know.
His breath hitches in his throat, comes out in a jagged exhale, his eyes a perfect blue sea again. "Really?"
I nod and smile. "But I'm fine now. Though it's your fault I'm all skinny again, just thought you should know."
The smile doesn't transfer to his face as he leans over and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, shaking his head. And if I ever needed an apology from him, more of it than I'll ever know what to do with is spilling from his eyes now. "I thought you were getting stronger. That you'd just end up hating me and that would be that."
I press my thumb to his lips, tracing them. "I don't think I'll ever hate you, Scott."
"You were pretty mean to me in the beginning," he says and those hounding memories shoot into my mind, but I won't let them surface. Ever again. "I thought you could just go back to that."
"I didn't tell you this to make you feel bad," I say. "I actually have no idea why I did."
"How am I supposed to not feel bad?" he mutters, his breath moist against my fingers.
He jerks up and pulls me into an embrace, his arms so tight around me I can't move.
"I missed you so much, Gail," he says and kisses my forehead. "I was seriously planning on coming back after New Year's and fuck everything else."
"But you like it here," I say. "And you're safe. So how about that breakfast?"
He lets me go and I throw the covers off the both of us. The cold air hits my skin like a slap, and my teeth are chattering by the time I finally dig out a pair of sweats from my suitcase and join him in the kitchen. It's warm in there, and the smell of eggs cooking makes my mouth water.
I eat them sitting in his lap, because I'm still very cold and he doesn't mind at all.
"We should go into town," I mutter running my fingers through his hair, staring at the flames licking the logs in the fireplace. "I never paid them for my food on the night I got here."
It's been three days since then. Or maybe four. I've lost count. Time ceased moving when I entered this cozy cabin in the woods.
He burrows his head deeper into my lap. "We can go tomorrow. They're easy like that here."
"How much trouble would you be in if we went back home?" I ask, running my hand down his neck, his heart beat speeding up against my fingertips.
"It's too soon," he mutters. "Mike needs some more time to adjust to me wanting out."
"But how can he force you to do something you don't want to do?" I ask. "He's your brother."
"That's exactly why he wants me to help him," Scott answers, his whole body tense now. "Not that there's ever been much brotherly love lost between us. He's despised me from birth."
"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," I say and pull my hand away as he sits up, lacing his fingers in front of him, staring off into the flames.
"There you go again with the platitudes," he says, and the temperature in the room drops. "You don't know what you're talking about, so maybe you shouldn't."
I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back into the cushions. "I know I want you to come home."
"Look, Gail, I really fucked up by getting arrested," he says rubbing a thin white scar on the side of his wrist with his thumb. "Like completely. And now Mike's stuck putting the pieces back together, and I probably should be helping him. But if they catch me again, I'm going away for a long time. As in longer than three weeks."
His black eyes pierce me as he finishes, begging me to argue so he can really start lashing out.
"Well, how did you get caught the first time? Just don't do that again and you'll be fine," I spit out, with no idea where the words are coming from. But it's like his anger is coursing through me too.
"That was all just sheer stupidity and bad luck. And all my own fault," he says, his eyes losing the gleaming black edge, melting back to a softer brown.
The anger leaves me too, as easily as it started, and maybe it's because I can hardly feel him in the room with me.
"What happened?" I ask, grabbing hold
His breath hitches in his throat, comes out in a jagged exhale, his eyes a perfect blue sea again. "Really?"
I nod and smile. "But I'm fine now. Though it's your fault I'm all skinny again, just thought you should know."
The smile doesn't transfer to his face as he leans over and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, shaking his head. And if I ever needed an apology from him, more of it than I'll ever know what to do with is spilling from his eyes now. "I thought you were getting stronger. That you'd just end up hating me and that would be that."
I press my thumb to his lips, tracing them. "I don't think I'll ever hate you, Scott."
"You were pretty mean to me in the beginning," he says and those hounding memories shoot into my mind, but I won't let them surface. Ever again. "I thought you could just go back to that."
"I didn't tell you this to make you feel bad," I say. "I actually have no idea why I did."
"How am I supposed to not feel bad?" he mutters, his breath moist against my fingers.
He jerks up and pulls me into an embrace, his arms so tight around me I can't move.
"I missed you so much, Gail," he says and kisses my forehead. "I was seriously planning on coming back after New Year's and fuck everything else."
"But you like it here," I say. "And you're safe. So how about that breakfast?"
He lets me go and I throw the covers off the both of us. The cold air hits my skin like a slap, and my teeth are chattering by the time I finally dig out a pair of sweats from my suitcase and join him in the kitchen. It's warm in there, and the smell of eggs cooking makes my mouth water.
I eat them sitting in his lap, because I'm still very cold and he doesn't mind at all.
"We should go into town," I mutter running my fingers through his hair, staring at the flames licking the logs in the fireplace. "I never paid them for my food on the night I got here."
It's been three days since then. Or maybe four. I've lost count. Time ceased moving when I entered this cozy cabin in the woods.
He burrows his head deeper into my lap. "We can go tomorrow. They're easy like that here."
"How much trouble would you be in if we went back home?" I ask, running my hand down his neck, his heart beat speeding up against my fingertips.
"It's too soon," he mutters. "Mike needs some more time to adjust to me wanting out."
"But how can he force you to do something you don't want to do?" I ask. "He's your brother."
"That's exactly why he wants me to help him," Scott answers, his whole body tense now. "Not that there's ever been much brotherly love lost between us. He's despised me from birth."
"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," I say and pull my hand away as he sits up, lacing his fingers in front of him, staring off into the flames.
"There you go again with the platitudes," he says, and the temperature in the room drops. "You don't know what you're talking about, so maybe you shouldn't."
I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back into the cushions. "I know I want you to come home."
"Look, Gail, I really fucked up by getting arrested," he says rubbing a thin white scar on the side of his wrist with his thumb. "Like completely. And now Mike's stuck putting the pieces back together, and I probably should be helping him. But if they catch me again, I'm going away for a long time. As in longer than three weeks."
His black eyes pierce me as he finishes, begging me to argue so he can really start lashing out.
"Well, how did you get caught the first time? Just don't do that again and you'll be fine," I spit out, with no idea where the words are coming from. But it's like his anger is coursing through me too.
"That was all just sheer stupidity and bad luck. And all my own fault," he says, his eyes losing the gleaming black edge, melting back to a softer brown.
The anger leaves me too, as easily as it started, and maybe it's because I can hardly feel him in the room with me.
"What happened?" I ask, grabbing hold
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