Page 66 of Xavier

She only comes out of the bedroom to eat and goes downstairs to shower or soak in the tub. Depression must be kicking in, but John has demanded that we stay inside the house.

Our groceries have been delivered by one of John’s friends. After talking with him for a few minutes, I discovered that he’s the one that watches over this house and had the basement room added a couple of years ago.

I’ve tried arguing with John that natural vitamin D from the sun and making a quick trip to the grocery store so she can interact with the locals will help perk Brianna back up, but John immediately shut my idea down.

I had to bite my tongue because I’m the one here with her, watching as her mood continues to drop day by day.

He’s not here. He’s not watching her mood swings and loss of appetite.

I am. And I should be the one making her happy. I don’t need permission. I’m perfectly capable of keeping her safe.

A growl rips from my throat as I turn off the treadmill and head upstairs.

Thank God, I found the gym downstairs. I’ve practically lived down there, needing to work the sexual tension out of my system.

I’ve been rock hard since the night of the bonfire. She was sultry, dangerous, and I needed to know more.

Being here, alone with her, has only made the desire burn hotter. When she asked me to kiss her, I just knew I’d combust.

“Damn it.” I murmur as all the blood in my body flows straight to my dick.

I’m a grown ass man. I’m not a horny twenty something year old looking for a tight hole to put my dick in.

But she makes me feel young again.

She makes me feel alive.

Willing my dick down, I lift my fist and knock on her bedroom door.

She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t get up. There’s no movement inside the room.

I knock again and whisper, “Bri?”

Still no movement.

Is she still asleep?

I knock and speak louder. “Brianna?”

Nothing. Not a peep or rustling of the sheets.

I crack open the door but don’t look inside. “Would you like some breakfast?”

Or lunch, since it’s almost one in the afternoon.

“I’m not hungry.” Her voice cracks, causing my heart to tighten with sadness.

We can’t keep living like this. I scoff to myself.

This isn’t living. This is just existing. I’ve been here before. Multiple times. It’s not healthy, and it never ends well.

I poke my head through the crack in the door. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Her voice comes out deflated, soft, and void of any happiness.

She scoots toward the middle of the bed, leaving enough room on the edge for me to sit next to her.

Her eyes are puffy and red, like she’s been crying, but her cheeks are bone dry. Is that how she fell asleep last night? Crying because her life has been flipped upside down for weeks?

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