Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
I squeeze my brother’s hands and gently disentangle myself. “Icarus—”
“No, don’t say anything now. I know I’ve shocked you. Let’s just eat and spend some time together. Just…think about what I said. Please. I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to you.”
He’s all but guaranteed that I won’t think of anything else. I knew my brother was reckless and occasionally self-destructive, but this is a whole different level even for him. I don’t even know how to process it.
But I can do as he asked. I can give him a safe space, at least for the moment. I feed him blueberry pancakes and then we turn on some reality television that almost—almost—allows me to escape the new weight pressing down on my shoulders.
At least until Icarus leaves and I’m left on my own.
Then the thoughts come too fast, too frantic. I pace around the living room, but the movement isn’t enough to distract from the panic fluttering in my chest. I knew things were bad. Of course I did. I’ve been aware of my father’s distaste for us long as I can remember. He’s made no secret of the fact that neither I nor Icarus is good enough to be his child. But for all that, my brother got the brunt of our father’s anger. He’s the son, after all. He should be like our father: strong and brutal and ruthless to a fault. Minos never would have slept his way to secrets and used them for blackmail. If he knew what Icarus was doing, he would be incandescent with rage.
I don’t consciously make the decision to pull out my phone. I don’t think about the fact that I’m dialing a number I most certainly shouldn’t. It’s instinct driving me, the overwhelming feeling that will suck me under and drown me if I’m left sitting with it a moment longer. When I felt like this in the past, there was only one person I gravitated toward. Old habits die hard, I guess.
When Asterion answers, it isn’t with threats or a reminder of the danger he is to me. There’s actual concern in his voice. “What happened?”
A sob lodges itself in my chest. I’ve been running from feeling things for weeks now, and all it took was a single conversation with my brother to have it all come crashing down around me. I can’t stay here. Not right now. Not alone. “Where are you?” My voice breaks in the middle of the question.
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be outside. Meet me at the side door that you left from last time.” He hangs up before I can decide whether I want to argue.
What a joke. I was never going to argue. There’s only one reason I called him, and it’s because when the world becomes too overwhelming and I don’t think I can fight another second, I’ve always found Asterion. He’s created a safe harbor for me to weather the rain. At least until dawn. Until we have to go back to pretending.
I don’t give myself a chance to second-guess this decision. It’s child’s play to hack into the security system and put the cameras on a loop. I barely pause to grab my key and then I’m rushing down to street level, retracing my steps from the other night.
Only this time, Asterion’s waiting for me on the curb.
He doesn’t give me a chance to speak, not that I’m able to currently. Instead, he wraps an arm around my shoulder, tucking me into his jacket. Then we walk. I know our destination even before we turn the corner and stop in front of the door to his apartment. There’s no point in pretending we would end up anywhere else.
But what I didn’t expect is for him to have clothing waiting for me. He barely pauses to lock the door before he strips me out of my sweats and T-shirt in simple, efficient movements. And then he dresses me in a different pair of sweats and a different T-shirt. His clothing. It’s clean, but it still carries the scent of him.
I stare up at him, my heart in my throat. “Why?”
“It makes you feel better. Safe.”
He’s not wrong, but…I didn’t think he noticed. He’s never said anything about it before now. I used to pretend his shirts and sweatshirts ended up in my laundry by accident, that it was coincidence they never made their way back to him. I should’ve known better. Asterion notices everything.
He nudges me down onto the couch and sits next to me, draping one arm behind my back. An invitation, not a demand. I am seven different kinds of fool, because I don’t hesitate to crawl in his lap and let him wrap his arms around me. This is new. This is something we’ve never done. Before, when the walls started closing in on me and I would seek him out late at night, he wouldn’t say much at all. I’d sit on his bed while he played a handheld video game and I clutched my laptop, reading fanfic. Until the steady cadence of his breathing calmed mine and I could actually concentrate on the words I was attempting to read.