My Dark Obsession: My Brother's Best Friends

Chapter 3: Cora

I just kept sobbing, my breath hitching painfully as I clung to Will like he was the only thing keeping me upright. His t-shirt dampened beneath my cheek, the fabric growing colder as my tears soaked through. My hands were clenched into fists, twisting the material like my life depended on it, like letting go would send me spiraling into an abyss I couldn't escape.

And Will just held me.

His strong arms wrapped around me, one slung across my back, pressing me against his chest, while the other cradled my head, tucking it under his chin. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding me, keeping me tethered to something solid.

“Are you hurt, Cora?” His voice was rough with concern, his chest vibrating against my ear as he spoke. “Physically, are you hurt in any way?”

I shook my head violently, unable to form words through the gasping sobs. A strangled sound tore from my throat, raw and broken, the kind of sound I hadn’t even known I was capable of making. It was agony—pure, unfiltered agony ripping through my body, twisting inside my chest until I thought I might shatter.

Will’s arms tightened around me, holding me impossibly closer.

“I got you,” he whispered, his voice strong and steady, his embrace so safe that, for a moment, I actually believed him. “Don’t worry, I got you, Cora.”

His hands moved then, prying my fingers free from the death grip I had on his shirt. He guided my arms up and around his neck, making me hold onto him instead. Then, without hesitation, his hands dropped to my waist, gripping me securely before hoisting me up against his body.

I instinctively clung to him, my arms tightening around his neck as I buried my face in his shoulder, my legs wrapping around his waist as if I feared he might let me go. But he didn’t. His grip was unyielding, his arms locked around me like he’d carry me forever if I needed him to.

I barely registered the sound of the door closing behind us as Will stepped inside David’s house. I knew he was moving, but it didn’t matter where we went—I only cared that he didn’t let go. Over and over again, he whispered that he had me, that I was safe, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

At some point, I felt the couch beneath me, the soft cushion shifting as Will sat down, keeping me right where I was—curled up in his lap, his arms still locked tightly around me.

I don’t know how long I cried. It felt like an eternity. The sobs wracked through me, violent and uncontrollable, shaking my entire body as I clung to him. I screamed until my throat was raw, until I had no more tears left to give.

And still, Will never wavered.

He just held me. Kept me steady. Let me fall apart in his arms until there was nothing left but exhausted sniffles against his t-shirt.

My voice was barely above a whisper when I finally spoke. “Da-Dave?”

“He’s out for the night,” Will answered, his hand moving in slow, soothing strokes up and down my back. “He chose to give me shelter.”

It made sense. Will practically lived at the fire station most nights, working long shifts, rarely staying in one place for too long. He still had a room at his family’s ranch, though he didn’t spend much time there, and whenever he needed a place to crash in town, David’s place was his go-to.

I nodded, sniffling again, doing my best not to get snot all over him. For a second, I just let myself breathe. Just let myself be.

And for the first time all night, I felt held.

David was one of the best huggers I knew, but Will… Will was something else entirely.

It was like he just knew. Like he could read me, like he understood exactly what I needed without me saying a word. And right now, I needed to feel like someone could hold me together, like I wasn’t going to fall apart the second they let go.

And that was exactly what he gave me.

With a heavy sigh, I leaned back slightly, my body shifting until I was perched on the edge of his thighs, still close enough to feel his warmth but with just enough distance to see him clearly.

His brown eyes were soft, filled with something I couldn’t quite name, and in the dim glow of David’s floor lamp, they looked like deep pools of melted chocolate.

I knew I had woken him up—his hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, like he had either had the most uncomfortable sleep in history or had been tangled up in an extremely passionate makeout session. The thought made my stomach twist unexpectedly, but I pushed it away before it could settle.

His gray t-shirt, stretched across his broad chest and shoulders, had Westfield Fire Department printed across the front, a logo in the center. The fabric bunched slightly at his waist, where it met the loose waistband of his black Nike shorts—the kind that clung to his thighs just enough to make them look even stronger, the kind that made every man’s butt look undeniably good.

I swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of just how close we were.

My breath hitched as I brought my hands up, covering my face. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice hoarse and weak. “God, I’m such a mess. I’m sorry, Will.”

His grip on my waist tightened slightly, his thumbs stroking slow, soothing circles against my sides. “Don’t be,” he murmured, voice unwavering. “Tell me what happened.”

I hesitated.

Even though his voice was gentle, there was something in his expression that made me pause.

David had always been the kind of guy to threaten to punch someone in the face—but Will? Will was the kind of guy who actually would.

He had never been a fan of James. Not once. He never said anything outright, but he didn’t have to. I had always known. And something told me that after tonight, whatever little patience he had left for my husband would be completely gone.

I bit my lip, debating.

Should I even tell him?

Would it make things worse?

My eyes searched his face and I saw it, the slight furrow of his brows, the faint crinkle of skin between them, the tightness in Will’s mouth, the way his jaw clenched and unclenched like he was already preparing to be furious on my behalf. His entire body radiated tension, his muscles coiled tight like a predator ready to pounce. The only thing about him that didn’t seem outright dangerous was his eyes, warm and soft despite the storm raging behind them, and the way his hands never stopped moving, gently stroking my sides as if he was trying to keep me grounded.

