I know. I slam my hand over his mouth as if I can keep his hoarse moans inside any more than I can my own. But it’s a wild river running down a mountain. I come with a strangled shout, and Tanner comes too. Wet heat pulses everywhere. I can’t stop moving until he stills me within the cage of his strong arms. He holds me so tight I can’t breathe, but I don’t need air. For this long, mind-fucking moment, I just need him.
Maybe I pass out. I’m not sure, but sometime later, the world solidifies enough for me to notice his embrace has loosened, and he’s watching the rain batter the windows.
I raise my body from him, ignoring the sticky mess between us. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”
“Hmm?” His gaze is lazy, not distant, and I feel like an idiot.
But it’s fleeting. Tanner makes me feel so many things, but never stupid. He helps me clamber off him and lie down, then he disappears and comes back with something warm and wet to clean us both up.
That done, he throws the bedsheets we’ve kicked to the floor back on the bed and stretches out beside me.
It’s a cold night. I drop my head on his chest and he grips my knee to hook my leg over him. He cards the fingers of one hand through my hair, and splays his warm palm over the scars on my hip with the other. It’s as close to perfect as I’ve ever known. I could sleep. But I don’t, and neither does he. He takes slow, measured breaths. The silence is a cocoon I know he enjoys, so he surprises me when he speaks.
“What did Jerry tell you about what happened when I worked for him?”
I sit up, propping my head on my folded arm. “He told me a man died on an overnight camping trip and it wasn’t your fault.”
“What else?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that was it, but it’s a lie. He deserves the truth. “He said it fucked you up, and he felt really guilty about it.”
Tanner studies something beyond my shoulder before he looks back at me with clearer eyes than I’m prepared for. “He has nothing to feel guilty for. I was fucked up before that.”
“He said that too, kind of.”
“Did he tell you what I did to Gabi?”
“What? No. He didn’t say anything about Gabriel except that you both knew the trails better than him.”
“Oh. I thought he told you everything. At least, I think I did. I blocked it out.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I run out of bandwidth sometimes.”
“Can relate.”
“I know.” Tanner shifts onto his side so we’re nose to nose. We tumbled into bed drunk on cider and each other, but we’re sober now. Life has caught up with us. “I’m a terrible brother.”
“No, you’re not. Eve told me you and Gabriel are as close as twins.”
“That’s why I’m a terrible brother. I didn’t care that I’d hurt him.”
“Hurt him? How?”
“After what happened last year, I got really sick.” He taps his temple. “Up here. Or maybe I was sick before then. I don’t know anymore. Whatever. I made a plan to kill myself, then I got blackout drunk and told Gabi all about it—told him I didn’t care that I was his only family because he was a shitty brother anyway and I was tired of having to worry about him.”
“Did you mean it?”
“Which part?”
“That he’s a shitty brother.” I don’t need him to tell me he was serious about the first part. I know it in every fiber I have.
“Of course I didn’t mean it. But I was so fucking sick, I just wanted him to leave me alone.”
“I’m guessing he didn’t, as you’re still here.”
Tanner lets a humorless chuckle fall from his lips. “He threw me in a mental health facility, and I stayed there until I could function well enough to come home.”
