His eyes drop at our bodies touching. “Was.”
I suck in a breath as I hold him against me, our chests heaving against each other.
“I slowly, very slowly, survived you. I survived… and while I’ll never stop loving you…” I pause, holding his face between my shaky hands, “I learned to love again. I breathed life into myself again… None of it was easy, Joe—Liam and I… it wasn’t an easy decision…”
He instantly breaks inside and I feel it against my body, I circle my arms around his neck, kissing his soft skin under his ear.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know how not to love you and not to love your brother. I’m so sorry,” I say as he holds the back of my headagainst him, enlaced to another, forever linked to a love never truly lost, but never truly able to be found again either.
“What have I done, my baby?” he whispers, and kisses my temple, his lips staying a beat longer. “What have I done.”
It’s not a question, it’s an excruciating reveal of broken pieces leading to the unrepaired symphonies of a future we no longer know how to fit into. His vulnerability breaks me, his eyes drifting to my lips as he gently kisses me again, and with that, softly separates from me and hauls himself out of the pool, leaving me hollow.
The absence offeelingand feelingtoo muchcrashes over me like a tidal wave. Where there should be guilt, passion, anger, confusion—there’s just… emptiness.
A void where my heart should be.
I sink deeper into the water, letting it rise to my chin. I should feel something. Anything. The betrayal of kissing Joe while Liam recovers inside.
The complicated mess of loving two brothers simultaneously.
Instead, I float. Numb.
Forty
Liam
Ijolt awake from the pain searing across my chest, the familiar throb that's become my nighttime companion since getting shot. It’s about midnight, insomnia hitting hard. Sara's sleeping form curled against me is the only thing that soothes me.
My chest hurts but I'm healing well, that's what Damien and Mateo’s undercover doctor says, anyway. I would’ve had a lot of explaining to do if we didn’t have a system in place for my guys and myself with a doctor on call.
I study Sara's face in the dim light, her dark lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, her full lips slightly parted. I shiftcarefully, trying to draw her closer without waking her, I need her closer, I always need her closer. She murmurs something unintelligible, her hand instinctively moving to rest on my chest, then pulling back as if remembering my injuries. Even unconscious, she’s careful not to hurt me.
I run my fingers through her hair, this delicate treasure I don't deserve. The weight of everything crashes down on me as I stare at the ceiling. Joe's return has turned our world inside out. My brother, back from the dead after mourning him, burying him, except he was none of those things.
The guilt gnaws at me, I stole my dead brother's girlfriend, and now what? We're supposed to have Sunday dinners together? Act like normal brothers?
I press my lips against her forehead, inhaling her scent like it might be the last time. Because it could be.
The truth is, I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop. The days leading to healing, I've had thoughts I'm ashamed to admit. Pain meds and fever dreams twisted my mind into lingering unease; could I share her with Joe?
The idea made me physically ill, yet for a fleeting moment I considered it. Maybe that's what brothers do when their world turns inside out, and if God forbid that’s what she wants, perhaps it’s what she deserves after everything.
But when I watch her sleep, something primal rises in me. I've spent too much time lying to myself about Sara, pretending I haven’t wanted her from the very first time I saw her. I blinded Joe with my disapproval, let Sara believe I hated her when I've always felt this uncontrollable connection to her. I’ve overshadowed myself by rejecting her, but it's not something I can continue doing. Now the truth claws at my insides; I can't share her body, her laugh, the way she looks at me. She's mine. But what right do I have to claim her when Joe loved her first? When I stole what wasn't mine to take? If she chooses him— Ican barely form the thought that I would have to let her go, and that would destroy whatever is left of me.
Carefully, I extract myself from Sara's warmth, watching her shift slightly before she settles back into sleep.
"Liam?” Sara murmurs, her voice cloudy with sleep.
“Just getting water,” I whisper, brushing my fingertips against her cheek. “Go back to sleep, baby.”
She nods, already drifting off again. I grab my sweatpants from the floor, wincing as I pull them on.
I get to the living room, hissing through a few steps until I feel accustomed to the pain as I make my way toward the kitchen for water, but pause when I see Joe’s bedroom door open and no sign of him. Instead, there's a soft glow coming from the office, so I make my way there, softly knocking at the half-open door, and Joe looks up from the computer.
“You’re up.” It’s between a question, an assessment and a judgement that I shouldn’t be walking around despite his surprise and relief.
He came to my room with sandwiches, water and would check on me. The first few times, I wanted to put my fist through his face. Break him like he broke me. My rage against him could not be diluted, my heartbreak unbendable, but as the days went by, something shifted in my chest, I felt the pain morphing into a softer reality, one in which he was alive and I didn't take him for granted.
