Chapter 42
ZARIAH
IN SMALL DOSES
“When I said I’d go to therapy, I meant that I’d think about it,” Elijah lied.
“Elijah,” I said, nodding to his front door. Denali was propping it open, arms folded over his chest. The Gladiators won their first game in the playoffs—a nail biter that finished in overtime—and while I was so fucking proud of them, it was time to push Elijah on his process.
Denali and I decided the best approach was a sneak attack, and with two people, we could cut off the exits to prevent Elijah’s escape.
“I didn’t book an appointment,” Elijah tried.
I shrugged. “I did.”
“I’m wearing sweats—I slept in these. I’m not dressed yet.”
“No one at therapy is going to be shocked that you’re not in a three-piece suit.”
“Therapy is like mental exercise, right?” Denali said. “You wouldn’t wear jeans to the gym. Maybe sweats at therapy make sense.”
I glanced behind me, mouthing my words. “Nice one.”
“Thank you,” he mouthed back.
Reluctance was written all over Elijah’s face. He pushed up from the couch like every movement pained him, complaining about the betrayal. Neither of us cared. Denali and I walked to the care clinic with Elijah wedged between us.
It was amazing to see Gladiators merchandise around us. It boomed across campus, jerseys, banners, Gladiator hats, the color purple was competing with the football team’s blue. For the first time ever, there was real hope that we could make it to the Gulf Coast Cup.
“This is stupid,” Elijah repeated. “I don’t need an escort.”
“It’s not an escort,” Denali rebuffed. “We’re just taking a walk.”
“You don’t need to lie to him,” I said breezily.
Elijah elbowed me away. “When are you telling Mom and Dad that you’re taking advantage of my captain?”
“After the last game of the season—”
“Last game of the season—” Denali began and we realized we were saying the same thing at the exact same time. Denali leaned behind Elijah to catch my eye, a lofty grin crossing his face. It was that annoying couples’ shit we couldn’t stop doing—I absolutely loved it.
He reached to touch me, but I saw the opportunity. I hit his palm for the handshake I knew he knew.
His eyes lit up and we stopped on the sidewalk. He bumped my fist and I drew closer, smacking his hand to go through the motions, faster and faster until Denali had my hands in his.
It was that look on his face. His dazed eyes, his breathing slowed, and the way his body inclined towards mine…the look when undeniably freaky shit zapped to his brain.
“God, I want to fuck you so bad,” he muttered.
“What are you two doing?” Elijah mock-demanded, grabbing Denali by the shoulder. “That’s a spiritually divine handshake, that’s sacrilege—you’re defiling it!”
“Loverboy,” I cooed at Denali. “You want to do the handshake, naked? We can make it way dirtier.”
“Disgusting,” Elijah groaned. He shoved Denali, but no amount of pushing would get him to stop staring at me. “Denali, you and I can do the handshake. Zariah, you and I can do the handshake. You can’t do it together!” He snapped his fingers in front of Denali’s face. “Stop gawking at her.”
I burst into laughter and Elijah snorted, but the humor melted away as we came to the care clinic. It was busy. There were plenty of students walking in for their appointments and Elijah faltered on the curb.
“They told me it’s an hour for paperwork and another hour for the first session,” I said.
“Fuck,” Elijah managed. “I really don’t want to do this.”
“We’ll be back in two hours,” Denali confirmed. “We’re getting dinner.”
“That’s me, the third wheel,” Elijah sighed. He took a long, slow breath, gazing at the care clinic. “Not to add sentimental bullshit, but thank you.” He avoided looking either of us in the eye. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…you two are my best friends.”
“Aw.” I nudged him. “From the womb to the tomb, huh?”
“Shut up. That’s the end of the sentimental bullshit.”
For a moment, I gazed at my twin. He was a foot taller than me, but we had the same nose, the same curls, he was the one I’d shared a playpen with. We never kept secrets from each other, they’d always come out eventually.
What if I told Elijah who Denali actually was?
The secrets itched under my skin, but I knew my brother, knew what he was up against. I didn’t want to pile my history with Denali on Elijah when he was—under coercion—taking the first steps for his mental health.
If I revealed the secret too early, it’d be like throwing a bowling ball into Elijah’s life. I couldn’t do that.
Well, not yet anyway.
“You are sentimental bullshit,” I finally whispered, squeezing him into a hug.
Denali and I watched Elijah make his way to the front door, his shoulders bent. As soon as the door closed, Denali threaded his fingers through mine. “Two hours.”
“Two hours.”
“Ice skating?”
I nodded, letting him take the lead. “Fuck hockey. We’re going to make your sensual figure-skating dreams come true.”
It was a fifteen-minute drive to the mall. The ice rink was pretty deserted on a Monday, only a handful of people were out.
After Denali handed his card to the cashier, I grabbed my rental skates off the counter. “Did I ever tell you that when we were kids, I did psychological warfare on you?”
“Psychological warfare?” Denali repeated.
“I wanted you to ask me out on a date, so I made you sit through my favorite romance movies. I figured if you watched The Blob enough times, you’d get the hint.”
“The Blob is a romance movie?”
“They go on a date! You know, before the townspeople get attacked and absorbed by the alien.”
Denali burst into laughter and my heart fluttered at the sound. We sat on the bench, him with his regular skates, me with the neon blue, stiff to the touch ice skates.
He easily slipped his on. “I was so fucking nervous to even hold your hand, I didn’t know how to ask you out.”
I smiled at his remark and took my time with the skates. It wasn’t on purpose, they were clearly new.
“Zariah?” He spoke my name so softly, goosebumps raised across my skin.
I found his eyes on mine. They trailed to my skates, a question woven under my name. My cheeks warmed when I realized what he wanted. I draped my leg over his, holding out the skates.
“I forgot about your favorite part,” I murmured, teasing.
Denali was slow and deliberate, wrapping a hand around my leg to prop it up. His fingers skimmed up my calf, and he pulled my skate on. Denali was so quiet, but I could feel how pleased he was. The pleasure simmered off him.
“Hey?” I prompted. “No secrets, right?”
He nodded. “Right.”
“Is this a foot fetish thing?”
“What?” His eyes snapped to mine, appalled. “I’m not into feet—”
I patted his shoulder. “You put your tongue on my butthole semi-regularly—you don’t get to act superior over toe people.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
He had to bite back the grin. “Because I want to fuck your ass.”
“You don’t think they want to fuck toes?”
Denali snorted into harder laughter, shaking his head. It was so cute. He moved to my other skate, and I raked my fingers through his hair, playing with it. He went still for a moment, and I watched the shiver travel through him, so slight, nobody else could’ve caught it.
I leaned in. “So why do you like putting on my shoes?”
“I like…” He ran his tongue along his teeth, tying my laces together. “I like touching you. Taking care of you. And for two minutes, you can’t go anywhere. You have to stay here with me.”
It took him a moment to realize what he said before the apologies blurted out of him.
I inched closer, dipping my hand from his hair to his neck. “That’s hot.”
“In small doses,” he said, almost a reminder for himself.
“You’re doing so good,” I whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth.
His voice was husky. “I’m trying.”
“I know you are.”
I captured his lips for a kiss, wrapping my fingers in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer.
It was teetering on the edge, but after Cleo’s discovery, I realized something very, very important.
If I didn’t feel so strongly about Denali, I wouldn’t have even talked to him about my suspicions.
I would’ve done what I’d grown used to. Take my exit at the first sight of trouble.
But I didn’t. Because when it came to Denali, I was in deeper waters than I thought.