Bully stepbrother

48. Worthy

Present

CADEN

"If we ever get out of here, will we go to the pharmacy to get your bruises treated?" She discreetly inquired, her voice so soft.

"We will get out of here. It's not like I stayed locked up for years the other night. I only spent the night, and they let me out the next morning."

Her eyes widened. I gave attention to the sharp intake of her breath when she squirmed slightly on my lap and faced me fully.

"You've been locked up? When? How?" She maintained a moderate volume, but I could sense the shock in every single word she spoke.

Yes, that's Mad, my beautiful stepsister with OCD, ADHD and everything in between that you can imagine.

She had curled up on my thighs and held me firmly ever since we got here.

Mad had been obsessive with hygiene since I knew her and had made it prominent how much dirt makes her feel. So this place was very opposite of her. I feel so stupid for dragging her into my shit.

For hours, Mad has sustained a quiet tone in the cell and avoided by any chance looking towards the two men snoring in the space.

She wouldn't sleep even though it must be very late, given the fact that the department had become silent compared to when we arrived, and the numbness and tingling in my legs from sitting for a very long time.

And I don't blame her. I mean someone harassed her some hours ago, but the officers believe it's wise to throw a lady in a boy's cell? Great!

"It's a long story."

A frown etched on her expression while she asked: "Why didn't you tell me?"

I inhaled and exhaled, aiming to brush away the lock of hair covering my sight, but Mad's fingers were quick to caress my hair in a way I didn't want her to stop. Just like yesterday at the park.

I smiled and answered her question: "We weren't talking at the time."

"I was your emergency contact."

Correct, and she still is.

"I called Paxton; he got me out." He was the option at the time.

She chuckled, raking my hair with her fingers. "You two are like what? Sometimes he's bailing you out of jail, and sometimes he's kicking your ass."

I watched her while she spoke each word; she was stunning and very precious. Even though we ended up in jail, I am glad we are here together. I get to hold her, inhale her, and feel her touch.

At least, what we have didn't end.

"I wouldn't say he kicked my ass, but yes, he managed some punches." I tittered, remembering the immature reason and also Paxton's face the next morning.

She smiles small at me and pulls my head to her chest, hugging me closely. My eyes instinctively closed; I bask in the warmth of her arms. She smells so pleasant and incredibly soothing. Mad was my heaven in hell, and she was beginning to notice it.

If prisons felt this promising, I wouldn't mind life imprisonment where I wouldn't face any pains but the warmth of the only human I can't get disconnected from.

"Just see a physician, please." She mumbled from my neck.

She has no idea. "They will get better and disappear themselves."

"You don't always have to be like that." She whispered and trembled against my body.

Confused, I ask: "Like what?" in an equal tone as hers.