Page 6 of Hot Shot
All of it.
Everything from the last few years bursts through my muscles and sends me across the room. I have her in my arms. My face pressed against the cool skin of her neck. And for the first time in years, my anguish and sorrow flow out of me.
I have no control, no hope of stopping the flood of emotion pouring out as I pull her harder against me. Hold her tighter than I should.
She’s murmuring in my ear, I can’t make out a single word, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but the comfort of her arms and the sound of her voice, the heat of her body and the scent of her skin.
I have no idea how long I stand there sobbing into her neck, no idea why the sight of her broke through the barriers I’ve held in place for so long. Too long.
After months and months and months of feeling alone, of feeling raw and wild, the chaos that my life has been settles.
It settles in a way I don’t understand. In a way I know can only be a brief reprieve. But I’ll take it.
I’ll take this moment and breathe it in, take the comfort and care I’ve been holding at arm’s length since the day my life changed, since the moment my whole world fell apart.
I don’t know how she does it, but I find myself in my bedroom, being lowered to my bed. The sheets are still rumpled from where I crawled out of them late last night—the early hours of this morning—in search of the oblivion sleep can’t bring me.
“I’ll be right back.”
Her words have me reaching out, my hands grasping, grabbing her shirt and gripping tight. “Don’t go.” I can hear the desperation in my voice, but it guts me to think of her leaving.
She can’t leave me too.
“I’m not leaving, Bran. I just need to tell Oakley and Walker I’m staying with you so they can go.”
I nod my head as her hand sweeps over my hair, urges me down on the pillow. “Okay.”
“Lie back down. Close your eyes, go to sleep. Just rest if you can’t. I’ll be here when you get up, Bran.”
I don’t know if it’s her touch or her words—the conviction in them—that has me closing my eyes and slipping into that drowsy space between consciousness and sleep.
I listen to her breathe, feel the heat of her next to me.
She’s here. Finally here after all this time and everyone else I love is gone.
The last thing I register is the scent of her in my nose and the warmth of her hand against my skin.
Blake
When I reach the bedroom door I glance over my shoulder at a slumbering Bran and wonder how long it will last.
If I read him right, as well as the evidence in the living room, he hasn’t consumed more than three quarters of a bottle. Not enough to be worried about unless we’re talking hangovers.
Finding the house empty, I head to the front door and see Oakley and Walker in the driveway. I assume she’s pumping Walker for any information he might know about my relationship with Bran.
Years ago, I kept her, Nat, and Cami in the dark about how close Bran and I had gotten. And when he got married, I saw no reason to enlighten them.
Especially when I knew they’d only worry about me and in all likelihood, smother me in their love and concern. Not that there’s anything wrong with that but at the time I wasn’t ready to expose the wounds Bran getting married had given me.
When the news he’d snuck off and married Celeste—that they were expecting a baby—had broken, I’d been more confused than angry. Although anger should have won out.
He’d gone and done the very things that had kept us from crossing the line of friendship to lovers.
The things neither of us had wantedyet.
The things we’d talked about having in the future—together.
Giving myself a mental slap, I pull myself out of my head and focus on now. “Oakley.”
