Page 81 of When the Storm Breaks
“Who is she?”
The question knocks me off balance.
I furrow my brow. “Who is who?”
Her glassy eyes search mine, still alert despite the haze of exhaustion.
“The girl,” she says. “On your bookshelf.”
A wave of nausea rolls through me. For a second, I think I might be the next one sprawled across the bathroom floor.
Of all the things she could’ve brought up right now, this is the last I expected. Instinct tells me to brush it off, deflect. But there’s something about the way she’s looking at me—like she deserves the truth.
I swallow hard.
“My sister,” I say finally, voice low.
She doesn’t respond.
I shift the focus, lowering to my knees in front of her.
My fingers move to the waistband of her jeans—undoing the button, slipping beneath the fabric. Her skin is warm beneath myhand. Warmer than I expected. Careful. Measured. Burning.
I tug gently, peeling the denim down inch by inch, revealing the smooth line of her thighs, the soft curve of her hips.
It’s a slow, torturous unveiling.
She trusts me too much, and it’s messing with my head.
When her jeans pool at her ankles, I lift her left foot, guiding it free, then do the same with the right.
I look up.
There’s heat in her gaze—subtle, but unmistakable. And for a second, it feels like she’s seeing straight through me. Seeing every single way I’m falling apart right now.
She’s beautiful. Achingly so.
I push to my feet, dragging in a slow breath, trying to reel myself back in.
“The butterfly… and the crane.”
I freeze. My pulse trips.
“What about them?” I ask, my voice rough.
“You made them?”
I nod, stiffly. My throat tightens. “Yeah.”
She tilts her head, studying me like she’s pulling me apart piece by piece.
“Why?”
My jaw tics. “It’s just… something I learned a long time ago.”
Her gaze dips. She sways slightly. Exhaustion is pulling her under.
I inhale slowly.Stay focused, Haiyden.
