Bad Wolf(38)

"Wait, Gigi."

"My home," I clarify. "To dry you, warm you up and eat cake my mom baked. Best thing for the soul, I swear."

His mouth twists, and trembles, and suddenly all I want is to hug him. The receptionist's words come back to me-about his mom getting worse, about him being devastated.

My heart aches for him.

"Why?" he whispers. "Why are you doing this?"

Because the good things you do deserve a reward, even a small one like this. Everything you do has a consequence, good or bad, and you visiting your mom, caring for her, deserves cake.

But I don't say that, not even sure it makes sense.

I just tug on his hand again, and request an Uber on my phone. "Let's just go."





Chapter Twenty-Two





Jarett





I can't remember what happened. One minute I was with Mom, and she was trying to talk to me, but she couldn't find the words, and then …

And then I was out in the rain, and Gigi was there, her small, warm hand held in mine.

It's like a time jump, back to school when she used to walk beside me, chattering about everything and nothing, soothing my angry, bitter thoughts. She's like warm, golden syrup, molding over my hard edges, calming me down, shoring me up.

Making the bitter sweet.

Even though I can't remember where she said she's taking me. Not that I care. I'd go anywhere with her. Do fucking anything for her. But as my senses return, as I start to shiver and notice where we are-a car, an Uber?-I wish I knew the answer.

To where we are going, to why she's here with me, and where my life is heading. Nowhere good, I guess.

But she's here now, and her hand is still in mine, so I wrap it carefully in my fingers, like the precious thing it is.

"Almost there," she says, and I look up to find her smiling at me.

I smile back, uncertain. "Okay."

I feel I skipped time. Or is this a dream? It's damn warm in the car, and another shiver wracks me. I'm soaking wet, cold water running from the ends of my hair into my eyes. If it's a dream, it's a good one, despite the shivers. She's looking at me without anger or regret, and I'm happy. Happier than I've been in a very long time.

Better not poke the dream too hard, or it might burst like a soap bubble, and right now it's all that's keeping me from going off the fucking rails.

"Here." Her slender fingers squeeze mine, and the car stops. She climbs out, never letting go, so I have no option but to follow her out.

I don't want options. I just want her to stay with me, now, later …  for as long as she'll have me.

She's my only option, my only choice, and …  I don't wanna remember now all the reasons why I shouldn't be here with her.

Even when I'm standing beside her in front of a house, and realize it's her house.

She brought me to her home.

It shouldn't matter. It shouldn't hit me like a ton of bricks, but this trust after today's fucked-up ending, after realizing Mom is getting worse so fucking fast …  it's about to break me. I can't be here. Can't do this.                       
       
           



       

But she smiles up at me again, and tugs once more on my hand, and I follow her.

I'll always follow her.

She's my bright light.



We climb the steps to the porch. The door swings open before we reach it, and yeah, this definitely feels like a time loop. Or dream.

Because I know the guy standing at the opening. Barely, as I'd never been to Gigi's house back when we were neighbors, but I remember her brother from school.

Merc.

He gives me a long look, obviously caught by surprise at my presence on his doorstep. If I'd realized what it meant to visit her home …

But then his expression clears. "Jarett, right?" he says, as if we're old friends, and opens the door wider, a grin spreading on his face. "Come on in, man. Damn, you're all wet. Your lips are fucking blue. Were you walking in the rain?"

"Something like that," I say through chattering teeth when it becomes obvious he's waiting for an answer, and Gigi is yanking on my hand to get me inside.

"How about making us all some hot chocolate, Merc?" she says, and he nods, as if that's normal. That she'd ask her brother for hot chocolate, and he'd make it.

Like that's what brothers are like. Like Seb could have been like that with me, but …

Fuck, there's a knot in my throat, like earlier tonight, not letting me breathe. I'm choking on air, and warmth, and kindness, and it's so fucked-up.

Yanking my hand away, I walk away, into another random room, trying to get oxygen into my lungs, and failing. I clench my fists and bow my head, and I just want to crash the whole place down, smash and break and bleed until the fucking pressure in my chest goes away.

