Page 52 of Fractured Future

“I still see little Em Lawson beneath those scars.”

“You’re not my brother.”

Warner pauses, his eyes darting around like he’s searching for the right words. “Tom will see that too. Give him a chance before letting your fear win.”

“Shit. Did you gain another fifty IQ points while I was gone?”

He laughs at my crappy joke. “I know my best friend. He loves the bones of you, and nothing will ever change that.”

“Okay.” I heave in a final breath for courage. “Let’s do this.”

“After you.”

Lips pressed together, I step out into the drizzly London air. The fresh, chilled breeze feels like heaven pouring into my nostrils after dealing with nonstop heat and humidity for so long.

Hyland and Axel are already heading towards three blacked-out SUVs parked next to the runway, still trading barbs. A tall, pale man running past them quickly captures my attention.

His long strides seem to be fuelled by sheer urgency, an invisible voice screaming at him to close the physical distance between us. My chest is unbearably heavy with the same frantic desire.

“Ember!”

Tom’s voice cuts through my startled daze.

“Em!”

His yells cause the searing sensation in the back of my eyes to surge forward, forcing moisture to spill onto my cheeks in dribbling rivulets.

“Em!” he repeats in a rush.

Time freezes.

My heart pounds.

Head spins.

Limbs twitch and tense.

At the feel of Warner nudging my lower back, I break free long enough to launch myself down the metal steps. My breaths come in short pants, making my heart throb harder.

“Tom!” I shout back.

The agonising moments between half-running, half-limping towards my brother and being wrapped up in his arms stretch infinitely. Each second is elongated by grief-tinged catharsis.

Then I’m trapped against his tall frame. Wrapped up in peppermint-scented warmth that’s so familiar, it intensifies my cries. I’m convinced I’ll startle awake, and he won’t even be real.

“Oh my God.” He crushes me to his body, nose pushing into my hair. “You’re here.”

“T-Tom,” I wheeze.

“Yeah, trouble. It’s me.”

Wrestling the back of his polo, I twist the expensive cotton. Too many words to count flash over my tongue without materialising. All I can think about are the nights I spent begging the silent darkness for this moment right here.

Through every last match and the endless beatings, the times I wanted a killer blow to end it all so I could finally be free… I thought of him. My big brother. My family. Home. He kept me alive.

“Oh, Em. It’s okay.”

The sob building in my chest feels like it’s going to rip me in half. “You’re here.”