Page 48 of Unbroken

"Oh, Vadka," she says, her voice cracking. "I miss her so much."

And then she’s sobbing.

And fuck it all to hell—so am I.

I tug her to me, wrap my arms around her, bury my face in her hair, and cry along with her. Both of us hold onto eachother like it’s the only way to stay grounded, the only way to keep each other safe. I cry like I haven’t in weeks.

"I miss her too, Ruthie. I do too."

"Feels like a piece of me died right along with her," she says through her tears, her voice wobbly.

"I know exactly what you mean," I whisper, sniffling. Just when I think I’m getting better—that I’m stronger, that I can go on missing her and still be human again—part of me breaks all over again. I look at Luka, and I see Mariah. And I remember she’s not going to watch him get older.

It’s messy and heartbreaking as we both cry, but we need it. Both of us.

And then, after a few minutes, she stills. And so do I. She’s lying in my arms with her head on my shoulder, and it feels so fucking good to have someone to hold again.

A part of me wants to say I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve been stronger for her. But another part of me knows—I can only give her what I have. I can’t pretend to be whole when I’m broken. When I’m aching. When sometimes it feels too hard to breathe.

I reach for the bedside table and find a small square box of tissues and hand her some. She blows her nose. I grab a couple and blow mine.

"Fuck it," I tell her. "I’m sorry—" I start to say, but she puts a hand on my shoulder.

"For loving my sister?" she says. "Don’t you ever fucking apologize for that again."

"No," I say quietly. "I just… I want to stay strong for you. That’s what Mariah would’ve wanted."

She rests her hand on my cheek and holds my gaze with hers. Her voice is strong now. Certain.

"And at what point," she whispers, "have you ever stopped being strong for me?"

"God, Ruthie."

I tug her to my chest and hold her in a hug, one hand on the back of her head, my other arm wrapped around her—because I never wanna let go.Never.

“Oh look, there’s a little fridge in here,” she whispers.

And I finally release her.

“Maybe there’s water?”

She opens it and finds two bottles of water. “Almost as if somebody knew we’d either be crying or drunk or both,” she says and hands me a bottle. I twist off the top and quietly drink the water. Funny how a cold bottle of water actually does help.

“Come on,” I say quietly, patting the bed next to me. “Get in bed. I won’t touch you.”

“What if I want you to?” she says with a giggle. And this time, she doesn’t meet my eyes. “I mean, you don’t have to feel me up or anything, but… might be nice to fall asleep next to each other? And…”

I roll her over and give her ass a good, hard swat. My hand is big, so it covers a lot of real estate. “Behave, woman.”

“My fucking god, your hand is like a paddle!” Her cheeks are flushed as she rolls over.

“I said behave and go to sleep,” I growl.

“Fine,” she says, and I don’t miss the little smile she gives me.

She nestles down beside me, chasing sleep. And right now, sex is the furthest thing from my mind—because my arm is around her, and she’s tucked up against my chest, and I realize just how much I fucking miss this. Holding someone. Protecting them. It fulfills something primal in me.

It doesn’t take long for her breathing to slow.