"Aiden..." I shake my head, eyes fixed anywhere but the gorgeous man next to me.
His hand grips my chin tightly, just enough to make me avert my eyes to his.
"You know you want this as much as I fucking do. I want you to be mine. I want to be the...
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My eyes snap open on their own accord. I sit up against my headboard and place a hand over my chest, as I desperately try to calm my racing heart. I furiously look around the pitch black room for any kinds of danger but find none.
The sound of my door, practically being ripped open, makes me shift my gaze to it. Zach, my little brother by one year, stands by the doorframe, a concerned look on his face.
"Are you okay, Aves?" His voice sounds sleepy. His appearance telling me just that, dark, tousled hair and dropy eyes.
Guilt washes over me and I look down. The white sheet on my matresssunddenly becoming the most interesting to look at. Is that a rose next to the butterfly?
"I'm sorry I woke you up." I barely whisper. I wipe my cheek as the salty taste of a tear lands on my bottom lip.
Shaking his head, he keeps the door open, letting the dim light of the hallway shine into the room. Zach walks further into my room, taking a seat at the edge of my bed, leaving the mattress sink under his weight and opens his arms wide, inviting me in for one of his hugs.
He wraps me up in his arms and I rest my head against his hard shoulder, desperately trying to swallow the golf ball sized lump in my throat. I breath in his familiar scent, calming down a little. At least I know he's still here.
"Was it one of the nightmares?" He asks hesitantly, after a while of complete silence. I nod against him, unable to form a word. It'll either be no sound coming out of my mouth at all or a sound that resembles a dying wale trying to speak.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I shake my head.
There's nothing new to say. He and all my brothers know what the nightmares are about. They might not be the same all the time but they are about the same event; the night mom got murdered. Even six years later, I still get them, maybe not as regularly, thanks to my therapist, but she said it was normal.
I would never be able to get rid of them completely, no matter how much I want to, but you can't get everything you heart desires, can you? At least I got to stopy therapy sessions. She said I made progress and that my mental state got steady. I call bullcrap. Sometimes.
"Sleep with me?" I sleepily ask once I've calmed down and he nods before pulling away.
I lay in the middle of my king sized bed. Zach grabs the covers-I just now notice are laying on the floor-and motions for me to scoot over. Once I do, he grabs the fluffiest pillow-which happens to be the one I'm having my head on-earning a scowl from me and makes himself comfortable.
With my pillow.
Soon enough, his soft snores fill the room. I sigh and shakily turn my back to him, trying to get some sleep myself.
