Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(115)

I meet his eyes, but skepticism lingers in mine.

He sees. “I’m human, too. I make mistakes. I wonder, all the time, about the choices I’ve made in life. Just like you. And I know what it’s like to feel compelled to choose a woman over your career. To risk your job for someone else. You know, I cut out of Amour early for Thora.”

I remember he thought she was in trouble, many months ago before she was part of AE.

“I would do more than that for her,” he admits. “I can’t picture my life without Thora, and I’m telling you, I understand what you’re going through.”

(Do you?)

Very deeply, Nikolai says, “Some love is infinite. And I’m going to help you fight for yours.”

My knees almost buckle as he lifts an insurmountable weight off of me, my lungs ablaze. “Don’t fuck with me, dude.”

“I’m not, I promise.” Nikolai rests his hand tenderly on the back of my head, and then he pulls me into a hug. A real hug.

(I’m not kidding.)

Hot tears run down my chin. I grip the back of his shirt and pinch my eyes with my other hand, crying. I can’t tell you the last time a family member consoled me like this. And I never imagined it’d be from Nik.

He’s a fortress. Something unbreakable, no matter how much I beat at him—and he’s also something keeping me standing.

I feel it fully.

Trying to cut the waterworks, I mutter a couple profanities and rub my face with a rough hand.

Nikolai says lowly, “You spend too much time with Dimitri.” Because of my language, probably.

I lean back some, both of our eyes reddened. “Jealous?”

He doesn’t deny it, and severity hardens his features. “If anyone corners you and tries to manipulate or blackmail you, tell me the moment after. Not a second or day or week later.” He pauses. “I’m always on your side, and I’m sorry I made you feel like I wasn’t.”

I let out a sound of relief and pain.

Nikolai clutches my face, and he says in Russian, “I love you, brother. I need you whole.”

I want that too.





Act Forty-One

Baylee Wright




Curling up on Brenden’s bottom bunk, I cry silently into his dinosaur Pillow Pet. I just listened to the most excruciating sobs from Katya and everything Timo said to Luka as he left.

I couldn’t stay in my bedroom any longer.

Brenden sits up against the headboard, typing on his laptop. “Dr. Spiro is only available Monday at noon. Will you be okay until then?”

When I don’t respond, he shakes my shoulder hard until I attempt to elbow him. It’s feeble and weak.

“Weak,” he actually tells me.

“You’re weak,” I say softly and turn my head, looking over at my brother. The computer screen illuminates his caring face in the shadowy bedroom. “I can’t go at noon.”

“Yes you can,” he says.

“I have practice.” I’m about to turn back into the pillow, but Brenden braces me up, his hand on my shoulder. I rub some of the involuntary tears, my cheeks wet.

“AE will give you an hour off to see your doctor. You should be going more anyway. I haven’t seen you this depressed since…” Knowingness suddenly bathes his features, and his head tilts back. “Something happened with Luka? Didn’t it?”

He seems more sympathetic and concerned than spiteful towards Luka. My lips part, wanting to be honest. Wanting to be free from every deceitful thing I’ve told my brother. I’m scared.

So, so scared.

I swallow and say, “I can just feel low for no reason.”

“Yeah, but events can also push you into a deeper depression.” He shuts his laptop and switches on a reading light attached to wooden slats above us. He likes dinosaurs, history museums, all languages, and literature—that’s my brother. I’ll claim him every day.

He’s mine.

And he deserves the truth. He deserved it five years ago.

Brenden grabs a box and starts covering me in tissues. “Thanks for washing Rexy-Rex. He needed a bath.”

I sniff his dinosaur pillow. “God, he smells bad.”

“Like your sorrow.”

I muster the strength to flip him off.

Brenden smiles.

I want to smile back. On another day, I would. I sit up partially and fold a few tissues, blowing my nose. Besides the occasional breathy snore, Zhen doesn’t make much of a peep on the top bunk.

I can feel my brother thinking hard.

With a breath, I say, “I don’t want you to stop prying.” I want Brenden to dig the truth out of me and take the heaviness away.

“What happened?” he asks outright. “You know I won’t judge or…I couldn’t be mad at you. I wouldn’t. I just want to know so I can help you.”

I shrug tensely, and I sigh a pained breath before I let it all out. I mean every last thing that I’m contractually not supposed to say. From five years ago. From the past months. Past week.

I don’t care about the no minors policy anymore. Everything seems pointless, and I just need someone to tell me what to do. What to feel.

Brenden only interjects to encourage. “Keep going,” he says nicely. “You can tell me. I’m not mad.” I’m not mad, he ensures me the entire time. Even when I confess about impersonating Luka in text.