Tobias: Book One of the Cantrell Brothers Series

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dwelling in the Sahara desert belonging to her own mind, Jane lay there in the small bed, unable to fall asleep even after taking her meds. Throat parched and neck becoming entirely too warm and clammy from sweat, she fidgeted, missing Tobias's familiar touch. Quietly, she got up out of bed, her cami sticking to her back as she crept towards the thick, wooden door.

Pressing her ear against the rough surface, she listened, silently praying that everyone was asleep. Eerie creaks and groans echoed throughout the house, but other than that, nothing. With slick hands, she turned the brass door knob, trying not to get distracted by its clean, reflective surface. The floor boards creaked a little every now and then as she walked down the wide hallway, trying her hardest to step cautiously around the few items scattered on the floor.

Parched and dying for a drink of water, she made her way into the kitchen, comforted by the quiet drone of the dishwasher as it worked its mechanical magic. She searched the cupboards, her feet sticking to the wooden floors. Finally, she found the large glasses that had been ignored while they had prepared for their previous dinner.

Jane smiled to herself as she remembered that joy-filled event. Callie and Thrane had been talking nonstop while at the same time, Tina had told her literally everything there was to know about Tobias's childhood. Tobias had licked the electric fence after Thrane had dared him to at the age of seven. At ten, he had wrestled his first young bull. Fourteen, he had gotten a tattoo. Everything she had learned, and everything she had loved to hear about.

But what she would love even more was a drink of water, she reprimanded herself as she quickly turned on the faucet. Much quicker than expected, the clear liquid spat out, using the curve of the glass to hurdle its body onto her black cami, invading the thin material in all directions.

“Damn it,” she cussed, drying herself off before trying again.

Very carefully this time, she tugged the handle up, watching with relief as the faucet's tears collected within the clear glass. She licked her lips with excitement, knowing that her thirst would be quenched soon enough. Raising the glass to her arid lips, she was just about to take a stimulating taste when a sizable hand snaked in front of her and forced her to dump the water into the sink.

“Don't drink that,” a voice gruff with slumber reprimanded her.

Turning around she came face to face with the third youngest brother, Taivon. Short boxed beard glinting from the sheer luminance of the moonlight, hazel eyes laden with tiredness, and a light dusting of chest hair that trailed down to the waistband of dark red pajama pants, he looked extremely intimidating.

“Oh,” she muttered nervously. "Sorry.”

He smiled then, a knowing smile that made her think twice about everything she did. “S'okay, it's not your fault. But, if you don't want to get sick, just drink outta the pitcher,” he walked to the stainless steel refrigerator then, illuminating the kitchen as he opened the metal door.

Softly, he took out an ice cold pitcher, pouring some of its contents into the glass until the clear cup was filled all the way to the brim. “Here." He handed the glass to her, careful as to not spill it.

“Thank you,” she whispered gratefully, taking a long drink.

The room immediately went down at least ten degrees as the last drop was swallowed. Wiping off the sweat from her brow, she breathed a deep sigh of relief, watching as Taivon put the pitcher back and sat down on the swiveling chairs next to the kitchen island.

“Hey, can I ask you somethin'?”

Confused, all she could say was, “Sure,” before sitting down on the opposite end of the island, playing with the smooth wood of the table.