Page 59 of Fractured Future

“I just need time. That’s all.” My voice wavers. “Coming home… hearing how everything has changed… it’s been a lot.”

“I’m trying to give you time, Em.”

“I know.”

“I really am. But when you barely eat, won’t speak and seem unable to even look at me… it kills me inside.”

“I’m sorry,” I offer half-heartedly.

“Don’t even.” Tom jerks his head in dismissal. “None of this is your fault. I just want to help, that’s all.”

The anguish in my chest detonates, reforming into a new shape each time I try to wrestle it into subjugation. Choking grief is preventing me from saying a single thing to comfort him.

“I hate what they’ve done to you.” He runs a hand over his hair, slicked back in its typical perfection. “And I don’t know how to help.”

Shit.

Sighing tiredly, I wrap my shaking arms around his midsection. The scent of peppermint and rich, ink-stained paper filters into my senses, soothing the torrent trying to rip me apart.

I want to scream at myself…This is Tom. The overprotective perfectionist with a brain bigger than most family homes and a heart that rivals it in size. I can trust him. He deserves the truth.

“You help just by being you,” I whisper into his shirt. “Be patient with me.”

“Always.”

“I’ll try to open up more.”

He hugs me back, pushing warmth into my bones. “I need you to tell me if it gets too much today, and we’ll end the interview. No questions asked.”

“I will.”

Clasping my arms, his neck tilts so he can look into my eyes. “Promise me.”

Weakly, I smile at him. “What are we, five-years-old?”

Tom doesn’t crack a smile, his green gaze gleaming. My brother, the formidable legal ninja who breaks multimillion-pound cases wide open before he’s had his morning brew, looks afraid.

“Promise me, Em.”

That harrowing look is enough to shatter every last defence I’ve been hiding behind. I never want to be the reason he wears that expression. I’ll just have to find a way to pretend. And pretendwell.

“Promise.” I nod once.

“Good.” A breath whistles from his nose. “Let’s get this done. Then we’re coming home and ordering the biggest pile of Italian food you’ve seen in your life.”

“Thought you were on a bachelor’s diet?”

He picks up his laptop bag then checks his pockets to make sure he has his wallet and phone. “That ended the moment I got Jamie to commit. I was sick of intermittent fasting.”

“Wait… You and Jamie?” My eyes widen in surprise.

Tom shoots me a smile. “He still lives at his place for now, but yeah. We’ve been exclusive for about three years now.”

“Holy shit!”

My brother’s on-again, off-again boyfriend—or rather his convenient hook-up, if you’d prefer the truth—has been on the scene ever since Tom moved to London. But they hadn’t done labels before.

“Alright, calm down.” A flush stains his pale skin. “It’s not like we’re getting married or anything.”