Beyond Bloodline - Unbreakable Bonds

thirty seven

Nigel wasn't the kind of person who got scared of much anything. The only dark cloud in his heart was the traumatic fire he'd found himself trapped in and which he still couldn't recall much of the thereafter to this day. That one misfortune led to developing a critical aversion to fire and heat and every other thing relating to that could cause a trigger. Of course, he found something else that could cause an even darker cloud.

His relationship with his brother.

He remembered being so happy, when they came to pick him up at the orphanage. He had Amelia and he'd had Emery, friends so much more than he knew what to do with, and the only thing he'd ever felt so close to family. Them, the warmth of the caretakers, every other child in that orphanage. They were one big happy family.

But they weren't his real ones and heaven knew how badly he longed for it; longed for them. He'd actually felt like they'd wanted him back, as opposed to how unwanted he'd felt like any other child cast aside to the orphanage. What? He was just a stupid four year old kid. How was he supposed to know what a façade they were putting on.

Saxon had promised, innocently, that he'd waited so long for a brother, hating being an only child and all. Hell would freeze over before he'd ever disdain him for being his family. They were in it for the long-term, he'd said.

Long-term? What a load of bull. Thirteen years didn't even scrape the surface.

Breath shuddering out, he forced the capsule down, capping the bottle of medication and replacing it in the cabinet beside his sink before heading back out at the sound of his ringing cell phone.

"Riele?" she was the last person he expected it to be. It was Monday morning and he should long have been on his way but he couldn't and was still here, stalling for whatever reason.

"Hey," her voice sounded quite dreary. "I just saw your calls. Is everything okay?"

Nigel couldn't help arching a brow, the tightening of his chest receding the slightest bit at the distraction this provided, however little. He needed it, something to bombard his mind with something that was not Saxon. Hating—or near hating— him, avoiding him, he just needed a break from it all. He'd been hyperventilating all weekend.

"Yeah," he managed when he realized he'd been silent for too long. "I've been fine. What happened with you?" His calls to her were quite a while ago already and he'd always known her to return it in less than twenty-four hours no matter how busy she got. Either that or she was constantly bombing him with queries on why he was skimping a session or at the very least, a heart-to-heart.

"Nothing much," she replied. "Just had to make a few trips to the hospital."

"Is everything okay?" the worry and concern he felt was immediate.

"Just. . ." she trailed, as though in search of the right words. She cleared her throat, finally muttering, ". . . just some checkups."

He didn't say anything to that; wasn't really sure what he could that'd fit so just kept silent.

"Everything still okay with you?" she went on to ask of his well-being. As usual. "Your parents?"

"Still the same," he said, even if they weren't. Ever since the night Saxon had bailed him out, things had more or less boiled over with them. It was like a volcano, one they'd only managed to contain its volatility for so long, finally erupted and just combusted. But he didn't know where to start with all that so he'd just rather not. He didn't really want to relive it anyway.

"It's okay," she consoled. "At least you still have your brother."

Nigel would rather she'd not have touched the topic. The tightness in his chest was back and he tried, hard, to draw air up from his lungs but quickly fell short, fighting against the tremors in his hand and the nausea curling deep in his gut.