Page 7 of Sick Little Devotion

“It was fine. But I’m quitting the team,” he says as he plops down on my bed. “I can’t be away from the house for hours at a time.”

“No, please don’t.” I hug the towel around me. “I don’t want you to quit football.”

“Come on, Sara. It’s not as if it’s going to lead to a college scholarship—and even if it did, I’m not going to college. Not until you do.”

My brows furrow. “Why?”

Aiden has never mentioned this before. In fact, he has never talked to me about his future at all, in all our seven years of knowing each other. He was brought into the house when I was eight, almost nine. Right before my father passed away.

“Sara, stop. You know how I feel about you.”

“I don’t need you to be my protector, Aiden. You always just want to watch out for me, but I’m sixteen. I can drive. I can stay away from him.”

“But you couldn’t just a minute ago.” Aiden stands up, towering over me. We used to be almost the same height, until he suddenly shot up and I quit growing. “And I don’t blame you for that. I don’t want to go anywhere if it’s not with you.”

I blink up at him pursing my lips. “I don’t even know what you mean, Aiden.”

His mouth turns into a frown. “Don’t you get it? I feel like I only fucking exist to be here with you. You’re the only thing that matters to me.”

I want to read into his words and see him looking at me like something other than a pesky, needy little sister. But I’m scared to make that assumption.

My silence makes Aiden let out a heavy sigh. He slips past me to my dresser and pulls out a pair of my black underwear. He knows it’s my favorite color. He holds them out to me and then continues shuffling through the drawers before handing over a pair of pajama shorts and one of his T-shirts.

“I need a bra…” I say the words with heat in my cheeks.

“We’re sleeping. You won’t need one.”

I swallow hard and look away. Aiden and I have been secretly sharing a bed since I was eleven and began dealing with Ron’s creeping around me. But now, I feel self-conscious about it. Not because I don’t want to sleep with him—but because I want to sleep with him. I want him to touch me in all the ways he never has.

“Get dressed, please.” He says the words with a tense jaw. I reach for the clothes as he turns his back to me. I drop the towel to the floor and pull on my underwear and his shirt. I don’t want the shorts. They ride up at night. I kick them under the bed so he won’t notice. His shirt hangs past my ass anyway.

“Done.”

He turns to face me, his eyes sweeping over my figure. “Gorgeous, Sara. As always. Do you want me to braid your hair?”

I shake my head. “Not tonight.” I flip the covers back and climb in onto my side. He does the same, watching me.

“You know, we won’t always be here, in this house. I’ll buy us a nice place.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I roll onto my side, fighting the tears. I don’t want him to see me cry tears of relief that he thinks I’ll always be there—but also, I still feel like a leech.

The weight of his body lands on the mattress, and I hold my breath as he settles in. He always gives me space. But suddenly, an arm snakes around my waist. I gasp as he pulls me into the warmth of his body. My ass presses against him…

And I feel him.

Am I turning him on?

I bite down on my lip as he holds me in this new way. He’s held me against his chest before, but this… this is intimate.

I like it.

A lot.

“I’ll get you out of here. I promise. Sometimes I used to wish I never would’ve left the group home, but that was before I realized my purpose was you.”

I choke back the tears. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He brushes my hair out of my face, and his lips land lightly on my cheek. He tightens his grip. “I love you, Sara. Always.”