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."

look at him. His eyes were distant, his

me after that," he continued. "She was... strict, but she loved me. And she loved my cousin. We

faintly. "What

memory. "He was the reckless one. Always

the bed.

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

touch and closed his eyes. "It's okay. I've made peace with it.

I could feel the tension in his muscles as

head up to meet his gaze, and his eyes softened as 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 murmured almost reverently. "You don't have

swallowed hard. "Neither do

and teased his lips just above mine, giving me the chance to pull away. But I didn't. I closed the distance and brushed my lips against his

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

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

touch was steady, as though he was trying to convey with

his fingers brushed the hem 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 exposed skin as if to show me he wasn't just taking

hands found mine and entwined our fingers, grounding me. "Angel," he said softly, then he looked up at me with an expression so sincere it stole my breath. "Let me take care

shorts, he paused and used his fingers to toy with the fabric as 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 cold AC graze my heated skin. His strong hands settled on

and I gasped. My hands gripped the sheets as he explored me with a careful intensity. His mouth was warm, and his 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

higher until I shattered and a soft cry escaped my

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

steady as I shifted to feel the heat of him against me. The sensation

The sensation was overwhelming; it was painful and pleasurable as he filled me completely. His grip on my hips tightened as he buried

began to move, slowly at first, rocking my hips against his as we found our rhythm. His lips found mine again in a deep and unrestrained kiss, and his hands were roaming over my

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

thoughts that creeped in-the comparisons. It was wrong, I knew it was, but the memories of 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 was an unspoken vow that he was here for me

and my forehead 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,

my head against his shoulder and brushed my lips against his neck as I whispered, "You take care of me... in ways I didn't know I needed." My voice cracked slightly, and I felt his hands pause for a moment. His fingers pressed into my back like he was trying to hold me together. "Thank you

mine again, silencing my words with a kiss that felt like reassurance and a promise. I moved with him. Our bodies found a rhythm that spoke to something deeper, and for a moment, I let myself forget everything but this the way 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

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,

his eyes soft and filled with something I didn't know if I deserve, made my chest tighten. "Maybe I should have... maybe it's always been you." My voice trailed off; uncertainty was surely creeping in. I didn't know if I was saying it for him or for

it? Why, even now, when he was everything 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

pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and slid my hands down to his shoulders as I rested against him, trying to quiet the storm in my mind. Maybe he was the right one for me. Maybe, with time, that but will disappear. But as his arms tightened around me and