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Suddenly I’m engulfed in strong, muscular arms, as all four of them try to hug me at once. They form a circle around me, talking all together and laughing, and it’s the best sound in the world. The best feeling. Sawyer is grinning right in my face, and although he still has to explain about his change of heart and how things evolved so dramatically within the last twenty-four hours, I have no doubts anymore.
We were meant to be.
“So…” I clear my throat after a while because they don’t seem intent on ever letting go. “Wanna meet my brother?”
43
KYRIAN
She said yes, and since we’re all fucking idiots, we tried to suffocate her instantly. I’m the first to pull back, give her some space, and then I realize she’s speaking to us.
“Come again?” I prompt.
“Would you like to meet my brother?” she says. “Or is this a bad time?”
“It’s perfect,” Roman says, “right, guys?”
We all nod, and truth is, I’m curious to meet another member of her family.
She’s still kind of nervous, glancing back at me as we mount the steps. “Shit,” she mutters, “this is probably a bad idea. I should have let you get back to work. Hell, I should have gone to work, I?—”
“Brin.” Archer lays a hand on her arm, careful not to seem overpowering. “We want to meet your family and friends. We want to see all sides of you because we can’t get enough of you.”
She snickers softly, but nods. “Okay. Sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing, honestly.”
“That’s fine,” Roman says. “Who does? We all make it up as we go along.”
“Except for our feelings,” I say. “You can’t make up feelings. Those are deep and real.”
Her smile becomes more real, too, reaching her eyes, so I know I’ve said the right thing.
It happens to idiots like me sometimes, too.
“Will they let us all inside?” I ask. “We’re not even family. Not yet, anyway.”
“He must be done with the chemo,” Brinlee explains. “He usually doesn’t stay very long after that, maybe an hour. Lately, he’s been handling the nausea much better.”
Nausea. Chemo. Fuck.
We wend our way through the hospital and enter a sterile waiting room where several painfully thin and pale people are seated, reading magazines or dozing.
She makes a beeline for one of them, a young man with a black bandana tied around his head and big dark eyes, like hers. “Ty! Hey.”
“Brin?” He blinks. “You left not half an hour ago. Am I hallucinating?”
“Nope. I brought some people I want you to meet.”
“Okay?” He looks confused. He struggles to get up, and she plops down in the plastic chair beside him, putting a hand on his arm, keeping him seated. “Who are they? Debt collectors?”
“Do they look like debt collectors?”
He tilts his head to the side, smiling. “That would be the best-looking group of debt collectors I’ve ever seen, I’ll admit.”
“This is…” She licks her lips nervously. “This is my pack. Hopefully.”
His smile widens. “Is it? Hi, guys.”
“Hi, Tyson.” I extend my hand for him to shake. His grip is weak. Then again, he’s sick. “I’m Kyrian, and those three behind me are Archer, Roman, and Sawyer.”
