The Original Crowd (A Whole New Crowd 0.50)

So I became his rock. During those times when Jace would have a particularly rough fight, I let Brian crawl into my room.

That became the pattern for us.

I knew he was capable of violence. I’d seen it enough time. Never against me, but against his father, and against Jace. That’s what they grew up with. Their mom took off a long time ago.

So it was the three of them.

And Jace was right—their dad had turned ‘em against each other. Their relationship had been doomed from the beginning. Or so it seemed most of the time. But sometimes, I still saw Brian’s idol worship for his big brother. And sometimes I saw the big brother come out of Jace.

They loved each other, but they were just too busy hating each other first.

“Hey,” Crystal nudged me with her arm, her voice soft, “you okay?”

I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

“Yeah,” I murmured, glancing away as I quickly wiped at my tears, “I’m fine.”

“Is…?” I knew she wanted to ask about it, but I didn’t want to hear it. So I’m sure she got that.

I missed Brian. I missed…the familiarity. I missed hearing him laugh and do his half-groan at the same time. I missed when he’d get angry and the corner of his eyes would squint—just slightly—but then he’d just swear and go back to being happy. I missed…how he could never lie to me. How he’d whisper his love for me. His need for me.

I missed that life.

Brian had been my life.

“You coming?” I was jolted back to reality and realized Tray had the car waiting, dropping off Crystal and Carter at the door. Crystal stood at her door, asking if I was coming in with them.

“Uh, no. I’ll walk with Tray,” I replied hoarsely.

“Suit yourself,” she said lightly, closing the door.

Tray didn’t say anything as he parked and shut the vehicle off. Neither of us moved.

I stayed in place, sitting in the back, right behind him, and I cried. I just…cried. They were silent tears, a continuous stream down my face. I couldn’t look at Tray so I looked outside.

After awhile, he turned around and held my hand. His simple touch made me cry harder.

Then he moved to the back and held me. He curled me against his chest, with my hands fisting his shirt, and I openly sobbed.

Seemingly exhaustive moments later, I quieted. The well had gone dry.

Tray pressed a kiss to my forehead. He rested his cheek against my forehead and sighed a deep breath, and, for some reason, it calmed me. It strengthened me.

“I’m…” I tried to say.

Tray soothed, “It’s about fucking time. Just…cry, alright?”

“I’m good. Really,” I whispered, tipping my head back to meet his eyes.

“Sure?”

“Yes.” I smiled tenderly and kissed him softly.

“Alright.” He sighed. “Ready to go?”

“Ready to go,” I assured him, and climbed out of the SUV.

And because no one was around, I reached for his hand, our fingers intertwining as we walked up the drive-way. The smooth slide against each other until they fell into place. Like a key meeting its lock.