“I remember how you climbed into my bed thinking it was your brother’s the night of the floods,” he says quietly.
My breath hitches. “I—I thought it was his bed,” I murmur, while the memory barrels into me like a wave.
The power was out. The rain was hammering the windows and my brother, Josh, was having a sleepover, which he dragged me along to when he realized dad had to work. I went to use the bathroom, and when I came back, I just crawled under the nearest blanket in the dark. I didn’t realize it wasn’t Josh’s.
Not until I woke up with my head on Jaxson’s chest, his arm around me, warm and still, like he would rather not wake me.
He didn’t even move. But my brother did.
He tore back the blanket like I’d committed a crime, ripped me out of Jaxson’s bed, and yelled, really yelled at
