sure how to deal with this strange vulnerable and exposed sensation that was creeping over me. But all she did was smile softly as if she understood.
“Thank you, Gracen.”
Then she turned away, got into her car, and left.
I remained standing there, long after she was gone, wondering what had just happened.
I felt changed.
And strangely, it didn’t feel like a bad, deceitful, I-just-betrayed-my-sister kind of change.
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