Fun fact: Cousin was born in 1996. When I first started writing this book that would have made him 19 years old.

Technically now, going by that date, he's 25 almost 26 wow weird

they grow up so fast (and i write so damn slow i'm so sorry)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Katie wasn't lying. There we were, right on the screen; me being carried out of the woods, Cousin trailing behind. We looked like two entirely different people.

"Shit." I curse and Katie gives me a look. 

The discomfort in my sore leg was nothing to the sheer terror that was arising in my chest. I fall down onto the couch, and Cousin moves to sit beside me. I stare at him, and he stares right back. All I have to say is, "Mr. Father." And his eyes narrow, I knew he understood. 

He's going to see this. He's going to know.

My mother finding out is nothing compared to the circus.

"Tomorrow." I say dominantly, "We have to leave tomorrow."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Katie stares at me wide-eyed, "Mom's not going to kick you out."

"I'm not talking about mom!" I yell, though it wasn't out of rage, but fear, "Mr. Father, the circus owner, he's not happy about me taking Cousin from him. I have no doubt he's been trying to find us."

Katie looked horrified, "And when did you think you were going to tell us this?"

"I didn't want you to worry, I had it under control."

She shook her head frantically, "Fine, okay, I'll think of something, just don't make any crazy decisions without me." I didn't want to tell her that I typically make all crazy decisions without telling her. There was no way she can help me with this one.

"They can stay at my old apartment until the lease is up." Jace offered, "We're just going to have to move a bit sooner than we planned."

Katie pointed at her boyfriend in agreement, "Yes! Okay, yes. That's a little over three weeks they can stay. We'll think of a better plan by then."

Jace wraps his arm around my sister's waist, clearly trying to calm her down by his touch, "Don't worry about this, okay? It's going to be fine. I'll start moving stuff out to the new place tonight. We'll have everything out before tomorrow evening."

"Right." She took several calming breaths, "Right. You're right."

"And what about mom? She's going to be livid. There's no way she's going to just let me move out."

Katie gives me a look, "I'll think of something."

"You don't always have to think of something." I try to stand, but a sharp stab of pain shot up my leg, making me wince. "I'll think of something."

"Absolutely not. You'll just cause an argument."

"I'm not a child, Katie."

"You acting like a stubborn child is what got us into this mess to begin with!" She shouted, surprising all of us, making the room fall silent. I felt Cousin ease towards me, and when I glanced at him, his gaze was locked on my sister, a feral look of hatred aimed right at her. If she moved to hurt me, not that she ever would, would he attack her like he did the dog? 

Katie didn't fail to notice the look on his face, and instead of backing down, it only made her more upset, "It's because of him! Damn it, all for a grown man who acts like a wild animal. You have ruined your future, Bexley."

"It is not his fault!" I yell back, this time managing to stand, my anger heavier than the pain in my leg. "Don't you ever blame the consequences of my actions on him."

Clearly she still was not backing down, Jace quickly diffuses the argument by cutting in, "Bexley, maybe you and your friend should go upstairs for a bit." He pulls Katie closer to him, and she leans her head on his chest. He silently beckons to the stairs, and my defenses fall. Grateful for him, I nod to Jace, and begin to move up the stairs, Cousin following right beside me.

When we reach my room, I shut the door behind us, and feel myself wanting to cry. After everything Cousin and I have been through, this is what makes me upset? It is pathetic.

I refuse to cry in front of Cousin, so I steady myself, pull down every emotion resulting in me being overwhelmed, and walk to my bed. It's only five something in the evening, but I don't care. The day has been long, the night had been uncomfortable in the woods, and my whole body ached still.

I slipped underneath the covers, and said to him, "You can lay in bed with me if you'd like."

He stands in the middle of the room, watching me. I don't know if he was debating whether he should get in bed with me or not, but eventually, he makes his decision and climbs onto the bed, careful not to made any sort of contact with my body. 

I hand him an extra blanket to put on him, but he pushes it away. I give him another pillow, and he also pushes it away.  I give up and lay down, pulling my blanket overtop of me.

