8. Fletcher

Yeah, that did not go as planned. Not even close. Jesus fuck, what the hell was that? Why does the universe seem to hate me?

I swear, when I saw my favorite professor through the window of the coffee shop as I was jogging by, I was thanking that universe. But now, as I'm running out of the shop, I realize it was just a cruel trick.

I'm embarrassed and unstable as I run back to my apartment, but instead of going inside, I climb in my Jeep and behind the wheel. I turn up the music and head for the highway, trying to clear out my head.

I don't want to think about what happened. I hate that he witnessed it. It was a kid throwing a tantrum and a parent getting angry. It happens every single day. I'm sure that kid was just fine.

But I can't seem to make my mind believe that, and my heart is racing as I drive, turning the music up a little louder. My phone beeps with a notification, and I glance at it to see it's a text from Bree.

She's in town.

I take a deep breath and turn off the highway, going toward one of my favorite spots. When I reach the lake, I park my Jeep, grab my phone, and hop out, finding a large rock to sit on as I look out at the water.

I text Bree and ask her to meet me here. She's been here a couple of times with me. It's a spot I found my first week of college when the jumble of so many normal kids in one place was too damn much for my brain.

I wound up on a drive after my first class where I found this place, and when Bree visited me a few weekends later, I brought her out here to show her. She shows up about an hour later, just her, even though I'm sure she's in town to stay with Shana. She must have sensed I didn't want to be around anyone else.

She joins me on the same rock I'm sitting on, leaning her head on my shoulder. "What's wrong, Fletch?"

I shrug, lifting her head a little bit as I move the shoulder she's resting on. "I just needed to go for a drive."

"Right," she says, not believing that for a second. "What happened?" I like that she doesn't waste any time. She gets to the point and doesn't put up with my bullshit. She's one of the few who won't.

I look out at the beautiful water, hoping it will calm me. Maybe I should have chosen the library instead. The drive didn't help, and the water doesn't seem to either this time. "I was totally fine, Bree." I shake my head sadly. "I was flirting with this hot professor who hates me?—"

"Okay, we're for sure coming back to that part later," she interrupts with a laugh.

I smile, figuring she wouldn't let that part go, but my mood is still darkened by what happened. "I heard this kid throwing a fit. You know, totally normal tantrum to get what they wanted."

I feel her nod against my shoulder as she listens.

"But then the dad yelled at the kid. His deep voice—he sounded so damn angry. So mad." I feel her stiffen, but she doesn't say anything. "I just froze. Completely. My heart was racing, and it was like I couldn't breathe. It was just a dad angry at his kid for throwing a fit in public, but I..."

My heart rate starts to speed up again, and I curse myself for not being able to control it.

"Fletch..." she says as she pulls back from my shoulder, and I turn to look at her as she turns her body to face me. I can feel her concern.

"Don't. I'm fine." I try to quickly shut her down.

But Bree doesn't back down from anything. "Are you?" she asks so simply, but there's nothing simple about her question.

"Bree..." I groan, but again, she doesn't budge.

She's brave. Always has been. Lifting her chin and looking me right in the eyes. "We all had trauma. We were all in horrible places, off and on, but..." Her chin wobbles slightly, and her voice cracks. "I know no one ever actually put their hands on me."

"Bree..." I plead, my eyes closing because I don't want to talk about this. I never want to talk about this.

"But I still hear it. I can still feel like what it was like before," she whispers.

I open my eyes and let out a deep breath, noticing that her eyes are watery as she stares at me. I know she does. I know we all do. Our lives have been so damn good since we went to live with Rhys and Blair. So damn... effortless.

That sometimes we can fool ourselves into forgetting what it was like before we met them. Of being bounced around from home to home. When some really weren't that bad, but they still weren't a real home for us. When some were godawful.

And no, thankfully, as far as I know with Bree, no one touched her. Or Rhett. I wasn't so lucky. The last foster home I was in was a goddamn nightmare. It was what really forced Rhys and Blair into taking Rhett and me on.

I'll never forget them showing up in their fancy car in the crappiest neighborhood. I was just sitting on the porch with a black eye, hating life. Wanting to run away. My foster father still screaming at me as he walked around inside, tossing shit on a drunken rampage.

