Page 118 of Tangled Hearts

“Yeah?”

“Remember the last time you slept with us? And I told you my world was never more right than when you and Roman were with me?”

“Yes,” I whisper, my heart singing.

“That’s been expanded to include Nicolas over there.”

Nic groans. “That’s not my name.” He sounds pleased, though. And it makes me smile.

“Is now,” Beck murmurs, before falling silent.

I’m still worried about Uncle Holden, still worried about how he’s going to feel about me and Nic. The ache is still heavy in my chest, but being curled up and safe with some of my favorite people in the world lessens it just a little.

Roman closes his eyes, rubbing his thumb back and forth over my hand. Nic presses his face against the back of my neck, exhaling softly, and Beck’s breathing evens out. I’m pretty sure he’s falling asleep. He deserves it after the night he had.

My lips curve into a smile, and I close my eyes.

Chapter 37

Nic

My fingers trace down Eli’s spine. He’s still asleep. It’s not really a surprise. Not after the last couple of days. Not after the night we had together when we got home from his dads’ house.

I’m just so thankful to have him back home. Back in my arms where he belongs.

His weight is pressing down on me—the feel of it comforting and solid. Familiar. Perfect. I let my fingers drag slowly over each vertebra, then up his nape to weave through his thick hair. He shivers in his sleep.

I can’t help but smile. I worried for a second that I had lost this. Losthim.I’m not sure what I would have done if I had.

The sound of quiet knocking pulls me from my musing. Eli doesn’t stir and Kassie doesn’t bark, and, for a second, I’m sure I’ve imagined it, but then it happens again. I carefully roll Eli to his back and climb out of bed, slipping on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt just in time for there to be another knock.

Eli’s still peacefully sleeping, so with a final glance at him, I walk out, pulling the bedroom door shut behind me.

When I open the front door, Holden’s standing on the other side, his hand raised like he’s about to knock again. He startles, his eyes snapping to mine. My heart gets caught in my throat at the way he looks. His eyes are swollen, like he’s been crying for days; the marks on his throat are red and irritated, and his normally clear complexion is splotchy. “Hi,” he breathes. “Can I come in?”

I’m afraid that if I talk, I’m going to break down in hysterics, so I step back and wave my hand, gesturing for him to enter.

Holden averts his eyes, stepping over the threshold into the living room. “Can we, um… Can we sit?” he asks, hovering by the couch. “We should—I need to talk to you. I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”

He’ll understand if I don’t want to what? Talk to him? How could he think that? Of course I want to talk to him. “Of course. We can definitely talk.”

He nods, staring blankly at the floor in front of him. After a second, he sits down. I take the cushion beside him, bracing my elbows on my knees and clasping my hands in front of me.

“I owe you an apology,” he starts, and I shake my head, cutting him off. “I do, though. I do. Please, just—just let me get through this, okay? Julian didn’t want me to come yet. My therapist didn’t either, but I had to. Ineededto. So please let me get through it.”

I nod. I want to reach out to him. Hold his shaking hand. Offer him comfort. But I’m not sure if I can. Or if he’d even want it. An image of him begging us not to touch him flashes through my mind, and my throat tightens. “Okay,” I whisper.

He looks at me, his sad green eyes boring into mine. “I want to start by saying I love you.” My eyes widen. “I do, Nic. You’re my babybrother, and I love you. I’m so glad you found me. I realized we hadn’t done that.Ihadn’t done that—hadn’t told you that. But I do.”

“I love you too,” I choke out, my throat aching.

“I didn’t want you to know,” he whispers, looking away again. “Not because I don’t love you or because I don’t trust you. Not even because I don’t think you could handle it. I just—” His voice cuts off with a hiccuping sob, and then he drags in a shaky breath, exhaling it slowly. He does it two more times before he seems to be in control of his emotions again.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, holding one of my hands out. He stares at it for a second, then he slides his fingers through mine and squeezes.

“I, um, I didn’t want you to look at me differently.” He shakes his head in frustration. “Do you know how hard it is to live a life where everyone around you knows all the depraved things you allowed people to do to you? Do you know what it’s like to carry that shame even though youknowit’s not your fault? For your husband have to tiptoe around you during sex or to have your best friends worry constantly about you?”

He turns tear-filled eyes on me. “It’s the worst, Nic,” he whispers, voice cracking. “It’s the fucking worst. But you—you didn’t look at me like that.” A tear runs down his cheek. “I was just… Holden to you. I wasn’t the fucked-up kid with trauma. Or the adult who had to learn emotional regulation. I was just Holden. Your big brother.”