The exhaustion I have built up throughout the day hits me all at once. I want to sleep more than anything, but I don't. I can't. Not when Cousin lays down right beside me, our bodies not even a foot apart. 

I dared to turn over and stare at him face to face. His head is on the mattress, mine on my pillow. We stare at each other, like always, with nothing to say, nothing that needs to be said. We have never slept this close before. The only other time he has slept in the same bed with me, he was pressed to tightly against the wall, I was to scared to even look over at him, in fear he'd get up and return to his space on the floor.

Something is different about him today. 

He doesn't move, his body is as still as mine. The near-black color in his eyes doesn't look so dark at this moment. Being this close to him, I can see the faint pigment of brown woven into the shadows of his gaze. 

He was the most attractive man I've ever seen. Not because he looked like a model but entirely because he didn't. He was so unique, so utterly unlike any person that has ever existed. I can not stop him from drawing in my interest.

I swallow hard. Why was I admiring him like this? He is definitely not mentally ready, nor is he physically ready for a woman to stare at him in the way that I was.  For them to think of him as not just a man, or a man who needs help, but a man who may also be lonely. He wasn't ready. 

And yet, I was uncomfortable with him in my bed, not because I didn't want him in it, but because I may want him in it a bit too much.

These are feelings I beat down, I suffocate them with my hands, and I will never let them show. These are my guilt, and the sin my subconscious warns me is wrong.

I may be attracted to him in a way I can't quite come to terms with, but I will never, ever let anyone know. I would rather die than make him the slightest bit uncomfortable around me. 

He will never know.

I force a tired smile, "You should get some sleep."

He blinks once, then twice, and he says in a stiff, uncomfortable tone; "I am not a wild animal." It surprises me and takes me a moment to remember he was repeating the words Katie had yelled at me only moments ago. She called him a wild animal. She called him a wild animal and I didn't defend him.

My smile fades, and I don't even know what to say. The incredibly well-known feeling of guilt once again pulls at my heart and I speak faster than I should, "You are not a wild animal. You are nothing like an animal. You are a man, and you deserve to be treated like one. Katie didn't mean what she said, she was just mad at me, and she knew insulting you was the best way to hurt me. I'm sorry, Cousin."

He stares at me, his eyebrows lower, and he narrows at me. I feel the need to apologize again, "Really, I'm sorry."

"No." He surprises me by pushing himself inches away, from me, pressing his back against the wall, "I hate it."

I lift my head, "Hate it? Hate what?"

"I'm sorry Cousin. I'm sorry Cousin. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry." His unique accent makes his anger more distinguished. He balls the blanket under him in his fist, "I hate it." 

I'm suddenly finding it hard to breathe. I don't know why. "I didn't know you hated it when I apologized. I won't do it anymore. I won't say it."

"I hate it. I hate you." He's looking at me and when our eyes lock, he reaches out and roughly grips my arm, "I hate-" He immediately falls silent. His pointed fingers wrapped around my arm, his eyes glue onto where he's touching me. He blinks several times, and I don't dare talk.

His breathing is slightly erratic, like he's confused, and perhaps even scared. His hand coils tighter on my arm until it hurts, but I don't stop him. He's uncomfortable with touching me, but, I can't help but think, despite it making him uneasy, he wants to do it. I know what he's doing. He's experimenting. He's trying it out. This is normal, I think to myself. This is a good sign.

And then his hand releases my arm, and his fingers trail down my skin to the palm of my hand. His hand is shaking, and its cold, and yet he seems fixated on our touch. He gently presses his palm against mine, and I watched as he locks our fingers together.

Oh my god, he's holding my hand.

My heart is pounding, I hear it beating in my ears. 

His eyes stay on our hands. I'm scared if I make any sudden movement it'd scare him, and he'd let go.

I then hear commotion outside. It's most likely mother pulling into the driveway.  

Cousin hears it too and once again our eyes meet. Before the moment is ruined, I quickly push the words out, "I don't hate you, Cousin."

I don't expect him to respond, he never does. I watch him move his gaze back down to our hands, and instead of letting go, his grip around my hand tightens.