Letting My Brother's Best Friend Take My V-Card

My Husband 387

GUILT JOSH

The hallway outside her room felt too long. Too bright. Too goddamn sterile. My footsteps barely made a sound against the polished floors, but inside my head, everything was roaring. Laura was alive.

The words kept looping over and over, but my body hadn't caught up yet. It felt like if I let myself believe it too much, the universe would take it away again.

A doctor had tried to stop me at the nurses' station, spitting out words like stable condition and still on a ventilator, but none of it registered. I'd shoved past them, past the concerned voices, past the fucking security guard who grabbed at my arm. Nothing was going to stop

me.

And then I saw her.

The doors burst open, loud voices calling after me, but none of it mattered.

My heart stopped.

Laura.

Her pale, thin frame was bundled into a wheelchair, her body swallowed up by hospital-issued clothes that hung from her like she was nothing but skin and bone. Her hair was limp, her cheeks hollowed, and her skin too pale under the harsh 0.00%

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fluorescent lights.

But she was looking at me.

Those eyes-those beautiful fucking eyes-were staring right at me, and I swore I felt something crack wide open in my chest.

Laura was alive.

wasn't the same. She was still the most beautiful thing I had ever

him a glance. My feet

floor hard, but I barely felt it. My hands found hers, wrapping around them like if I let

so

them, kissed her wrists, her knuckles, anything

needed to. I needed

"Laura," I choked out.

and then her hand trembled as she reached for something at her side. The nurse beside her passed

III

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Hi, babe.

Something between a laugh

but it was useless. I was smiling even as my vision blurred, even

guilt was busy filling up my ribs, crawling

all at once, spilling from my mouth like I had no control over

so fucking sorry," I whispered, my voice raw, broken. "I-I fucked up, Laura. I gave up on you. I almost signed-I almost signed,

hitched, my hands

shook my head, squeezing my

unable to stop the words. "I should've held

onto her

but her fingers-her beautiful, delicate fingers-moved through my hair, soft and slow, like she wasn't angry. Like she wasn't

been begging for forgiveness, for a chance to

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GUILT

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