"My intentions would be simple," he says with a deep, heated gaze, his warm breath fanning across my face.
He slowly moves himself even closer to me so that our bodies are mere millimeters away from touching, causing breathing to become a chore. "M...
Part 2/2 for this update - go back and read chapter 23 if you haven't yet!
"Fallon," a distance voice stirs me from blackness.
"Fallon," Haven's voice says again, this time a lot more clearly.
I slowly open my eyes to the sight of my brother smiling down at me.
"How much do you love me?" He asks from the side of my bed, looking adorably young with his lopsided smile.
"Um, a lot, obviously," I rub my eyes and mumble, my voice still encased in sleep. "Why?" My limbs are stiffer than usual as I stretch them out, wondering if I moved at all last night.
He bounds out of my line of sight for a moment and returns seconds later with a breakfast tray that's piled with extremely mouth-watering confections, and a steaming mug of coffee.
I smile, feeling gratitude rise in my chest at the kind gesture.
Haven spent his evening last night cleaning up the house after mom had some sort of freak out and started squirting mustard on everything, saying the yellow would make her happy again. She had then proceeded to take a hammer to several of the walls.
Jayce had dropped me off right as Haven had finished cleaning up. I was able to recount my hellish evening to him, shuddering as I recalled Alexei's bitter anger. Haven had looked like he was ready to drive to Jayce's house and pummel him and Alexei until they couldn't remember their last name.
I had immediately calmed Haven down and distracted him with the stories of Presley and me discovering the missing footage, and Jayce using his man powers to get the truth out of Shay. Between that and bringing up Jayce literally punching his own father in the face for calling me names, Haven seemed satisfied with not beating the shit out of him.
Haven left me to have my breakfast alone, despite my attempts to get him to stay and eat with me. Apparently he has something "very important to do with a red-head" today, but wanted to spoil me a bit after the evening I'd had.
I feel like I should be spoiling him after the evening he had, but I'll have to save it for another time. Besides, I'm sure he'll be getting spoiled enough with this little ginger friend of his.
I don't like thinking about the fact that my brother is spending his day getting laid, especially because it makes me wish that it was happening to me.
Which it isn't.
And hasn't for nearly three months.
Ugh.
I distract myself by gorging my body with the pile of store-bought croissants, icing-doused cinnamon rolls and mini blueberry muffins, following it up with gulps of the strong, black coffee.
Once I have a sufficient caffeine and sugar rush, I climb out of the warm, safe, comforting oasis that is my bed and meander into my bathroom, already anticipating feeling hot water and steam on my skin.
I do my best to clear my head as the water washes over me.
Maybe I should spend the day pampering the fuck out of myself.
Take a bath, get a new book from the library and paint my toes or some shit. Self care, bro.
When my fingers and toes look like raisins, I resentfully step out of the shower and dress in a comfy pair of yoga pants, a long-sleeve cranberry top and some black and white sneakers.
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