Page 22 of Desecrated Saints
“It’s fine. I get it.”
“He loves you. That’s why he’s upset that he couldn’t be there.”
“I know you all think that Seven is the bad guy.” She sighs. “I’m not blind. He is the bad guy, but he’s also the reason I’m alive. It’s down to him that Hudson found someone resembling a person in the basement, not a rotting corpse.”
I have so many pointless one-liners to roll out, but none of them will fix anything. He was there and we weren’t. For that reason alone, Seven can remain alive. I don’t like the guy, but I can accept his existence if it’s inextricably tied to my girl. He’s earned that much.
“Dance with me,” I blurt.
“What?”
Scrambling to my feet, I wobble and realise I’m drunker than I thought. Freedom is doing my sobriety no favours. Offering Brooklyn a hand, she stares at me before letting me drag her up.
“There’s no music,” she complains.
“Do you need it?”
Hesitating, her arms twine around my shoulders until we’re flush together. I gently rest my hands on her hips, teasing the sliver of exposed skin from her low-rise shorts. I can feel her heart hammering against mine, two racing engines set to implode.
“I guess not. Although we look like lunatics.”
I grin at her. “Firecracker, we are fucking lunatics.”
Beginning to sway my hips, I ease Brooklyn into it by holding her against my body. When she begins to relax at my touch, I twirl her in a slow, romantic waltz. I meant to lighten the mood and make her laugh, but I wasn’t expecting this thick, intense atmosphere between us.
It feels like an ash cloud is raining on us both, sucking the very air from our lungs. I’m suddenly nervous. Shoving my insecurities aside, I take Brooklyn’s hand and spin her outwards. She ducks beneath my arm before twirling back and colliding with my chest.
“You can dance!” she gasps.
“I’m full of surprises, didn’t you know? I’ll add dancer to my growing resume.”
There’s no space between us. I can almost feel the razor-sharp edges of her soul slicing my skin like barbed wire. We’re magnetised together, an asteroid on a collision course, set on destruction. Her lips seal on mine and I kiss her slowly, gently, with all the emotion I’ve never been able to express.
“I’m glad you’re still alive,” I admit in a low whisper. “Even if another man had to hold you together when I couldn’t. I don’t give a fuck if he’s what you need. I’ll take whatever portion of you I can get.”
“Phoenix…”
“No buts. If that means sharing, I’ll share. Whatever it takes.”
“It’s not like that,” she rushes out.
I slide a finger under her chin. “Isn’t it?”
Brooklyn flushes. “I don’t know, Nix.”
Swaying in the light of the fire, we dance to no music. In all the madness, this is the first time I’ve been alone with Brooklyn. Anxiety wraps around my lungs as I realise exactly what I want to say, something I regretted never telling her in those long, lonely months.
“Brooke?”
“Yeah?”
Running a hand over her short hair, my thumb brushes her bottom lip. I silently curse my nerves. What’s wrong with me? I’ve seen the world without her, and it isn’t worth sticking around for. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. I want to live for today and spend every second worshipping her.
“I’m in love with you. I want you to know that.”
I don’t look away or back down. I’ve spent my entire life running from commitment and emotions. I’m done. She’s it for me—every step I take from this day out, it’s with her by my side. Brooklyn bites her lip, looking oddly innocent as she mulls my declaration over.
“What about Eli?” she finally says.
