Page 67 of Brody
I woke slowly, gradually becoming aware of unfamiliar warmth surrounding me.My body felt impossibly relaxed, muscles I hadn’t realized were perpetually tense now unwound completely.A steady rhythm beat beneath my ear, the sound strangely comforting.Sandalwood and citrus filled my lungs, wrapping around me like an invisible blanket.
My eyes snapped open as consciousness fully returned.Horror flooded through me as I realized my position.
Somehow during the night, I’d actively moved toward Brody.
I should move away.Create distance.But my body refused to cooperate.This, his warmth, his scent, his heartbeat beneath my cheek, was the most peaceful I’d felt in a long time.
Panic shot through me.I shouldn’t need this.Couldn’t need him.I’d built my entire life around never again depending on someone who could leave.
“I’m awake.”His deep voice rumbled through his chest beneath my ear.“Have been since you moved closer.”
I tensed.Thank goodness for the darkness that hid my expression.“I didn’t mean to?—”
“I know,” he interrupted softly, his voice little more than a whisper in the moonlit room.“You don’t have to move unless you want to.”
The lack of triumph or smugness in his tone gave me pause.I heard only gentle acceptance, an acknowledgment of this unexpected moment without demanding or expecting more.
I should pull away.Put distance between us.But the words that came out of my mouth surprised even me.“How long have your symptoms been getting worse?”
His body stiffened slightly beneath mine, but his arm remained gentle around my shoulders.“The tremors started six months ago.At first, I could hide them.”
“Why didn’t you reach out for help sooner?”I asked, my voice matching his whispered tone.There was something about speaking in darkness that made honesty easier, as if the words might dissolve with the dawn.
A long pause followed, his heartbeat accelerating slightly beneath my ear.“Pride.Fear,” he finally admitted.“The belief I deserved it for what I did to you.”
My throat tightened at the raw honesty in his voice.
“No one deserves this, Brody,” I said softly.“Not even you.”
He tightened his arm fractionally around me, as if my words had touched something vulnerable.“That might be the nicest thing you’ve said to me since arriving in the Ridge.”
The gentle teasing broke some of the tension, and I found myself smiling despite everything.“Don’t get used to it.”
His free hand came up, hesitated, then gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.The touch was featherlight, almost reverent, and sent electricity cascading down my spine.I should have pulled away.Instead, I found myself leaning into the contact ever so slightly.
“Your hair,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.“Since Kenya, I’ve dreamed about touching it.”
The confession, so simple yet so intimate, made my heart stutter in my chest.For years, I’d told myself he’d forgotten me entirely, moved on without a backward glance.The thought that he’d carried memories of me through all those years hit me with unexpected force.
We lay in silence for several moments, the moonlight painting silver patterns across the bed.Against my better judgment, I remained where I was, telling myself this was just biology, just chemicals and hormones and nothing that could break me if I lost it again.
His fingers traced idle patterns on my shoulder.His left hand, the one not holding me, rested on his stomach near mine.Even in the dim light, I could see the subtle tremor running through it, the fingers twitching with involuntary movements.
Without conscious thought, I moved my hand to cover his, my fingers wrapping around his larger ones.The trembling continued for a moment, then gradually stilled beneath my touch.
“The mate bond’s proximity effect is already stabilizing your symptoms,” I observed aloud.
“Yes,” he agreed simply, no triumph in his voice, just acknowledgment of the biological reality.
The implications terrified me.If my mere touch could calm his tremors, what might full acceptance of the mate bond do?The data point confirmed everything I’d theorized about mate ties and neural stabilization, yet this wasn’t a clinical trial with an anonymous subject.This was Brody.This was us.
“It scares you,” he said, not a question but a statement of fact.
“Yes.”I saw no point in denying the obvious.
“Me too,” he admitted, surprising me.“Not the symptoms or what’s happening to me.The idea that after years of thinking I was protecting you by staying away, it turns out I was wrong.That all this time…”
His fingers tentatively interlaced with mine where our hands met, the simple gesture more intimate than our naked encounter in the pool had been.Skin against skin, palm to palm, our hands fitting together as perfectly as they had when we were eighteen.I should have pulled away.Instead, I found myself tightening my grip ever so slightly.
