Evangeline
Time seems to pass indefinitely. Eventually, Daniel ceases his mournful weeping. I still keep my arms wrapped tight around him. It is the only comfort I can provide for him, and the solace I seek myself.
I'm still reeling, each heartbeat in the silence of the room slowed, reverberating.
Daniel loved Lana.
And not as a sister.
I'm not a religious person, but seriously. Is this a miracle?
I'm not alone.
I snap out of my daze as a crushing weight presses me down onto the bed. My face flames as Daniel's limp body presses flush against me. With a grunt of effort, I shove at his chest, wriggling out from under him and then panting for breath, facedown on my stepbrother's bedsheets.
Ugh. Daniel's so heavy.
Of its own accord, my hand reaches out, brushing against the corner of his lips.
And his chest was rock hard.
I snatch my hands back and smack my them over my face abruptly, dissipating the thought. My cheeks sting, breaking me out of the haze of want. I'm already in love with my stepbrothers. No need to start letting attraction to another guy grow.
I mean, I've always thought Daniel was a pretty cute guy, but I was always preoccupied with my brothers. But it's like the incidents tonight ignited something in me.
Luke.
Max.
Chris.
Asher.
God, I'm fucking selfish.
I roll off the bed and busy myself with ensuring Daniel's wounds are all good, then I start clearing the used cotton pads and gauze. I gather up the first aid kit, ready to leave. I'm tired. And hungry. And I want dinner.
One more obstacle to my warm meal, though. Or maybe not an obstacle. More like a very welcome sidetrack.
My eldest stepbrother pushes open the door. He grabs me by the shoulders in a rather dramatic fashion. "Are you hurt?"
I'd didn't even hear him knock.
My eldest stepbrother's handsome face is drawn, his mesmerising green eyes searching mine. I can hear his heart hammering.
He's worried.
If I look closely enough, I can see the gradient hues of green shimmering in them. My breath hitches. The way he's holding me now resurfaces the memory of our kiss. I don't miss the way his eyes drop to my lips.
Does he remember?
He takes my hands in his, turning them over slowly, brushing his finger pads across my knuckles lightly. Our skin barely has any contact. I'm not kissing him full on, like I was with Asher, yet this feels just as intimate.
I could, should pull my hands away. But I don't.
I peer up at him through my lashes. "You remember. You know. Don't you?"
His eyes widen. He knows exactly what I'm talking about. A flush forms on his cheekbones, spreading to his neck at a rapid pace.
"What—"
I lean in close, pent-up frustration bubbling at my lips. "Why?" I whisper. Lucas casts his gaze down. "Look at me. Let me see those pretty eyes."
I tilt his chin up, tears welling. "You said you'd wait?"
He nods numbly, Adam's apple bobbing. "Always."
