Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
The leather seat groans as Christopher takes his seat beside me, and the chill of the wind is ended with the thud of the car door closing.
For a moment, there’s only silence.
“Christ—”
“I’ve missed you,” Christopher speaks before I can finish. With a pinch in my brow, I confuse his statement as being directed at me at first, but his gaze, a gaze that matches his brother’s, is focused on the rearview mirror.
“You didn’t call.” His statement is more of an accusation compared to the manner in which I said it.
“You didn’t call either,” Cody responds with more nonchalance than I could have imagined. It’s surreal being in one space with the both of them. I dream of it often. Of each of us well in all ways and able to be in one space together. Two brothers separated, both put through a different kind of hell. One more so than the other, far too early in life.
But don’t they both deserve a happy ending? Wouldn’t it be better for them to be together again? To lean on one another?
Easing back into my seat, I turn easily, my hand gripping the warm leather where the heater blows and I stare back at Cody to explain. “I thought you might need some space and time, so I didn’t …” I can’t finish the thought. Tears prick my eyes and my voice is tight as I practically beg him, “You could always come with us.” It’s both an offer of peace and an offer for happiness.
“It’s not—”
“And watch you and him?” Cody’s voice cracks, and his gaze shifts from me to his brother. “Watch you love her like I should have?”
Christopher is silent as the tension thickens in the small space.
“Cody,” I say and my voice is pleading. “You know it could never work between us. Not after everything.”
Hanging his head slightly, Cody’s strong grip finds his chin as his gaze finds the back of my car seat.
“I didn’t think it would end like this.” Christopher’s voice is low and apologetic. “When I,” he pauses to clear his throat and the man I know to be weak in ways most won’t admit, confesses something out loud that he’s only whispered to me late at night when he thinks I’m sleeping. “When I put you two together, I thought you would take care of her. Look after her. I thought you needed each other.”
“You didn’t think I’d fall for her?” The allegation is clear in Cody’s voice and Christopher’s response doesn’t come with hesitation.
“I didn’t think about love at all.” The declaration comes with distaste and then his voice lowers when he adds, “I knew nothing of it.”
It’s quiet again for a long moment, a moment in which I can barely breathe as I look between the two broken men. One with fresh wounds still bleeding, and the other with deep scars that will never fully go away.
“I missed you too … both of you.” Cody reaches for the handle of the car the moment the last word is spoken.
“Wait,” Christopher yells out, far too loud in the cabin of the car, but it keeps Cody from leaving, although he’s already pulled the handle and the hiss of the wind can be heard. “You should call. Soon. If you need me, you should call or write.”
Cody nods and I find my goodbye trapped at the back of my throat, tears pricking as the three words beg to be spoken. I love you.
I still love him, but it’s not my love he needs.
“We’ll speak soon,” is all Cody says before leaving us alone in the car. All I can do is watch his back in the side mirror as he walks away.
I don’t even realize I’m crying until Christopher brushes away the tears. It’s then that I recognize the hot sensation and the taste of salt.
I lose myself to the sorrow of loss, even as Christopher holds me, as he shushes me, his arm rubbings against my hair. My strong, broken man attempts to rock me and I let him, until he whispers, “I will never keep you from anything. You can always leave. I know—”
“Don’t you dare,” I reprimand him, not an ounce of me calm and my breathing coming in erratically. “I would never, and you better never leave me either.”
I would die a lonely death if ever he left my side. Whether my lungs still moved and my heart still beat, a piece of me would crumble to ash.
“As if I could ever leave you. Little mouse, you are my only obsession.”
Grabbing his hand in mine, I pull it in close to my chest and rest my head beneath his chin. “I love you,” I whisper against his chest, breathing in his masculine scent that lures me to bed every night and listening to the steady beat of his heart he once denied.