Austen threw himself into her like they had not seen each other for a long time. Well, literally, yes. Their embrace could only tell one thing—they were siblings.
“I-I t-thought you’re dead.” Austen’s voice cracked in the end, squeezing her more into a hug.
“Well, I’m alive, ain’t I?” she chuckled.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Hiding?” There was amusement in her voice that I found myself chuckling.
“Not funny.” Austen cupped her face, inspected her, and kissed her forehead. “Jesus Christ! it’s real! You’re real! You’re alive.”
If I had not known he was her brother, I already ripped his hands off of her face.
Okay, mate. Let’s clear things out first. First, you don’t have the right to do that. Second, that’s her half-brother, and she’s married, so shut that archaic act out of you
