Page 19 of Crush & Byte
I felt the weight of their gazes, heavy as stones.The quilt had become a shield, a barrier between me and their scrutiny.I pulled it tighter still.“If I stayed in one place too long, I felt trapped.Like I was living life on someone else’s terms.Every rule, every expectation… they felt like chains.So I wander from place to place because it’s the only way I feel like I’m free to do what I want.I work where I want.I stay someplace until I didn’t want to anymore -- for whatever reason.Then I leave.”
My voice had grown smaller with each confession, like I was retreating back into that invisible girl from my youth, bringing unexpected tears I had to really work to fight back.“The first time I left on my own terms, not running away from a foster home but just moving on, I felt powerful.Like I finally had control over something in my life.No one to tell me I couldn’t, no paperwork to fill out, no social workers.Just me, making a choice.”
I chanced a glance up at them.Crush’s face was a mask, his eyes dark and intent.Byte’s expression was more open, analytical yet compassionate, like he was putting together pieces of a puzzle.
“After that,” I continued, “leaving became my defense mechanism.My superpower.”I attempted a smile, but it felt as fragile as it probably looked.“Any time things got complicated or hard or too real, I’d leave.New town, new job, new me.It’s safer that way.For my heart.”
“Safer,” Crush repeated, the word a low rumble.“But lonely.”
I nodded, unable to deny it.“Sometimes.But lonely is predictable.Lonely doesn’t disappoint you or let you down.Or try to control you.”
“Lonely doesn’t love you either,” Byte said softly.“Or support you when you need a little help.Or give you a hug when you need it.”
The truth of his words struck me like a physical blow.I turned back to the fire, watching the flames devour the logs, turning solid matter into light and heat and ash.There was a metaphor there somewhere, but I was too raw to find it.
“You know, I used to want a real family.I used to daydream about it.Having Christmas mornings with presents under a tree and birthday cakes with my name on it in icing meant only for me.”The admission tasted bitter, like admitting to a childish fantasy.“But dreams like that are dangerous when you don’t control any aspect of your life.They make you vulnerable.”
“Not everyone will use that power to hurt you, River,” Crush said, his voice gentler than I’d ever heard it.He reached out again, his large hand coming to rest over mine once again.The weight of it was grounding, an anchor in the storm of memories I’d unleashed.
“Some people are worth the risk,” Byte added, his expression thoughtful.His eyes, so eerily perceptive, seemed to see straight through to the heart of me, to all my fears and defenses and carefully constructed walls.
I shook my head, not in disagreement but in wonder.“How can you be so sure?How do you know who’s worth the risk and who isn’t?”
“You don’t,” Crush said simply, his hand still warm on my shoulder.“That’s the risk part.”
“But sometimes,” Byte’s gaze captured mine with intent.“Sometimes, you just know.Like instinct.Like something clicks into place and you think, ‘Oh, there you are.I’ve been looking for you.’”
The way he said it, with such quiet certainty, made my heart stutter in my chest.No one had ever looked at me the way these two men were looking at me now -- like I mattered, like I was worth seeing, worth knowing, worth the risk.And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I found myself wanting to stay.
The cabin fell silent except for the low crackle of the fire.My confession hung in the air between us, words I couldn’t take back, vulnerabilities I couldn’t hide again.I’d just laid myself bare to two men I barely knew yet somehow trusted more than anyone I’d ever known in my life.Other than possibly Maggie.The realization terrified me yet somehow felt liberating.I drew a shaky breath, suddenly exhausted from the emotional excavation.
Byte shifted forward in his seat, the movement drawing my attention like a magnet.His eyes, so startlingly blue in the firelight, fixed on my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle.There was something different in his expression now.Like he’d made a decision or crossed some invisible threshold.
“River,” he said, my name sounding different somehow in his mouth, weighted with meaning.“What if I told you that you don’t ever have to choose?”
I blinked, not comprehending.“Choose what?”
“Between us.”His voice was steady, matter of fact, as if he were discussing the weather rather than something that made my heart stutter in my chest.“What if I told you that you could have both of us?Always.You’d have the two of us putting you first.Above even each other because you’re ours to protect.Which means, we work together to keep you safe and happy.”
The words hung in the air, impossible to misinterpret.I froze, my body going completely still as my mind raced to process what he was suggesting.My lips parted, but no sound emerged.I couldn’t have spoken if my life depended on it.My heart raced with a kind of terror reserved for the slasher films of the eighties.And, oh my God, as much as I wanted to close my eyes against the carnage about to ensue to my heart, I sat there transfixed in horrified fascination as I watched the emotional trainwreck about to happen in my near future.
Crush was watching me closely, his expression unreadable in the half-light.“Breathe, River,” he said quietly.
I realized I’d been holding my breath and let it out in a rush.“You can’t be serious,” I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
“We don’t joke about this,” Byte said, his eyes never leaving mine.“Not with you.Ever.This is as serious as it gets.”
My gaze darted between them, searching for any sign of mockery or manipulation.Finding none, I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the fire’s warmth.“Why would you… I don’t understand.”I had a moment to wonder if they thought I was opposed to the situation they were proposing or even repulsed by it, but I was too stunned to give it more than a passing thought.In my wildest imagination, this situation didn’t even make the top fifty.OK, that’s a lie.It was in the top three.But at the bottom because there was no way actually being with the two of them at the same time was a real possibility other than for casual sex.Mrs.Walsh would definitely not approve of casual sex with her beloved grandsons and, OMG,why did I have to think about Mrs.Walsh at a time like this?
The brothers exchanged another of those silent looks, a whole conversation compressed into a glance.After a moment, Crush nodded slightly, as if giving permission.“We lost our parents when we were kids,” Byte began, his voice taking on a detached quality that couldn’t quite mask the pain beneath.“We were in grade school.They stopped at a convenience store on their way home one night.Wrong place, wrong time.”
“There was a robbery,” Crush continued, his deep voice taking over the narrative.“Three men with guns.Our dad always stressed to us that a man takes care of the women in his life.Protects them.No matter what.”His hands resting on the table slowly curled into fists as he spoke.I watched his knuckles whiten, a physical manifestation of a decades’ old grief.“Years later, when we were teenagers, Maggie told us what really happened that night.”Crush’s voice dropped lower, rougher.“Our father fought them.With everything he had.But it was three against one.And they were all armed.Our dad wasn’t.”The flames popped and hissed in the silence that followed, shadows dancing across Crush’s face, highlighting the hard angles of his jaw, the furrow between his brows.
“They killed Mom first,” Byte picked up the thread, his voice eerily calm.“Made our father watch.Then they killed him too.”
I felt tears spring to my eyes, unbidden.For these men, for the boys they’d been, for the parents they’d lost.For Maggie.“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, knowing how inadequate the words were.
Crush nodded, acknowledging my sympathy without really accepting it.“Maggie raised us after that.Taught us everything we could coax from her.How to fight.How to think.How to survive.”