I was his favorite punching bag, but I told myself it wasn't so bad. That his house was pretty close to where Rhett was staying. That Bree was happy and settled with Rhys and Blair already. That I didn't want to shake everything up.

But then there they were. They pulled up and scooped me out of hell.

"I'm okay, Bree."

She reaches up and cups my cheek, similar to the way Professor Barlowe did only hours ago. This touch is different though. It's comforting, but even through the haze of my panic attack when Barlowe touched me, I could feel the heat. The spark of his firm yet gentle, commanding touch.

I lean into Bree for a moment and then take her hand in mine. "I really am okay. I hate when this happens, I do. It's fucking embarrassing."

She shakes her head. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

I wave that off because yeah, I'm embarrassed as hell. "I'm okay. I just needed to..." To what? Push it all away, I guess. Take some time with it? I don't really know.

She squeezes my hand and then lays her head back on my shoulder. "If you need anything... if you need to talk to someone..."

"I'm talking to someone right now," I say with a smile.

I can feel her shaking her head. "You know what I mean."

I do. Blair had us all going to therapy for a while. She wanted to make sure we were okay, and I understood that, though, it didn't do much for me. Bree still goes though, and I'm happy as hell that it seems to work for her. "I do, and I really don't need therapy or pills. I have it under control."

"We all deal with it in our own way," she says, and I hear no judgment in her tone. None whatsoever because she knows.

"If I ever feel like I don't have it under control, I'll get help. I promise."

She nods again. "I know you will."

We're quiet for a while, just staring out at the lake with her lying her head on my shoulder and my arm around her. Some people may question whether the love between us ever crossed a line, since we aren't blood-related, and while Bree is gorgeous, it's never been like that between us.

Not ever. She's always been my little sister from the day we met. And there was a time when she was in love with Rhett. Like actual love. But he didn't feel the same about her. I know that hurt her, but I think she realized it never would have worked between them.

That Rhett was meant for Grayson. And she seems content these days—especially since she finally told us about going to New York. "Blair driving you crazy with planning?"

She laughs. "Not really. She's so damn excited, Fletch."

I grin. "She loves you."

"She loves us all," she says simply, and yeah, she really does. There's no denying that.

I think that's another way I chase away the bad memories. She's placed so many good ones over the bad.

"So, this hot professor?" Bree prompts, and I bark out a quick laugh because, oh yeah, I kind of let that slip, and of course she isn't going to let that go.

"He hates me, Bree."

"He?" she asks, but there really isn't any surprise there. Or any judgment. Not that I would expect there to be from her.

"Yes, he," I state firmly, happy to finally be talking about this with her too.

"Huh," she says and then leans up to look at my face. "So I don't want to assume because I'm not an asshole, but since I've seen your tongue shoved down more women's throats than I'd like..." She shudders, and I roll my eyes and laugh.

"I'm into both," I answer the question she never really got to. "I'm bisexual."

"Cool," she says effortlessly and lays her head back down on my shoulder.

"Yeah, I mean, I think I'm into both genders equally. I haven't really figured out my exact Kinsey Scale score, but I think I'm pretty firmly in the middle."

She laughs and shakes her head at me. "I'm not at all surprised that you've overanalyzed the hell out of your sexuality."

I chuckle, but yeah, I like research. When I first realized I had an attraction to a guy at school, I went right on the internet and read. And read some more. Not because I thought it was wrong, but I guess because it made it seem even more normal to know that hell, there's even an actual scale out there for sexuality.

Pretty damn cool, if you ask me.

"Speaking of that scale..." I start, and she looks at me, raising an eyebrow as she waits for the question. "You and Shana?"

She grins at that but doesn't seem surprised. "Nope. We're just friends, for real. I think I may be the only mostly straight one out of the bunch. But if I fall for a girl, I won't fight it, that's for damn sure."

I grin. "Mostly?"

She shrugs. "Like I said, I won't fight it. If my soulmate happens to be a woman, then that's how it's supposed to be."

"You're pretty fucking cool, Bree."

She laughs. "So are you. Please remember that."

I nod slowly, knowing what she's trying to tell me.

That no matter what I went through before, I'm really okay now.

And I'm trying everything I can to make sure I believe that.