Fragile Bonds



Every inch of my body is stiff as I try to carefully maneuver my way over a sleeping child and dog. I lean down, brushing my lips across Jacob’s forehead before leaving the room. I may have gone through days upon days of training on how to help families cope with an imminent death, but nothing could have prepared me for last night. Listening to Jacob sob as he drifted off to sleep, asking me repeatedly why his mom wouldn’t look at him in his dream was like a knife to the heart.

The apartment is still quiet, so I make my way to the kitchen, easily falling back into the morning routine we had developed in North Carolina. Once the coffee is brewing, I start breakfast, knowing that will rouse the men in my life. I’m beginning to wonder if Xavier and I are fooling ourselves when we say we can’t be anything more than friends. What we have already feels like something deeper than what we had when we were committed to one another and planning a future together.

“Good morning.” Xavier’s gravelly voice awakens parts of my body that I really wish would stop trying to make decisions for me. I look up from the griddle filled with French toast and see him walking lazily toward me. The way his hand is up the back of his shirt, scratching an itch, exposes a small patch of deeply tanned skin on his flat stomach. I know exactly where that dusting of hair above his waistband leads and my mind is having no problem conjuring those memories right now. “Damn, Melanie,” Xavier laughs, shaking his head. “Keep looking at me that way and I’m going to have to wipe drool off your chin.”

I turn hastily, reaching for something in the refrigerator. The only thing I need right now is a blast of cool air on my heated flesh. I don’t know why I’m reacting this way; it’s not like I haven’t seen him in less over the course of the past month, but today it feels different. This isn’t a vacation rental on the ocean, this is his home.

“Sleep well?” I ask, trying to change the subject. I don’t want to think about the way I was looking at him, much less talk about it. We just need to get through breakfast and then Brody and I can head home. To my apartment. Where I won’t be staring temptation in the face, or other body parts.

“Barely slept at all,” Xavier responds. His hand casually sweeps across my hip as he reaches for a coffee mug. It would be so easy to turn around right now and look into his sapphire eyes while I admit everything I’m feeling for him in this moment. There are so many reasons why that would be a catastrophic move, so I grip the edge of the counter, closing my eyes as I pray he moves out of my personal space so I can think.

I try moving to the side, giving Xavier room to reach the coffee pot without me being in his way, but I’m stopped when he takes one tiny step closer to me, pressing his body to mine. When I look over my shoulder, my breath hitches at the look on Xavier’s face. It’s an odd combination of pain and lust. I turn around, leaning against the counter, bracing myself because if he keeps looking at me that way, I have no doubt my knees are going to buckle.

“What are we doing?” I ask breathlessly, becoming painfully aware of the fact that I am still wearing nothing but a skimpy tank top and men’s boxers. I feel totally naked as his gaze travels the length of my body.

He scrubs his hands over his face, breaking the penetrating stare without giving more than an inch of space between our bodies. “I have no clue,” he sighs.

I jump when I hear the front door open, which does nothing to help the developing inferno between us because my body collides with Xavier’s firm chest. His arms wrap around me, preventing me from escaping. The situation only worsens when Braydon walks in, a smirk creeping across his face when he sees our compromising position.

“Don’t fucking say it, Bray,” Xavier warns. I look up at him, wondering what I’m missing. He bends down, kissing my forehead before letting go.

My brain feels foggy with pent up lust and I stand there, staring as the two men walk into the living room. I’m brought back to the present by the acrid scent of burning eggs and bread. I quickly move to clear the griddle, tossing the ruined food in the garbage can. Xavier and Braydon are speaking in hushed tones so I can’t hear their words, but based on the body language, I can tell Xavier isn’t comfortable with what’s being said.

“You staying for breakfast?” I ask Braydon. He looks back at me with that same smug grin on his face before making a face at his younger brother.

Sloan Johnson's books