Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
EMILIA
The room smelled like eucalyptus balm.
Both twins were sprawled out on the bed — the bed, the one they’d insisted I start sharing with them — and for once, they weren’t smirking or arguing or posturing like they owned the world.
They looked… miserable .
Which, considering the freezing downpour they played football in the other night, it wasn’t exactly a surprise.
“I told you both not to stay on the field after the whistle,” I muttered, peeling off my sweatshirt as I walked back into the room, a warm washcloth folded in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
Bastion cracked one eye open and groaned. “And miss the win?”
“You already won . The game was over.”
“Pride,” Luca rasped from the other side of the bed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, crossing to his side. “Oh, I understand it just fine. Pride’s why you’re both sweating through your shirts and coughing like Victorian orphans. ”
Luca chuckled — but it turned into a cough halfway through.
“God,” I murmured, softer now. “You sound awful.”
I pressed the cloth to his forehead. He flinched at first, then leaned into the touch like it caught him off guard. Like he didn’t know people did that sort of thing.
When I moved to brush the hair, he frowned looking like he was about to fight me, with the he is fine, and then he shut his eyes.
And didn’t say another word.
I turned to the dresser, rummaging for the cold meds I’d picked up from the nurse’s office — technically without permission.
Bastion sat up, sluggish and stiff, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor with a huff. His tattoos looked sharper in the low light, the dark ink a stark contrast to his flushed skin.
“You should rest,” I said gently.
He looked at me like he wanted to argue. But he didn’t.
That alone told me how bad it was.
I brought him the second glass of water, waited as he took the meds, then sat beside him, in the middle of on the bed.
He leaned his head back against the wall, watching me.
“I hate this,” he muttered.
“Being sick?”
He shook his head slowly. “Being taken care of.”
My stomach tugged.
“Why?” I asked but already knowing the answer.
He didn’t respond. Just let his eyes drift closed.
I reached for the cloth again, this time folding it fresh and cool, and wiped it gently along the back of his neck. Bastion’s muscles were tense — then slowly unraveled beneath my hand, like he was losing the energy to pretend it didn’t feel good.
Luca was already curled on his side, blanket half over his hips, the sound of his congested breathing filling the quiet.
“Do you want to sleep?” I asked Bastion softly.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll miss you doing that.” His voice cracked slightly when he said.
My throat tightened.
“Shut up,” I whispered, brushing the cloth along his jaw, softer now. “You sound like death.”
His mouth curved.
Then — without even asking — Bastion laid his head in my lap.
Just folded himself there like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He was burning .
Not dangerously, but enough to make my chest ache.
Because I didn’t think anyone had ever sat through his fever before. Not as a kid. Not last year. Not ever.
He didn’t know how to be taken care of.
And neither did Luca.
Bastion’s breath slowed. He closed his eyes, and his hand curled over thigh.
I ran my fingers through his hair — slow, rhythmic strokes — and tried not to let my own emotions swell too high.
They were never like this.
Never soft.
Never open.
Even in bed, even tangled with me between them, there was always some invisible line. Some balance of control and heat and tension that never tipped into this .
But now?
Now Bastion’s hand held onto me like I was safety .
And Luca — already asleep — had shifted toward my side too, his leg brushing mine under the blanket.
I was tucked between them.
Fully clothed. And yet the most naked I’d ever felt.
They didn’t speak again for hours.
Luca only stirred once, sometime near dusk, murmuring something like you’re warm before moving closer.
Bastion stayed on my lap until I shifted beneath him.
“I have to stretch,” I whispered.
He opened his eyes. “You can’t leave.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Good.”
I smiled, even though it hurt. “You’re very demanding when you’re dying.”
“I’m not dying.”
“You look like it.”
Bastion tugged lightly at my wrist, guiding me down beside him.
They both pulled me into the center again.
Their twin body heat still clung to my skin.
And this time, it wasn’t about desire.
It was about trust .
One heavy arm thrown across my waist. Another curled around my thigh.
Both twins were still asleep.
And I was warm . Too warm.
Bastion’s breath was on my collarbone. Luca’s forehead pressed between my shoulder blades .
They’d tucked me in like armor .
I didn’t move. Not yet. Just watched the light creep in through the half-closed blinds.
Then I felt it — Bastion shifted.
He didn’t pull back. Just opened his eyes slowly, still hazy with sleep and fever.
His voice was rough when he spoke. “You stayed.”
I smiled faintly. “Of course I stayed.”
He said that as if I would have left them as soon as they fell asleep.
His hand curled around thigh again, like it had the night before.
“No one ever has.”
And that… that made my chest hurt.
I brushed his hair back.
“You’re not used to being looked after,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer right away.
“We were raised to survive. Not be soft.”
I swallowed.
Bastion’s eyes searched mine, something thick and unreadable in them.
“I like it when you’re soft with us,” he said, voice quieter. “Even when I hate that I like it.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
So I didn’t say anything.
I just kept brushing his hair back until he closed his eyes again.