Chapter 20

TWENTY

AELLA

A s I turn to Miles, the others slink away. I look toward the fire pit, where Sully set boxes and branches ablaze. He'd known after Braxton had taken off it would be necessary.

There's a stinging in my chest that I'm trying to ignore because he and I aren't doing anything, right? Like, sure, I wear their brand. But it means I'm a part of the club, not with them only.

He opens his mouth to explain.

I lift my hand. "It's fine. We're not really… I mean, I thought we were… You're free to be who you are, of course."

His smile is warm and welcome. "Aella, no. It's not what you think."

He's mirroring words I only just said to him. However, I was tied to a spanking bench.

The idea of him nude and strapped down isn't out of the question, but I shake free from the thought.

"But I mean, you have a girlfriend," I squeak, and I hate how much emotion there is in my tone. It makes me feel even more vulnerable than the moment I watched Charlotte riding Carter's dick.

I know it's because I care about Miles more than I ever could have cared for Carter.

"I do not have a girlfriend. Braxton has a wicked tongue when angry; he knew it would bother you. He'll regret it later; you mark my words."

I sigh, letting go of a breath I'd held until he confessed.

"I fucked her, yes, but it was before you and I were a thing. I consider us a thing, Aella. The three of us, we're something. Neither Braxton nor I would ever go behind your back. Loyalty means too much to us. Just as you're all ours, we're yours."

Tension unwinds inside me. "What are we going to do about the Jackals?"

He tugs me into him, wrapping his arms around me. I close my eyes and melt into him. Part of me wonders if I'm being that girl. The one who gives in to her man too quickly after a fight. The rest of me doesn't care if I am. He feels like home just as much as Braxton does.

They're becoming my center.

" We won't do a thing. I will," he says, and the statement rumbles through my ear as one presses against his hard chest.

The scent of leather lingers on both brothers, but he always has a tinge of fresh laundry and cedar mixed within it. It wafts up my nose as I breathe him in.

"I'm going to go check on Brax," I tell him.

He grabs my hand as I push away, spinning me back towards him. "Be careful, and text me if he's bad, okay? That bike is something he built with his own hands, a fixation of his for years. He won't take it easy. On second thought, stay up here for a while. Let him have a bit."

I shake my head. "No. I'm going to see him. He needs me."

He narrows his eyes at me. "Text me and let me know how he is, okay? Seeing me will only worsen it for him, but I'll help you if he needs it."

I nod, not fully understanding his words until I reach the basement.

I stand at the bottom of the stairs, shocked.

Beneath the glow of red lights, Braxton is in the middle of the floor. He's got a blanket surrounding him, even covering his head. The speakers blast white noise around the room, and he's rocking back and forth.

I take a moment to read the space. To think of what to do next.

I might have sent him further over the edge by touching him when he was already feeling too overwhelmed.

I pull my phone out and click it into silent mode.

He's not good. He's on the floor, rocking back and forth.

Blanket? White noise?

Yes.

Fuck, I hate when I'm right. Need me to come down?

No. That'll make it worse. Tell me what to do.

Hug him tightly from behind. He's going to make noises if he's distraught, but don't let them deter you from holding on as tightly as you can.

Okay…

Keep me posted.

Stuffing my phone into my pocket, I silently move behind him, getting on my knees and preparing to do whatever I can to help. I know he's different, and seeing him like this doesn't scare me or make me think less of him. If anything, I understand him more. It makes me want to protect his peace at all costs.

I slowly wrap my arms around him from behind, clasping my hands in front of his chest as tightly as I can. He's massive, and the blanket doesn't make him any more minor, but I manage. The rocking seems slow, but he sounds like he's crying. Strangled sobs come from him, and I rest my head on his back as I tighten my arms as much as I can manage. My arms shake, and I don't know if I'm even helping.

For a while, we sit together. His rocking and the sounds cease, but he still hasn't spoken. The white noise cleared my head the longer I sat with him, so much so that my arms and body grew lax as I melted into Brax.

When I finally can't take the pain in my knees and my feet being asleep any longer, I stand and shake my body out. Blood circulates again, causing tingles in my feet. Brax opens the front of his blanket and looks up at me, saying nothing.

I drop into his lap, letting my legs stretch out behind him, and he closes the surrounding blanket around us. I put my head under his chin, and he drops it against my hair. We still don't speak, but I feel useful. Like I've helped him. He's in much better shape than he was when I came in.

I snake my arms behind his back and hug him tighter than I could on the outside of his blanket.

