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Like that’s what brothers are like. Like Seb could have been like that with me, but…
Fuck, there’s a knot in my throat, like earlier tonight, not letting me breathe. I’m choking on air, and warmth, and kindness, and it’s so fucked-up.
Yanking my hand away, I walk away, into another random room, trying to get oxygen into my lungs, and failing. I clench my fists and bow my head, and I just want to crash the whole place down, smash and break and bleed until the fucking pressure in my chest goes away.
“Rett…” She comes behind me, walking so softly I start at the sound of her voice.
I expect her to ask me if I’m okay, what happened, what the fuck’s going on with me and why I’m acting like an asshole again, but she doesn’t say anything else.
Then I expect her to go a
way and leave me alone, but she doesn’t.
I wait and wait, but she’s quiet, just… being there, and the pressure in my chest builds and builds.
And right about when I can’t take it any longer, she puts her arms around me from behind and just holds me.
Through the jacket, through the layers of cloth between us, I feel the slight pressure of her tits, of her body pressed to mine, her arms bracing me like a lifeline, keeping me afloat.
Air trickles into my lungs. I draw a shuddering breath, and another.
Fuck.
“It’s okay,” she says, her voice soft like velvet. “It’s okay.”
And just like that, my breath catches again.
She has to stop ambushing me with kindness. It’s my weak point.
She’s my weak point. If anything can take me down, it’s her. I wonder if she has any idea of all the power she has over me.
Of what I’d do for her.
I draw another shaky breath. “Gigi…”
“Are you guys rea—? Shit, sorry.” Merc’s voice fades, and I hear his steps retreat.
Gigi laughs quietly. “Come on. I think the hot chocolate is ready.”
Again I expect her to ask me something, anything, but she just holds out her hand, and I take it, and we return to the living room where Merc is setting up coasters with huge mugs of hot chocolate and plates of cake, and it’s unreal.
“You need to change first,” Merc says, all business-like, not like he walked in to find me trying not to fall apart with his sister soothing me. “I can give you some old sweats of mine. Come.”
My fingers slip from Gigi’s, and I wince. It’s like a physical pain every time I let go, a visceral fear that I won’t get to do it again.
Merc points me to a bathroom, then comes back with a towel and some clothes that he shoves into my arms. “Change, and come back,” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
He’s so… cool, I think, as I shiver so hard my teeth rattle. Composed. Nice. I wonder again for a brief second how it would be to have Merc for a brother, and I stop that line of thinking quickly before it goes downhill once more.
I’m glad Gigi has him, though.
With that thought, I manage to steady myself enough to undress, get dry and pull on the borrowed clothes. The sweats are fine, with pockets where I shove my keys and my wallet. The T-shirt and sweater are kind of narrow at the shoulders and chest, but I can breathe, so it’s fine.
I can fucking breathe. It’s easier when she’s around, and the memory of her arms around me is a hot sear of pleasure straight to my chest. Like a hot blade cutting through me, but sweet. Far too sweet for the mess I’m in.
Toweling my wet hair one last time, I try to marshal my scattered thoughts, and then I hear her calling my name.
And I get out, towel in hand, heading to her, before my brain catches up.
