Love Untouched (Unexpected) (22 page)

“What the fuck are you doing with my sister?!” His voice roared inside the room.

The element of surprise and the pack of his punch almost knocked me off balance.

My left jaw stung. I saw his face, darkened with fury; anger laced his eyes. He swung his right arm and I caught it mid-air.

“One punch. That’s all I’m going to allow you. Next ones aren’t free,” I warned. “Now, we can talk about this civilly, or we can punch this out of our system.”

“You mother
fucker
!” He yelled. His shoulders visibly shook, and his knuckles were strained white, fisted against his suit. He didn’t even go for a cool-down.

I guess there was no talking civilly.

His left hand swung, and this time, a feminine hand struggled against it but caught it.

“Not here, Milo.” Brynn’s small voice pleaded, her hand clamping down on her brother’s arms. “Please, not here.”

In her eyes, I saw hopelessness and regret. Was she regretting us? Was she resenting me for outing us like this?

Doubt filled my mind.

Milo was not stopping, he yelled again, “Get out of my fucking way, Brynn! This
motherfucking
piece of shit does not deserve you!”

Brynn intervened. “Milo please, take deep breaths. You need to calm down.”

Milo threw a disgusted and furious look at me, but I knew he was not going to hurt his sister.

Brynn instructed him, “One, two, three... breathe...” Milo unwillingly followed her command.

After reaching ten, she requested, “Now, let’s get out of this room, you guys go meet with your coaches, do your interviews, and we’ll all sit down and talk about this later.” Interviews were mandatory. Since I had not finished my interview, and neither had Milo, we still had responsibilities to fulfill.

Milo barely acknowledged her. He threw me one last hateful, rage-filled look, his fists wound up so tightly on his sides, before stepping out of the room.

Brynn held my right hand, and faced me, saying, “Go get ready. I’ll be outside with him. Then, he can come in and get dressed.”

Under these circumstances, the last thing I wanted was for Brynn to resent me. With a heavy heart, I nodded, grabbed my clothes from my locker, and put them on.

Milo was mad. Seething. Get-out-of-my-way-or-I-will-kill-you kind of mad.

And angry.

Very, very angry.

I knew this because he was silent. Deadly silent.

He was sitting on the far end of the couch in my hotel suite. I had texted Kieran while Milo drove us back here. Before we left the Aquatic Center, after finishing one very short interview with the press, Milo only talked to one other person, his coach, Chuck Trevails. They talked for five minutes max, then he turned his eyes on me and with an almost imperceptible nod of his head, I followed.

Before I left Kieran, who had gone back inside the locker room after his coach and trainers practically dragged him, I kissed him full on his mouth, reassuring him that everything would be okay. Well, as okay as it could be. He searched my face and looked like he wanted to say something else, but changed his mind about it.

He whispered, “Call me tonight, and I’ll be there.”

I acknowledged him by planting another kiss on his mouth and hugging him.

My thoughts of Kieran halted when Milo’s cold, hard-edged voice asked, “How long have you been seeing him?”

I stared at my brother. He looked formidable and furious, his green eyes fiery. He managed to change into a red shirt and jeans that Leif retrieved from his locker, obviously steering Milo away from Kieran’s vicinity, and vice-versa.

“Seven months,” I replied, looking straight into his eyes, not wanting to show any signs of weakness. I wanted him to believe that I was standing up for Kieran, whether he liked it or not. Whether he approved of it or not.
How ironic
. My brother was the one who saw me through the weakest points in my life, and now, I was trying to hide any weakness from him.

His voice low, enunciating every word, he threw my words back at me. “Seven fucking months.” He fisted his hands which were sitting atop his legs.

“I love him.” The sounds coming out of my mouth were soft like air but the severity, the weight of what came out, was loud and clear.

“You love him?” He repeated incredulously, “You fucking love that asshole? Do you even know what he did to me?”

I shook my head. “Yes, I do.” I paused, catching a lump in my throat. “He slept with Dia.”

His jaw clenched, his fists tapping uncontrollably on the side of the couch, clearly itching to throw or punch something or someone. He bit out, “And you still went out with him, dated him, and now you’re fucking telling me you
love
him?” He continued his assault, clearly wanting to inflict the pain that he was feeling inside, onto me. “Where does your loyalty lie, Brynn? Did he promise you forever? Did he tattoo a piece of forever in his skin to show you that?”

My lips remained shut.

“All this time... all this fucking time, you knew how much I hated him. You never asked why. I never told you because I didn’t think I’d ever have to.” He shot me a hard, accusing look. “Ask me why, Brynn.”

