REX
I was shaking as I got off the back of the bike, so fucking hard that Rachel had to help prop me up.
Feeling like an old, old man, I wobbled up the stairs, just in time to drop to my knees.
The roar of pain that escaped me didn’t do anything to expel the agony deep inside.
I’d known this was coming, this day where I lost him, but I hadn’t thought I’d be the one behind his death.
I heard Rachel’s soft sob, but I didn’t listen. I just roared again, my face crumpling, my agony unreal as I tried to expel my grief.
It didn’t work.
The feelings inside me were like I had a hurricane tearing me to pieces. Destroying me and leaving devastation in its wake.
Hands on the floor, sorrow and guilt taking a chokehold on me, I finally heard Rach’s sobs as she tried to help me up when one of her tears splashed onto my hand.
That was my wake-up call. That was when I realized where I was and what I was doing.
Everything felt both crystal clear and hazy all at the same time. Like the pain clarified things but the desolation blurred it.
I’d been here before.
Too many times to fucking count.
But that didn’t make it easier.
Nothing about this was easy.
Still in a daze, I let her help me to my feet because I knew she’d hurt herself if I didn’t—I weighed over two-fifty. She was one-thirty max, soaking wet.
When I was standing, I curved an arm over her shoulder and hauled her into me. My face burrowed into her throat as I tried to hide from what was happening. I felt her hands on my back, fingers clenching down on my coat. A sharp breath soughed from her lungs, whistling past my jaw, but in my state, I didn’t realize she was struggling.
Maybe I should have.
Maybe I should’ve recognized these things by now without any conscious thought, but I didn’t.
When she finally squeezed me back, it didn’t register how long it had taken her to hug me, and I didn’t care. I just needed her.
I fucking needed her.
Did she know how much?
“Rex? Come on, baby. Let’s get you inside.”
“Nothing’s ever going to be the same again.”
“No,” she agreed rawly. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t make things… better. Let’s get inside. It’s starting to snow.”
She turned in my arms, hiking one of mine over her shoulders and sliding a hand around my waist to prop me up.
Together, we staggered like I was drunk into the house. I stared up at the staircase like it was Everest, knowing I couldn’t make it that far.
She must have known because she didn’t guide me that way. Instead, she took me down the hall that led to her workspace.
Over the years, I’d grown fond of her offices. Sometimes, that was the only place she’d see me without putting a wall up. It was where we fucked. Only, she didn’t take me inside her office—she took me to the den off of it.
I was surprised enough by the sight of the fancy living room to blurt out, “What is this place?”
She shrugged. “It’s where I unwind. Rain knows not to disturb me here.”
The house was large, with several living rooms. Too large for a pair of siblings to rattle around together in. Why she needed this private one, I had no clue, but when she drew me over to the sofa, I let her.
The second I slumped on it, I stared blindly ahead, uncertain of what to do or say. My eyes burned with emotion, and when I swiped at them with my fingers, I brought tears forth, but they didn't express how I was feeling. They were inadequate for the task.
I wanted to scream.
I needed to rage.
My dad was gone.
The Sparrows had taken him from me.
The hurt was raw; the bitterness was real.
The desire for vengeance was paramount but even that was futile. Justice was being served to the Sparrows. Lodestar-style. That knowledge didn’t, however, take away the ache in my soul.
As I stared at nothing, waiting for my new reality to settle in, Rachel surprised me again by carefully propping herself on my knee.
I shot her a blank look, which she ignored and settled herself deeper on my lap. Her arms went around my shoulders, and she nestled into me.
The heat of her, the comfort, it rolled off her and into me, making me slouch against the sofa.
It was clearly stuffed with feathers, because the cushions conformed to my shape and weight, so, cosseted on all sides by the scent of her, by the heat of her, I tipped my head back and whispered, “I don’t know how to—”
“—be in a world without him. I know.” She pressed a soft kiss to my jaw. “I’m here, Rex. I’m here.”
“You’re here now,” I said bitterly, my voice thick as I closed my eyes.
“I’m always—”
“You’re not. Don’t lie, Rach. You’re here until I freak you out and then you back off.” Hell, she’d even admitted that she was thinking about moving to fucking Manhattan. “And that’s okay. It’s how we roll. But don’t make out like I can depend on you—”
“Hush,” she whispered, and I heard the tears in her voice. “You can always depend on me. Always. It might not be how you’d like, but I am always here for you.”
Before I could speak, she pressed her lips to mine to stem my denial. I knew it was crazy, knew it was inappropriate but I didn’t fight her off.
I didn’t stop her.
I let her kiss me, let her gentle pecks dot around my mouth, let her trace her lips over the hard line of my jaw. I felt the butterfly soft caress as she pressed them to my eyelids and then settled one on my forehead.
“I’m here, Rex. I’m here,” she repeated, and like the fool I was for her and her alone, I fell for it.
This year had been impossible. Not just Dad, but so many of my friends lost to the blast. So much change and so much grief and misery.
She was, and always would be, my home.
So I went home.
My mouth opened around the tender flesh that was the arch of her throat and I sucked down, enough to make her moan. I let my lips travel down to the curve of her shoulder, and I nipped the part where it met with her neck. Her whimper had me groaning and encouraged me enough that I reached up to shape the curve of her with my hands.
The feel of her was so rare, that it was like a treat. Like a kid who wasn’t allowed sugar from a helicopter mom who deep dived into a bag of gummi bears come Halloween.
The sugar hit went straight to my brain.
And my dick.
I burrowed beneath the layers, the very un-Rachel-like plaid shirt she wore that had a fleece lining for warmth. My fingers found bare flesh, and when she moaned as I started to tug on the buttons, her chin tipped forward, her forehead colliding with mine. I pressed my lips to hers at that point, needing to taste her. Needing to rediscover her.
Hers parted to let me in, and as I stroked my tongue along the length of hers, I unfastened her shirt and started to explore her by touch alone.
Her bra gave way under my demanding caresses, and my hands found her and shaped her, savoring the feel of her. She was chronically underweight, to the point where her ribs usually bumped my palms, but her tits were heavier.
Her ribs less pronounced.
If I’d been in my regular headspace, I’d have asked what was going on, but I didn’t. I just took what she offered.