"You're so much like her," he finally says, and while we've been in our little cocoon, I'm unsure of how long we've been here.

I know he means his mom, so I saved the question.

"Tell me about her," I say, knowing that his talking might take his mind off everything else. It's what I try to do when I feel anxious enough that my breathing feels labored. It helps me to focus on something else, to tug my brain away from the dark place it likes to wander sometimes.

"She was beautiful. She had dark hair like you and warm brown eyes. I always remember thinking it was because she was so warm. Of course, now I know that's a child's way of thinking, but she was the kindest person I ever knew. She took me in like I was her own. She never once thought I was as strange as my real dad did. Never once did she lose her temper with me. She said I was made as God intended. Even when I said I didn't know if I believed a God existed, she said I may see the world through my own eyes and beliefs. She was a beautiful soul. "

Was.

I hate that they have no closure to her disappearance, and it just solidifies my decision to go into my dad's company and find out what happened to her once and for all.

I don't mention I know he's adopted. He doesn't seem to care that I don't ask further.

I don't want to say the wrong thing.

"Well, it's a high compliment you've paid me, then," I say, sitting straight and looking at him head-on.

"That bike was…"

I silence his words when I feel him rocking again. I shake my head. "We will fix it."

He stops, pinning me with his gorgeous eyes. "You know about bikes?"

I burst into laughter, and the Brax I know surfaces, and he rolls his eyes. "No. But I can learn. I'll hand you tools."

He smirks. "Do you know about tools?"

I hold back another laugh as I fight a smile. "No."

"Well, you're going to be in the way." He closes his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Sometimes, I can't filter things before they just come out. I try. But after having a spell, it's hard."

I cup his face. "Hey, Braxton, you don't have to mince words with me. You don't have to mince them with anyone. You be who you are. Fuck everyone else and what they think. If they can't handle you, they're not meant to be in your fucking life."

He smiles. "Two f-bombs. She means business tonight. "

I laugh again, this time unabashed. "You're fucking right. I do! No one fucks with you and gets away with it."

His hands scoop behind my ass and mold to the flesh through my leggings. "Is that so? It's kind of hot, you know? Thinking of you defending me."

"I've got a vicious bite." I snap my teeth together, the sound barely audible over the white noise.

He laughs, and it's from the belly. "I bet you do, Bambi."

I let my head rest under his chin and close my eyes, taking more of the moment before it's over. Even though I'm glad it is over, he and I have bonded deeper through whatever happened.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

I pull back up to eye him. "Me?"

He nods, reaching up and tucking the hair behind my ear. "Few people have seen me like that. It had to be scary for you."

I'm still taken aback. He's worried about me.

"I'm fine. I don't judge you for whatever it was, either. People have different ways of processing the world, I think. Sometimes, I get these panic attacks where I can't breathe, and my dad used to tell my nanny I was making them up that they were for attention. When all I wished was that he understood they weren't something I'd wish on my worst enemy."

He nods in understanding. "It's like that for me. Though, I don't have a name for anything that happened to me. I'm just…different."

I clear my throat, letting the following words roll around a few times before I speak them. I told Braxton to be honest, and I will be the same with him. "Do you want to?"

He quirks a brow in question.

"Do you want to have a name for what is different about you? A doctor could probably diagnose you. You wouldn't have to be alone. I could go with you or Miles…"

His eyes take me in, and I can almost see the wheels of his mind turning. "You'd do that? I mean, what would it matter now? I've lived my life this way for all these years."

I shrug as nonchalantly as I can. "It wouldn't matter, but you'd have an answer. It might help you understand yourself better."

He seems to inspect the plains of my face for a moment as he thinks. "I would like to. Mom said it didn't matter to her or the family, but I think it matters to me. I want to know."

I nod. "Well, let's figure it out then, yeah?"

"We have a lot going on right now, and…"

I cover his mouth with my finger. "It'll take time to get into a doctor anyhow, Brax. We will get the ball in motion while everything else gets handled. Don't make it a point of stress, or it'll become one."

He nods as he leans forward and lets his lips skim mine before fully diving in.

I groan, winding my body around him as tightly as I can.

"Can we turn the white noise off? It's making me sleepy," I say when we finally come up for air .

He chuckles but nods.

Neither of us moves to get up. We stayed in our little bubble a while longer, ensuring both of us were alright before leaving it.

It's just him and me, the world turning around us as we decompress together from what's outside these walls.

"I'm going to miss you," I tell him.

I'm unsure if he's heard me until he says, "I'm going to miss you, Bambi."