Page 106 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

“I like sitting in the silence with you,” she says, voice almost inaudible, after whole minutes have ticked by with nothing but the sound of our breathing.

My fingertips dip to the first knuckle into the water to check the temperature, and I think I see her leg move almost imperceptibly closer under the bubbles. “I guess I don't really give you much choice most of the time.”

That gets a small huff of laughter out of her. “No. But it's never bothered me. That is...” She trails off.

I give her time to continue, but when she doesn't, I gently prompt. “Tell me.”

“It never bothered me, except for the one time I really needed you to have said something. And you didn't.”

The knife that's lodged permanently between my fourth and fifth ribs pushes in deeper and twists.

I try to think of something to say, anything to make it better, but there's nothing. So I say the only thing there is to express in this moment. “I'm sorry, Alexi. I made a mistake.”

Her eyes open, find mine, and there's something cautious in their depths, something I wish I could wash away. “Are you? Sorry?”

“You doubt it?”

“I don't know. You don't make mistakes.” She shrugs, one glistening shoulder rising out of the water and back down. “I've never known you do anything without thinking it through first. Every angle. Every consequence. So you must've known what the result would be of what you did.”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was the most reckless thing I've ever done?”

“The leaving.” She watches me carefully for the answer. “Or the coming to me in the first place.”

“Everything I've done, when it comes to you.” My fingers dip further, grazing the very peak of her knee. “I can't do anything around you with my usual caution. You wreak havoc with my mind, with my whole life.”

She doesn't say anything to that, just holds my eyes for a long moment before trying to reach the face cloth I left on the other edge of the tub. She attempts to hide a grimace before laying back, giving up with a small exhale.

“I've got you.” I pick up the cloth and shuffle so I'm behind her on the edge of the tub, dabbing it over her cheeks, her forehead, working carefully round the graze at her hairline. She goes very still and lets me, eyes following me the whole time.

“You might be right about things living in your hair,” I say.

Her hand comes up and she flicks me with a sprinkling of water, but then hisses in obvious pain. The sound empties me of any joviality.

“What hurts?”

“It's nothing.” She catches the way I'm looking at her and rolls her eyes. “I underestimated how much I hurt my wrist when I fell. I'm not sure I can wash my hair.”

“Let me.” I grab a mug from the sink and kneel behind her, scooping water from the tub and pouring it gently over her head. Then, I push my sleeves up to my elbows and gently work the shampoo slowly through her long wavy hair. She's quiet under the touch of my fingers, eyes shut. Every so often I ask if she's all right and she murmurs something that sounds like “yes, that feels so good”, and I keep going.

When I'm done she leans back against the edge of the tub, hair slicked flat, the bubbles gone thin enough now that I know I'll be able to make out the shape of her under the water if I let myself look.

“Do you think I'm much different?” she asks, eyes still closed. “Compared to back then.”

“Not in any of the ways that matter.”

“Mouthy?” She chuckles.

“That.” I trace a finger down the line of her neck, brushing a wayward bubble off her skin, and she shivers. “But also fiercely opinionated, tender when you least expect it, hard when you expect softness, the little dappled sunlight in a dark and lonely woods.”

A little smile ghosts her lips. “I like that you see me that way. Saw me that way.”

“No other way to see you.”

She sighs and I can't help but wonder what she makes of my words. “I sound delightful.”

“You're also infuriating beyond belief, have an awful singing voice, can’t change lanes without causing near accidents, and judgemental to a fault.”

Her eyes look up at me, wide, surprised, but not offended.