I shook my head, my bottom lip trembling all over again. "I can't."

For a moment, his hands tightened on my waist, his fingers pressing into my skin like he wanted to hold onto me harder, like he wanted to shake the words out of me. But almost as quickly as he had tensed, he forced himself to relax again, his thumbs resuming their slow, calming movements against my body.

"Why not, Cora?" he asked, his voice low and steady. "You can tell me anything. You know that."

He wasn’t lying. Will knew more about me than almost anyone. He had been my confidant for so long, the person I turned to when I needed to be heard, the one who had always been there—without judgment, without expectation. Just there.

My fingers started playing with the excess fabric of his t-shirt, folding and twisting it around them, anything to keep my hands busy as I avoided his gaze. "You won’t like it," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Will let out a slow breath, his grip never faltering. "Tell me anyway."

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening as fresh pain crashed over me. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to stay composed, to be strong enough to get the words out—because once I did, I knew there would be no turning back.

"I thought James and I were moving forward," I started, my voice shaky. "I thought the next step for us would be… kids. That maybe soon, I’d finally get to be a mom."

I glanced up at Will from beneath my lashes, finding his full attention locked onto me. He wasn’t just listening—he was absorbing every word, every hesitation, every crack in my voice.

"Go on," he murmured, but his voice wasn’t as soft anymore. There was something sharper in it now, something simmering just beneath the surface.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. "But when he came home today…" My voice caught, and I let out a frustrated sound, pressing my palms over my face. "Fuck."

The memory of it all came rushing back, hitting me like a freight train—the way I had set everything up so perfectly, the way I had been so perfect, thinking tonight would be special.

"I cooked dinner for him, Will. I did everything right." My hands dropped to my lap, and I shook my head as the tears pricked my eyes again. "I made steak. His favorite beer. Even homemade garlic bread—the one he always asks for. I wanted everything to be perfect, so I could tell him how much I wanted us to start a family." My voice broke then, a sob slipping through. "But before I could even get the words out, he told me he wanted an open marriage."

Will's hands stilled on my waist.

No more soothing circles. No more gentle touches. Just stillness.

The words wouldn’t stop coming now. The pain was bubbling over, spilling out in a flood I couldn’t control.

"He told me we’ve only ever been with each other, and that even though that was great, what about everything else? That before we do the whole kids thing, we should—" I swallowed hard, my voice dropping into something bitter, something vile. "—try having s*x with other people."

Rage ignited inside me, fierce and hot, burning through the devastation like a wildfire. My entire body felt like it was vibrating, my hands shaking as they twisted harder into Will’s shirt, my knuckles turning white.

"And I do everything for him, Will. I have never said no. If he wanted to try something new, I did it, as long as it wasn’t completely insane. I thought I was pleasing him. I thought I was enough. I thought—" My voice cracked, and I let out a humorless, broken laugh. "I thought having s*x with me was good, because that’s what he’s been telling me for eight f*****g years."

Will was silent.

Dangerously silent.

I could feel the way his body locked up beneath me, the way his breathing changed, how each exhale came slower, more controlled, like he was restraining himself from unleashing something violent.

But I wasn’t done.

"I gave him everything," I spat, my voice shaking with fury. "And now he chooses to f**k me over? Now? After eight years of loving him unconditionally, after never even looking at another man—" I hesitated, my heart stuttering for half a second, because that wasn’t entirely true. But Will didn’t need to know that.

Instead, I forced myself to keep going.

"He stood there, looked me in the face, and told me he wants the possibility of cheating—without actually being the bad guy for it."

My chest heaved as I sucked in a breath, trying to steady myself. My eyes met Will’s, and I could see it then—the pure, unfiltered anger simmering beneath his gaze. His fingers twitched against my waist, like he wanted to clench his fists but refused to do it while touching me.

I licked my dry lips and swallowed down the fear clawing at my throat.

"But… I love him, Will."

And just like that, the rage inside me dissolved, leaving behind something hollow and aching.

"I love him so much it hurts," I whispered. "So I told him it was okay."

Tears slipped down my cheeks, silent and unrelenting.

"I told him he could go out and do whatever he wanted, as long as he got tested." I let out a small, bitter laugh, shaking my head at myself. "Because if he goes out there and gets this out of his system, then he’ll come back, right? I’m a good wife. I do everything I should be doing. He’ll come back to me, and then we’ll be good again. He’ll finally give me what I want."

I searched Will’s face, begging him to validate me. To tell me I wasn’t crazy. That I wasn’t making a huge mistake.

"Right, Will?" My voice was barely a whisper, fragile and uncertain. "Tell me I’m right."

But Will didn’t.

His body was stone.

His jaw tightened, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths, his grip on my waist firm, as if he was keeping himself from flying off the couch entirely.

And then, finally, he spoke.

"I’ll kill him."