Chapter 20 #2
“True.” Something about his words bothers me. Is he including us in that statement? Does he regret everything that happened last night? And God, I feel like shit for even thinking that.
What if Carolynda is really sick?
The day drags on. But I do nap a bit while holding Maisy, so that’s helpful. Vivian finally manages to put Maisy down on the bed without her waking up. He nods toward the bathroom, and I follow him. Does he want to talk about us? The kiss we shared?
“Have you heard anything from George? How’s Mom doing?”
Ignoring the guilt churning in my stomach, I pull out my phone and read over Dad’s latest message. “The anti-nausea meds are working. They think after this bag of fluids, she’ll be released.”
He pulls at his hair. “Why won’t they tell us what’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but—” I stop abruptly. Will telling him make everything worse?
“But what? I need to know.” He steps closer. The bathroom is small, and Vivian being this close brings back memories I can’t deal with right now. Kissing him. Wanting him. I’m up against the counter, and there’s no place to move.
I focus on his question. “When I went to get the meds for Maisy, Dad started crying. It was before I told him Maisy was sick.”
His eyes fill with tears and his chin trembles.
Hugging him seems like a step too far, so I squeeze his arms. “Hey, she’s going to be okay.”
“You can’t know that.”
I’m not sure I even believe it, but my chest aches at the pain I can see in his eyes. I want to make it better. “Maybe not, but there’s no sense in thinking the worst until we know for sure.”
“You know you can’t fix everything, right?”
I shrug. “I can try.”
He studies my face. I’m not sure what he sees, but he wraps his hand around my nape and draws me closer. Instead of kissing me, he rests his head against mine. “I need something to get me out of my head.” He touches my chin.
All the air whooshes out of my body. “Like what?” I ask softly.
“If Maisy wasn’t here, I’d show you. But I’ll give you a hint. It involves your cock and my mouth.”
My body responds with a hell yes. But Maisy is in the next room, so it isn’t going to happen. “You’re a tease, Vivian.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet. I’m what they call a brat.”
He winks and walks out of the room. I stay for a long while, trying to recover my composure.
I’m straightening Dad and Carolynda’s hotel room when he calls to let us know she’s getting discharged. He sounds relieved, like he wasn’t expecting the outcome to be a happy one.
It doesn’t take long to finish the room.
I Lysol the place just in case, but it’s more about having something to keep me busy.
I doubt Carolynda is contagious, and although Maisy has had a fever, we’ve all been in close quarters for the last three days.
It’s too late to stop germs from spreading now. That ship has sailed.
I text the information to Vivian. Carolynda is better, but it means we’re spending another night in Durango. The schedule is well and truly fucked. But none of this could have been predicted.
Maybe if I’d had all the information ahead of time, I could have padded the schedule more. Why are they keeping everything a secret?
After I’m done, I return to our room. Vivian and Maisy are once again in the chair.
She’s curled in his lap with her head resting against his as he whispers words to her.
Words I can’t hear. I sit on the ottoman, careful not to jostle them.
Maisy’s eyes are shut, her cheeks still red.
But her hair is damp, and I hope that means her fever is breaking.
I sweep her bangs away from her forehead and my knuckles brush against Vivian’s cheek. Instead of jerking away, he leans into my touch.
The first touch was accidental. The next one is not. I smooth my thumb over the bruise on his cheek. I hate that I couldn’t protect him.
Not that he wants my protection. His words from last night haunt me. Needing help makes me weak.
I barely know his father, but I hate him.
The dark curls on Vivian’s forehead are damp. From Maisy or the heat? I brush his hair back and cup his head in my hand. He makes a sound but doesn’t open his eyes. Vivian’s tough. Sharp like a knife. But right now, he looks sweet. Unguarded.
I kiss Maisy’s forehead, glad she’s feeling well enough to sleep. Then, feeling brave, I brush my lips gently over the bruise on Vivian’s cheek.
“You’re being inappropriate,” he says in a singsong voice. His eyes are still closed, but there’s a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth.
“Inappropriate? Because you’re my brother?” I swallow the memories of last night and my need to do so much more.
“Stepbrother,” he corrects, opening his eyes. So dark I could get lost in them. “Our sister is between us.”
I smile. He’s not wrong.
Vivian falls, and I’m too far away to catch him. His head hits the table—
“Jonah.”
I shake my head. “I’m so sorry.”
“We’ve discussed this. I’m not a delicate flower that needs protecting.”
“No. You’re more beautiful—” I stop as his smile drops.
How was I so wrong about him? Vivian’s the opposite of vain.
He’s like a prickly rose that needs holding but will stab you if you get close.
“In here,” I say, tapping his temple. “And in here.” I place my hand on his chest. His heartbeat is strong, and it anchors me.
His smile returns, and this time, it’s mirrored in his eyes. “Nice save.”
I want to kiss him. Hold him. Appreciate him the way he deserves. Unconditionally. Unrestrained. But wanting more than Vivian can give will destroy everything. Instead, I give him a wry smile. “What are we going to do about our parents?”