Page 60 of Legally Yours
We made our way back down the sober, concrete stairwell, each footstep echoing up the shaft listlessly in a way that I couldn’t stand for more than two seconds.
“What’s that?” Brandon asked distantly as he continued.
“What was he talking about, that you need to learn to deal with these things on your own? What things?”
Beside me, Brandon sighed. “Your dad and grandma. Do you ever feel like they treat you like a little kid even though you’re grown?”
“Constantly,” I admitted, thinking particularly of Bubbe.
“Well, that’s Ray. We didn’t get on so well in the beginning, and he still sees me as the headstrong fuck-up they took in. Doesn’t matter that was twenty-five years ago.”
“So, the woman he mentioned…”
“Ancient history,” Brandon said quickly. “Nothing to worry about.”
We continued to walk until the echoes once again carried too much tension.
“Did the Petersens ever adopt you?” I asked.
Brandon’s eyes flashed as we approached another flight. “No.”
“Could they have?”
Brandon was silent for a bit. “The Petersens were the best parents someone in my position could have hoped for,” he said finally. “They took me in, they cared for me, and they let me stay well past the time I was a ward of the state. I think that’s enough, don’t you?”
I didn’t, but I kept my mouth shut. It was becoming clear that Ray Petersen had wanted to play some kind ofGood Will Huntingrole in Brandon’s life: rescue the brilliant kid from the ghetto to pad his own accomplishments. But Brandon’s desire to escape academia had proved a bitter disappointment. Maybe Ray hadn’t forgiven him for it.
Brandon deserved to be loved unconditionally—everyone did. I may have had only one flawed parent and a pushy grandmother to give that to me, but it was a damn sight more than some kids got. I wasn’t sure why Ray Petersen didn’t take that extra step. From what I could tell so far, there was a lot to love about his foster son.
We reached the end of the stairs in silence, Brandon now a few paces ahead of me. When I was two steps from the bottom, I grabbed Brandon’s jacket sleeve, pulling him to stop before he could open the exit door. With my extra ten inches or so, our eyes were about even. There I could see some unnamable pain he couldn’t quite mask, and my heart squeezed as he stared, open and vulnerable, back at me. So much of what he did now made more and more sense. It was all an attempt to make up for what he had been missing his entire life.
“What is it, Red?” he asked softly, reaching out one hand to tuck a stray lock away from my face.
I didn’t know quite what I wanted to say, but I was moved by his choice to take me here. It couldn’t have been easy. I wanted to tell Brandon that he deserved to be loved. I wanted to say I could be that person one day if he’d let me. I wanted to tell him he was amazing when he was content just to be himself.
But instead, I just reached up one hand and mirrored his action as I pushed a few errant strands of blond off his forehead. He was perfectly still as I traced my fingers around his ear and down the strong lines of his stubbled jaw, brushing my thumb gently over his full bottom lip.
“Thank you for taking me here,” I whispered. “I feel so…lucky. To know you.”
Brandon blinked, obviously confused, but before he could respond, I leaned in and pressed my lips softly to his. The brief contact sent an immediate shock wave through both of us, but I held him close. A few seconds passed, and his lips finally relaxed before he pulled away. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me again, but all traces of vulnerability had disappeared, replaced by something harder.
“Are you trying to fix me, Skylar?” he asked.
His blazing stare rendered me motionless.
“N-no,” I replied, my voice suddenly small.
Was I trying to fix something? He had looked so lost in that office, and I had wanted to do...I don’t know…somethingto take that feeling away.
“I don’t need to be fixed,” Brandon said emphatically.
He slid one arm firmly around my waist and jerked me up against him so that I could feel every inch of his iron body from my chest down to my toes. The lost boy was gone, and what had replaced him was a very strong man who could do whatever he wanted with me.
“I don’t need…” he trailed off as he buried his nose into my neck, pushing the collar of my blouse off my shoulder so he could nip my collarbone in a way that made me forget just where I was. He trailed back up, brushing his rough cheek against mine. “To be fixed,” he growled before taking my lips again.
There was no question in his statement at all; he wasn’t looking for a rebuke. And before I could protest, his deep, forceful kiss seemed to seep into every nerve ending in my body. His tongue sought entry, and as soon as I opened my lips, he entered with avarice, as if he couldn’t taste me enough.
In a few swift movements, Brandon lifted me off the stairs and backed me up against the wall under the stairwell, where we were hidden in the shadow from anyone who might come walking in. He continued to ravage my mouth and neck, large hands pulling my coat open and undoing the button and zipper to my pants with deft, demanding movements. He yanked my pants and underwear down my thighs in one swift motion, and while one hand continued to hold me around my waist like a vise, the other slipped in between my legs, thrust one finger, and then two into me.