"Rett … " She comes behind me, walking so softly I start at the sound of her voice.

I expect her to ask me if I'm okay, what happened, what the fuck's going on with me and why I'm acting like an asshole again, but she doesn't say anything else.

Then I expect her to go away and leave me alone, but she doesn't.

I wait and wait, but she's quiet, just …  being there, and the pressure in my chest builds and builds.

And right about when I can't take it any longer, she puts her arms around me from behind and just holds me.

Through the jacket, through the layers of cloth between us, I feel the slight pressure of her tits, of her body pressed to mine, her arms bracing me like a lifeline, keeping me afloat.

Air trickles into my lungs. I draw a shuddering breath, and another.

Fuck.

"It's okay," she says, her voice soft like velvet. "It's okay."

And just like that, my breath catches again.

She has to stop ambushing me with kindness. It's my weak point.

She's my weak point. If anything can take me down, it's her. I wonder if she has any idea of all the power she has over me.

Of what I'd do for her.

I draw another shaky breath. "Gigi … "

"Are you guys rea-? Shit, sorry." Merc's voice fades, and I hear his steps retreat.

Gigi laughs quietly. "Come on. I think the hot chocolate is ready."

Again I expect her to ask me something, anything, but she just holds out her hand, and I take it, and we return to the living room where Merc is setting up coasters with huge mugs of hot chocolate and plates of cake, and it's unreal.

"You need to change first," Merc says, all business-like, not like he walked in to find me trying not to fall apart with his sister soothing me. "I can give you some old sweats of mine. Come."

My fingers slip from Gigi's, and I wince. It's like a physical pain every time I let go, a visceral fear that I won't get to do it again.

Merc points me to a bathroom, then comes back with a towel and some clothes that he shoves into my arms. "Change, and come back," he says, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

He's so …  cool, I think, as I shiver so hard my teeth rattle. Composed. Nice. I wonder again for a brief second how it would be to have Merc for a brother, and I stop that line of thinking quickly before it goes downhill once more.

I'm glad Gigi has him, though.

With that thought, I manage to steady myself enough to undress, get dry and pull on the borrowed clothes. The sweats are fine, with pockets where I shove my keys and my wallet. The T-shirt and sweater are kind of narrow at the shoulders and chest, but I can breathe, so it's fine.

I can fucking breathe. It's easier when she's around, and the memory of her arms around me is a hot sear of pleasure straight to my chest. Like a hot blade cutting through me, but sweet. Far too sweet for the mess I'm in.

Toweling my wet hair one last time, I try to marshal my scattered thoughts, and then I hear her calling my name.                       
       
           



       

And I get out, towel in hand, heading to her, before my brain catches up.

I can't fucking help myself when it comes to her. That's the one truth in my life, the one true thing in all the lies I keep telling myself to keep sane.



I limp out into the living room, my knee aching like a bitch from the cold, but I forget all about it cuz it's warm inside, and Gigi's curled up on the sofa, changing channels on the TV.

With her pale hair in a long braid falling over one shoulder, her socked feet folded under her, her short skirt riding up, she's …  hot. This girl is so damn hot. She's holding her mug in her other hand, and she licks her lips absently as I pad quietly into the room.

Fuck. Me. A hot wave of arousal hits me, and I swallow hard, my borrowed sweats suddenly tightening at the crotch.

She glances at me and smiles, her gaze zeroing in between my legs, and shit, I want her so fucking bad I'm ready to push her down on the sofa and fuck her right here, consequences be damned.

"Sit with me," she says, and her voice sounds a bit uneven, like she's out of breath.

"Why don't you sit on me instead?" My voice is rough like I've been smoking too many cigarettes.

"Rett … " She licks her lips again, and I want to push her sweater up and lick her nipples, then make my way down to her pussy, fuck her with my tongue and fingers until she comes. I remember her taste, and the memory only serves to make me harder, until my dick's trying to drill a hole through the sweats.