“I know you’re right,” I whisper. “And most days, I agree with you. I guess I’m just extra emotional today.”
“That’s okay, baby sister,” he says with a small smile. “I’ll be here on those emotional days to remind you how amazing you are. And you know what else?”
“What?” I murmur.
“Tank will be too.”
I can’t help it. I smile.
“Speaking of,” he continues, eyeing me carefully, “how much longer are you going to make him suffer for being an idiot for so long?”
I stare at the ceiling for a moment, gathering my thoughts through the fog in my head.
“I think he’s suffered enough,” I admit quietly. “I’m tired of pretending I’m perfectly happy without him. I even tried, Bubby. I tried to move on. To build something else. But it always circles back to him. It always comes back to Tank. I love him so much.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he says softly.
“We’ve already talked about how I feel about… what happened,” I continue. “He pretty much said everything you did. I just…” I swallow. “I just hope it didn’t change something in me. When it comes to… the intimate things. I don’t know if my heart will react the same. Or my body.”
Spike immediately groans.
“I do not want to hear about you and Tank’s intimate anything,” he grumbles. “No matter how much I approve of that idiot, he’s still not good enough for you. No one is.”
Despite myself, I laugh weakly.
“But,” he adds, his tone turning serious again, “he is the one I trust the most with your heart. And your safety.”
He leans down and presses his forehead to mine.
“You are still you,” he whispers. “Nothing that monster did changed that.”
Heavy bootsteps make their way across the room and stop somewhere close behind me.
Neither of us looks immediately.
But I know.
I feel him.
Tank doesn’t speak right away. He must have heard at least part of it. Maybe all of it.
Spike straightens slowly and steps back.
“She’s all yours,” my brother says quietly, his voice carrying a warning and a blessing all at once.
Then he walks past Tank and out the door.
Silence settles.
I finally open my eyes.
Tank is standing just inside the room in a clean T-shirt and sweats, hair still slightly damp from a quick shower. His jaw is tight. His eyes are darker than usual.
Not angry.
Wounded.
Determined, maybe?
