Page 25 of We Are Yours

I broke the stillness, needing to hear it from her lips and not my brother’s.

“What’s your name?”

Her gaze tapered. She wanted to answer, to talk, to let me in so to speak…

She didn’t.

My hand flew to my ribs, hissing from the jolt of pain. “Fuck,” I murmured under my breath.

Her eyes widened, her concern cutting through the tension.

“I’m fine,” I eased, trying to sit up. “Fuck,” I repeated, failing miserably at doing so.

I caught her slightly smirking before she reached out her hand to help me. I gawked at it for a minute until I had no choice but to accept her assistance, knowing I owed her one now, and I always paid my debts.

For some reason, that realization came and went.

She cocked her head to the side, arching her eyebrow at me. Basically arguing that I let her help me or that I was stuck there.

I couldn’t resist, I chuckled, amused with her muted response. The sensation was unexpected as the noise left my lips. I reluctantly grabbed her hand, and she lifted me with her. Carefully, she set my arm on her shoulder and wrapped hers around my waist. Gently, she stood with me by her side.

Once we stood, I found my footing, causing my ribs to ache and throb. It was my turn to narrow my eyes at her, feeling like she had something to say but was forever hesitating.

Our eyes connected again, and my patience wore thin when I barely had any to begin with. I wanted to ask her so many questions. Even if I asked, I wouldn’t get an answer, and it would only further piss me off. I had to bite my tongue, and that was the hardest thing for me to do.

It took us two hours to get back to the house, when it was usually a half-hour walk. I had to keep stopping from the crippling pain in my ribs. She was patient as we walked, never once showing any annoyance toward me. I couldn’t decide whether I would have helped her in a similar situation, and I thought about it for most of the walk back to the front door.

It felt good as soon as we walked inside to have finally made it back home with her.

Home.

The four-letter word carried a big punch as I thought it over for a minute, realizing this wasn’t just my home anymore.

It was hers too.

* * *

And that realization hurt far more than any pain in my ribs ever could.

Chapter

Ten

Isla

“In silence, we often find the deepest connection.” -Unknown.

* * *

One month later.

* * *

After rushing down the stairs, I threw a bagel in the toaster, spread some cream cheese on it, and ran out the front door. Grabbing my bag and throwing it over my shoulder, I took the porch steps two at a time and jumped on Julius’s bicycle I’d cleaned up a couple of weeks ago. I left it leaning against the column of the house.

It didn’t take long until I was pedaling up to the river, ditching my bike near an old willow tree, and walking over to them. Julius and Kraven were working the festival and performing on the street that day. I tried to catch any show they put on when they were close enough for me to ride the bike.

Sometimes I rode on the back of Julius’s street bike, but it was hard with his instrument, so it didn’t happen as often as I hoped.