Page 17 of Too Hostile

I was his favorite punching bag, but I told myself it wasn’t so bad. That his house was pretty close to where Rhett was staying. That Bree was happy and settled with Rhys and Blair already. That I didn’t want to shake everything up.

But then there they were. They pulled up and scooped me out of hell.

“I’m okay, Bree.”

She reaches up and cups my cheek, similar to the way Professor Barlowe did only hours ago. This touch is different though. It’s comforting, but even through the haze of my panic attack when Barlowe touched me, I could feel the heat. The spark of his firm yet gentle, commanding touch.

I lean into Bree for a moment and then take her hand in mine. “I really am okay. I hate when this happens, I do. It’s fucking embarrassing.”

She shakes her head. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

I wave that off because yeah, I’m embarrassed as hell. “I’m okay. I just needed to...” To what? Push it all away, I guess. Take some time with it? I don’t really know.

She squeezes my hand and then lays her head back on my shoulder. “If you need anything... if you need to talk to someone...”

“I’m talking to someone right now,” I say with a smile.

I can feel her shaking her head. “You know what I mean.”

I do. Blair had us all going to therapy for a while. She wanted to make sure we were okay, and I understood that, though, it didn’t do much for me. Bree still goes though, and I’m happy as hell that it seems to work for her. “I do, and I really don’t need therapy or pills. I have it under control.”

“We all deal with it in our own way,” she says, and I hear no judgment in her tone. None whatsoever because she knows.

“If I ever feel like I don’t have it under control, I’ll get help. I promise.”

She nods again. “I know you will.”

We’re quiet for a while, just staring out at the lake with her lying her head on my shoulder and my arm around her. Some people may question whether the love between us ever crossed a line, since we aren’t blood-related, and while Bree is gorgeous, it’s never been like that between us.

Not ever. She’s always been my little sister from the day we met. And there was a time when she was in love with Rhett. Like actual love. But he didn’t feel the same about her. I know that hurt her, but I think she realized it never would have worked between them.

That Rhett was meant for Grayson. And she seems content these days—especially since she finally told us about going to New York. “Blair driving you crazy with planning?”

She laughs. “Not really. She’s so damn excited, Fletch.”

I grin. “She loves you.”

“She loves us all,” she says simply, and yeah, she really does. There’s no denying that.

I think that’s another way I chase away the bad memories. She’s placed so many good ones over the bad.

“So, this hot professor?” Bree prompts, and I bark out a quick laugh because, oh yeah, I kind of let that slip, and of course she isn’t going to let that go.

“He hates me, Bree.”

“He?” she asks, but there really isn’t any surprise there. Or any judgment. Not that I would expect there to be from her.

“Yes, he,” I state firmly, happy to finally be talking about this with her too.

“Huh,” she says and then leans up to look at my face. “So I don’t want to assume because I’m not an asshole, but since I’ve seen your tongue shoved down more women’s throats than I’d like...” She shudders, and I roll my eyes and laugh.

“I’m into both,” I answer the question she never really got to. “I’m bisexual.”

“Cool,” she says effortlessly and lays her head back down on my shoulder.

“Yeah, I mean, I think I’m into both genders equally. I haven’t really figured out my exact Kinsey Scale score, but I think I’m pretty firmly in the middle.”

She laughs and shakes her head at me. “I’m not at all surprised that you’ve overanalyzed the hell out of your sexuality.”

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