“Not nearly as hard as it is for you,” he insisted. Standing up, he leaned over her bed. “Come here. I want to hold you.” It would feel like a thousand swords running him through at once, but he didn’t care—didn’t give a damn about anything but comforting his little sister.
“No, Reddix—you’ll hurt yourself!” Minda protested, shrinking away. “Your RTS is getting worse and—”
Someone cleared their throat behind him. Reddix turned in irritation. Who would dare to interrupt such a private, personal moment?
It was Nina, looking at him apologetically.
“Forgive me,” she said quietly. “But I thought…if there’s any way I can help…” She didn’t finish with words. Instead, she put one hand tentatively on the back of his neck.
The moment her cool, soft fingertips brushed his skin, Reddix had instant relief. The stabbing grief, the acid tears, the dark despair that had been creeping into his lungs with every breath suddenly vanished. He still felt sorrow but only his own—he sympathized with his little sister, but the emotional storm around her no longer felt like a personal, physical attack.
He sighed in relief and looked at Nina gratefully.
“Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “If you could just stand there…”
“Of course,” she murmured. “Go ahead—I won’t let go of you.”
Reddix turned back to his little sister.
“It’s all right,” he told Minda quietly. “This is Nina—she shuts off the RTS when she touches me. So now, come on …let me hold you.”
“Oh, Reddix…” Minda held up her arms, no longer refusing his comfort.
Reddix enfolded her gently, holding her just as he had when they were younger and she hurt herself and came crying to him because their parents were too busy to be bothered. He held her close and let her sob against his chest, cherishing this moment even though it hurt—loving Minda with all his heart and praying to the Goddess that she would live and be all right. That she would recover from this loss and not leave him.
And through it all, he felt Nina’s soft, gentle fingers on his neck. She stood there quietly, not speaking, guarding him, standing between him and the disease that had eaten his life and made such simple, physical contact impossible for so many years.
He was beyond grateful. Maybe she does care, whispered a little voice in his brain. Maybe she feels for you the way you feel for her.
Maybe.
* * * * *
Nina stood there quietly, making sure to keep skin-to-skin contact with Reddix while he held his sister and trying not to intrude on their reunion . Still, she couldn’t help watching the gentle way he held Minda or hearing the soothing, comforting words he whispered to her as he stroked her hair.
And as she watched, she felt her heart melting.
She’d been trying so hard to keep herself from falling for the big Kindred completely, reminding herself of how he’d kidnapped her, intending to offer her as a sacrifice to the witch. She’d told herself to remember every harsh word he’d ever said, every time he warned her away and told her to leave him alone because he would bring her nothing but pain.
But somehow, watching him hold his frail little sister in his arms and beg her to live, Nina couldn’t remember any of that. All she saw was a man filled with love and compassion—a man who only needed a little help to let those qualities out.
I could give him that help. I am giving him that help, she couldn’t help thinking. I could be there for him always. We could go somewhere deserted without many people. We could make a life together…
It was just a silly pipe dream, and she knew it. But still, she couldn’t get it out of her head.
At last Reddix murmured something in his sister’s ear, and she whispered, “All right.” When he sat up on the edge of the bed, still holding her hand, her face looked sad but serene. It was as though she had found a measure of peace in his arms she couldn’t find anywhere else.
“It’ll be all right,” Reddix said hoarsely, and Nina wasn’t sure if he was talking to his little sister or himself. “Everything is going to be all right. You’ll make it through this, Minda—the same way you helped me through when I was first diagnosed.”
“The doctor did say I could…could try again eventually,” she whispered. “But Reddix, I wanted this one so much.”
“I know,” he murmured, squeezing her hand.
“Not just for me, though,” Minda continued earnestly. “I wanted him for you, big brother.”
“For me?” Reddix looked confused. “Why?”