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“I’m sorry, Bran,” Britney rasps.
“No. It’s okay.” I edge closer to her.
She slowly shakes her head. “About what I said that night, threatening to tell Kayla about Ohio. Threatening to use that against you.” She catches her breath, eyes watering. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
As tears spill down the side of her face, I lift my hand and wipe them with my thumb.
Britney’s eyes widen in shock. “Bran…”
My action surprises even me. I drop my trembling hand back at my side and murmur, “I’m slowly getting there.”
Her lips coil into a genuine smile. “That’s good. You’re starting to heal.” She looks at the door. “We all need to.”
Kayla opens the window for me to climb into her room. It’s late, but I needed to see her after leaving the hospital.
“How’s Britney?” she asks, concern on her gorgeous face.
I stick my hands in the pockets of my pants and blow out a sharp sigh. “It’ll be a while before she’s healthy again, but she’s willing to start.” I don’t mind going into the details with Kayla, but I doubt Britney wants me to tell anyone.
Kayla nods in understanding. “That’s good. So, how are you doing? You looked so afraid today.”
“Yeah.” I drag my hand down my face. “Seeing my twin like that scared me.”
Silence lingers between us as we stare at each other.
My throat squeezes when Kayla moves closer.
“Don’t push me away,” she pleads, then leans in to embrace me, resting her head against my chest.
I stand frozen, heart racing, fists clenched.
Darkness lurks, wanting to pull me to that horrible place and shove her off.
But I focus on my feelings for Kayla and cloak her body in return. Relieved, she relaxes into me just as I lower my chin on her shoulder and absorb her sweet vanilla scent while savoring the feel of her.
It’s the most gentle I’ve been with anyone.
I desire more than anything to remain like this, but it starts to rise again. That ghastly cloud stretches above my head, and the bad memories rain down.
The pain claws at my skin, provoking the monster within. My whole body begins to shake.
“Bran,” Kayla whispers. She eases back to look into my eyes. “It’s okay.”
Nervous I’ll hurt her, I writhe out of the embrace and move back, aggressively run my hand through my hair amid trying to suppress the agony.
“Tell me what happened,” Kayla implores. “Please.”
“I can’t...” I lift my head to look into her eyes. “I’m sorry. Not right now.”
Hurt contorts her features, and I wonder how long she’ll remain patient with me not opening up.
I slant to the window. “I have to go. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay.” She steps up to the window when I climb out. “Night, Brandon.”
“Night, little artist.”
I’m still fighting to repress the anguish as I walk to my car parked on the side street. The moment I reach, a cold sensation slithers down my spine.
I spin around, having the inkling that someone’s watching me.
It’s close to midnight.
The street’s lonely. Except for a line of cars parked along the sidewalk.
Getting a grip, I hop in my car and head home. Perhaps the horrific memory is making me paranoid.
