Page 77 of Fault Line

Her nose wrinkles. “If it’s so important to him, why hasn’t he pressured you into following in his footsteps?”

“He’s tried, for years. But he’s letting me pursue my own passions, which I’m thankful for. He knows I’m not interested in being a lawyer. They would push my younger brother, Harris, into it, but he’s kind of a fuckup himself. I’m the golden boy in their eyes.”

“Ah, I see.” She taps the end of my nose. “You’re their little sunshine, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, in a way.” I stifle a snort. “Fuck the pressure of it all, though.”

She nudges me with her elbow. “And what’s Harris done to earn the illustrious title offuckup?”

“You may have noticed that my family has their fair share of money.”

Her eyes light up in amusement. “Hard to miss.”

“Right, well, my brother’s only a couple of years younger than me. He’s got his trust fund and an allowance, and he also doesn’t go to college.” I cup my hand around her knee, gently squeezing. “While I’m spending my money on tuition, he’s spending it on girls and booze and drugs.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, he just doesn’t have a care in the world.” A sharp edge creeps into my tone, betraying my frustration. “He’d probably be content to just fuck it all away on useless shit.”

She tenses up, and I have the sudden urge to backtrack.

“So, he has an addiction?” she asks.

“I don’t think so.” I work to neutralize my tone. “It’s more so recreational. He’s put together in front of my parents, but behind closed doors, he’s partying hard.”

“Are you at all worried about him?”

Before I can help it, bitterness creeps up inside of me, like a vine twisting around my heart. I know she’s comparing Harris’ situation to her best friend’s, but it’s not the same. Harris doesn’t care about anyone other than himself.

“Sometimes,” I say, attempting to remain indifferent. “But I’ve got so much of my own shit going on. I just need him to take care of himself, you know?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is soft, a quiet whisper in the small space between us. “So, you two obviously aren’t close, then?”

“We just have different goals, lifestyles.” I let out a sharp exhale. “I wish the best for him, though.”

“Hmm,” she hums, quiet and tense in my arms now.

“You okay?”

She gives me a tiny nod and a fleeting half-smile. “Yeah.”

“You know I’ll be here for you this weekend, right?” I smooth a hand over her hair, tucking it behind her ear. In the process, I expose a tiny patch that’s missing at the top of her head and make a mental note to ask her about it later. “We can fight your sister together.”

Her expression softens as she looks up at me. “Thanks, Beck,” she says quietly.

We sit there in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, just holding each other, our breathing in sync. Her body relaxes into mine, and I can sense the tension slowly leaving her. I run my fingers through her hair, tracing soothing circles on her back with my other hand.

After a while, I stand up and offer my hand. “Come on,” I say, gently tugging her toward me. “Let’s do something to occupy your mind.”

She joins me, and we spend the rest of the evening together, watching movies and cooking dinner. It’s not the grandest of gestures, but it’s enough to remind her that she’s not alone, that I’m here for her in more than just a physical way.

As the night grows late, I walk her to her bedroom, tucking her in with a gentle kiss to her forehead. She tightens her grip on my hand as I move to leave, and her eyes search mine, silently pleading with me to stay.

Without hesitation, I nod and shed my clothes, climbing into bed beside her. She snuggles into my chest, her warm breath tickling my skin, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her close.

We lie there in the darkness, the only sound the soft hum of the air-conditioning and her bedside diffuser. My fingers trace lazy patterns across her back as she slowly drifts off to sleep. It feels good to be here for her, to protect her from the demons that plague her mind.

I press a soft kiss to her temple and whisper, “Sleep well, pretty girl. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

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