Page 192 of Under the Bed

She’s cold, slight tremors coursing through her and my protective side is in full force. I draw the covers over us, hug her close. My lips press to her temple. Her arms wrap around my neck.

We have a lifetime of this waiting for us. A compensation for years of being torn apart. Of suffering.

“I still can’t believe you’d say that.” Her fingers dig into my skin. As if I’m going anywhere without her. “After everything I’ve put you through. That being with me is the best part.”

“You’ve made this life worth living.” I tip her chin up, knowing that wherever we go, we’ll be together. Preferably a country that has skies the color of her eyes. The only shade of blue that exists for me. “You, little sister.”

More questions surface in her eyes. More pain and self-reprimand.

I won’t have it.

I have a hand around the back of her neck, bringing her forehead to my shoulder. Her lips are hot on my skin. Our bodies are as close and connected as our souls.

“You’ve done the same for me, Kaleb. You make itallworth it.” Her hot breath tickles my skin, her hesitation as sweet as hearing the words “Big brother.”

31

KALEB

Human connection.

Such a foreign fucking concept.

Small touches. Hushed conversations. Lingering eye contact.

I never understood them.

And not for lack of trying.

Silently, I’d watch them. People on the street. Kids in school. I’d be curious to understand what they saw in it that I couldn’t.

Eventually, I got bored. I kept to myself.

Then, I became Shiloh’s stepbrother.

Then everything clicked.

Every bone in my body craved that connection. Her nearness. Her smiles.

The trust she placed in me whenever her father stepped into the room. It was more than a feeling. It was a metaphorical blanket that she cast over me.

Just like her serious expression when she looked at me when I wore my mask. She was the only one to ever see through me.

The only one who wanted to make sense of the kid behind the mask.

Shiloh had no ulterior motive. She wasn’t doing it so she could point out and laugh at the soulless freak she’d find underneath.

She cared about me, and Iwantedthat. From her and no one else.

Shiloh reached into my marrow. Worked her magic. Changed the genetic map of my distorted DNA.

She still does that.

I still want it.

That’s why I’ve been soaking up every ounce of her attention over the past few days in the Davis’s apartment, where we’ve been cocooned together. Where we connected and fucked and talked and breathed each other in.

I couldn’t get enough of her. Her sweet gasps. Her voice. The adoration in her glinting blue eyes. Her attentiveness when I told her about my years at Berkshire.

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