Darn Stupid Brother You Are by Mairee

Chapter 85

(Angel's POV)

Thomas and I were sprawled on the bed in the vacant examination room. The soft hum of the center's fluorescent lights filled the silence between us. My head rested on his chest, and I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was a calming metronome against the chaos of my thoughts.

"I don't talk about her much," I said suddenly, breaking the silence. "My mom, Dennis. She's... complicated."

Thomas's fingers brushed through my hair. "Complicated how?"

A small laugh escaped me, but it was bitter around the edges. "Strict, controlling, impossible to please. She wasn't always like that, though. I remember when it was just the two of us. Things were simpler back then."

I paused as my mind drifted to memories of a smaller apartment, where the walls were thin, and her voice was loud but comforting. "She changed when Travis came into the picture. Hendrix's dad. They met at some boating event. I think he was still grieving his wife at the time."

Thomas hummed whilst his hand trailed soothing patterns along my arm. "And you met Hendrix then?"

I nodded. "Yeah. He was this loud, obnoxious kid who thought the world revolved around him. I didn't like him at first, but... he grew on me. He always knew how to charm his way out of trouble, even when he was the one causing it." Thomas chuckled. "Sounds like someone I know."

I swatted his chest playfully. "Don't compare me to him."

"I'm not," he said, smiling. "But you both have that spark, that ability to light up a room without even trying."

I didn't respond. The words lingered in the air like a soft melody. My chest tightened as the memories kept coming. Hendrix and I, fighting over the TV remote. Dennis yelling at him to stop breaking curfew. Travis trying to mediate, always with that patient, fatherly smile.

"Sometimes I wonder if things could've been different," I whispered. "If we hadn't ended up here. If Dennis had been less strict or if Travis had... I don't know, done more to hold our family together."

Thomas shifted under me, and his arms tightened around my frame. "Angel, you don't have to talk about it if it's too much."

I shook my head. "No, it's okay. It feels good to talk about it. To let it out."

But the tears were already pooling in my eyes, and I hated it. I hated that those memories still had power over me, that they could unravel me so easily. Thomas didn't say anything else. He just held me; his warmth anchored me to the present. The silence between us stretched, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Words didn't need to be said at the moment as we shared an understanding that didn't need to be voiced.

"What about you?" I softly asked after a while. "What were your parents like?"

Thomas stiffened slightly, and his hand stilled against my arm. For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer, but then he sighed. It was one of those heavy sighs filled with a quiet sadness.

"I didn't know them well," he admitted. "They died when I was a kid. Car accident."

Thomas," I breathed and sat up slightly to look at him. His eyes were distant, his jaw

was... strict, but she loved me. And she loved my cousin. We were like brothers, you

"What was

memory. "He was the reckless one. Always getting into trouble, always dragging

the bed. "He

the burden he carried so quietly. I reached out and cupped his face with trembling

okay. I've made peace with it.

as I leaned into his warmth. I could feel the tension in his muscles as his memories pressed down on him. My fingers brushed over his chest absentmindedly, tracing invisible patterns that helped ground both of us in the present. His scent-clean, masculine, faintly woodsy-filled my senses, and for a moment, the chaos in my mind dulled. It was just us, wrapped

they locked onto mine. There was something unspoken between us, like a question waiting to be asked. His thumb brushed against my cheek as he wiped away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. "Angel," he

hard. "Neither do

me the chance to pull away. But I didn't. I closed the distance and brushed my lips against his in a kiss that was soft. His hands cupped my face, holding me steady as the kiss deepened. His lips remained warm

grounding me. My fingers slipped into his hair, and he groaned softly against my mouth. The kiss grew hungrier, as if we were both

myself forget. I let myself lose track of time, of space, of everything but the way he made me feel-wanted, needed, seen. And as his hands explored the curve of my waist while his lips moved urgently, I couldn't help

of my throat. My breath hitched as his hands gently but firmly guided me back onto the bed so I could rest my head on the pillows. His touch was steady, as though he was trying to convey with every caress that I was safe and cherished. He hovered over me, still staring into my soul with orbs

of my shirt. I felt my cheeks flush as he slowly pulled it over my head. His hands felt sure against my skin. He didn't rush. He took his time, his lips following the path of his hands, kissing every inch of

an expression so sincere it stole my breath. "Let me take care of you." There was no hesitation in his voice, only a sort of confidence,

he met my gaze again, silently asking for permission. I nodded like a starving hyena. My heart was pounding as he slid them down, and I immediately felt the

tongue was skilled as he moved in slow strokes that left me trembling. He wasn't just touching me he was unraveling me, piece by piece, each flick of his tongue pulling me further under his control. "Thomas..." I breathed out his name with a broken voice as my hips bucked instinctively against him. "Stay with me," he murmured against my skin as his grip on my thighs tightened, anchoring me to him. The vibration of his words sent another wave of pleasure rolling through me, and I cried out, letting my head

drove me higher and higher until I shattered and a soft cry escaped my lips as pleasure overwhelmed me, leaving me trembling in

his head, his lips were glistening and his expression was soft, but there was an edge to it, a hunger that hadn't been sated. "Angel," he murmured as he moved up my body and slid his hands under my back to pull me up with him. He sat back on his knees, holding me close as I straddled his lap. My legs wrapped

The sensation was electric and sent a rush of anticipation through me as he pulled me closer to rest

into me. The sensation was overwhelming; it was painful and pleasurable as he filled me completely. His grip on my hips tightened as he buried himself to the hilt. We stayed like that for a moment

our rhythm. His lips found mine again in a deep and unrestrained kiss, and his hands were roaming over my back, holding me to him as if he couldn't

for the first time, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be wrapped in his arms, our bodies moving together, the connection between us undeniable. His hands tightened on my hips as he guided me, and I could feel the tension building again. The pleasure spiraled higher as he whispered my name like

Hendrix still lingered in the corners of my mind. Hendrix had always been fire and chaos, overwhelming in his intensity, leaving me breathless but raw, like I had survived a hurricane. But Thomas... Thomas was different. He was steady, and his touch was like a soothing ice pack. He didn't just take he gave; his every movement

pressed to his as I clung to him, trying to focus on the present, on him. "Thomas," I whispered as my voice trembled with pleasure and emotion. "You make me feel... safe." My raw and unfiltered words came out unexpectedly, and I felt his arms tighten around me in response. He didn't speak, didn't need to. His touch, his gaze, the way he held me so gently while our bodies

in ways I didn't know I needed." My voice cracked slightly, and I felt his hands pause for a

he made me feel, the warmth of his hands, the strength in his arms, the softness in his gaze. I felt the tension building again and the pleasure rising like a tide that I

it was over, he collapsed back against the bed. His chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath. I was still straddling him, my legs wrapped around his waist, but instead of moving, I reached out and framed his face with my hands. He looked up at me. His hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks were flushed, and for a moment, I just stared at him, marveling at the man under me. My thumb brushed over his cheekbone, tracing the line of his jaw, and I felt something stir deep inside me a quiet, persistent thought that maybe I should have seen

My voice trailed off; uncertainty was surely creeping in. I didn't know if I was saying it for him or for myself, trying to convince myself that I had made the right choice. He didn't respond. His

I could ask for when he was kind, patient, loving-did the memory of Hendrix still linger? My heart ached with the contradiction and all the unresolved feelings pulling at me even as I sat there, wrapped in Thomas's

me. Maybe, with time, that but will disappear. But as his arms tightened around me