“No.” This was not going anywhere. “I don’t need to know why, what, or how, Milo. I’m with him, and he’s with me. End of story. Now you can either accept that or...” I stopped and looked away. What was I saying? He was still my brother, no matter what.

“Or what Brynn?” He looked murderous, eyes glaring, nose puffing out. “You’re going to disown me from being your brother? For a fucking asswipe?”

“He’s a good person, Milo,” I justified. Kieran slept with Dia.
Once.
I wanted to scream, “Get over it Milo. She was a bitch to you anyways.” But, my brother’s extremely short fuse of a temper would not be amenable to that idea.

“Oh yeah?” He sneered loudly, “A good person? Tell me, Brynn. Does a good person run around and flaunt the girl he slept with to her boyfriend? Does a good person forget to say, ‘Hey dude, sorry I didn’t get the memo she’s your girlfriend, and I slept with her’? Does a good person not congratulate you when you win, or have the decency to at least exchange a fucking spit in the air when you lose?”

“He’s not like that. He didn’t know you were with Dia, Milo. If he did, he wouldn’t have slept with her.” I could not guarantee that but over the past months, I had come to know Kieran had a solid moral compass; he would not intentionally sleep with another guy’s girlfriend.

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Brynn.” His voice ratcheted by ten decibels. “He never once looked at me and apologized. When I confronted him about sleeping with Dia, he just shrugged it off like it was nothing. I wanted to beat the crap out of him. Dia, just nothing? She was fucking mine, Brynn. Mine! She told me he seduced her.” His voice now extremely loud inside the room. He belted out, “She was mine. He had to have known. She was there during the meets, hugging me, standing in the bleachers. How could he not have known?!”

“Because he didn’t know, Milo,” I asserted. “He didn’t know. He’s just to himself. He doesn’t really spend time minding other people’s business. He doesn’t even look up at the stands unless he knows his family’s there.”

His eyes were lethal, as he spoke cynically, “You just fucking believe everything he says, don’t you? If he told you that he slipped on a fucking girl and landed on her pussy, would you just believe him Brynn? Just how stupid has he turned you? Just how unfeeling has he turned you—to turn your back on me and not care about how I would fucking
feel
?” I cringed at his crude remarks. He stood up, paced in front of the TV, and then dragged his feet to the door.

“Milo...,” I called from behind him, silently begging him to come back, to talk through this.

The look he gave me was enough to make my heart constrict achingly, painfully. His eyes reddened, his shoulders stiff as a pole, and his fists were shaking at his sides. “No Brynn. Stone will never have my blessing. You could drag me through hell and back a hundred times and I will still tell you the same thing, ‘He’s not good enough for you.’ The only thing that is stopping me from going back to where he’s at and punishing the shit out of him is that you are my sister. But know this, I will do everything I can to make you see that he’s not a good man. Especially for you.”

I stifled a gasp and tears began to form in my eyes. Before my tears spilled over, Milo had stomped out and slammed the door. This was worse than I thought, graver than what I had conceived in my head. Milo would never accept Kieran. His hatred for Kieran dug deep. It wasn’t just about their rivalry or Dia. To my brother, Kieran wounded him deeply and the scar was so profound it remained bruised, unhealed, and festered. Now, that scar has reopened the damage so great that the chances of it ever healing are now pretty much non-existent. Like a necrotic tissue, no oxygen can go in and out of the wound so it remains dead; if left in, the effect could be detrimental, fatal.

My brother was a good man. However, Kieran has threatened the peace, the solidarity that we had formed since I was in my mother’s womb; strengthened by the years and tragedies we have overcome. I was
the
single thread that held Milo in place. When everything and everyone left us, I was the only one who remained. Now, Milo was thinking that I was leaving him. A part of me wanted to deny that. A part of me wanted to say ‘no’, that I would be standing with my brother until the end. Even Milo must have sensed that if he had asked me to stop seeing Kieran, my answer would be different, not one he would have liked.

When I was ten, I fought for my life in the hospital. I went through chemotherapy treatment, and at night when I went to sleep, I prayed I would wake up so I could see those green eyes smiling down at me, knowing that he had not left me. Now, I can barely go through my days without wanting to look at a pair of deep brown eyes, which have slowly been embedded in to every fiber of my being. Since we were children, we had been so attuned with each other that Milo knew if he had asked me to choose tonight, I would have chosen Kieran. To him this was the deepest, most painful cut Kieran could have inflicted, turning his very own sister against him.

“I wish to go to Paris.”

~N.V., age 15, hypoplasia

“Focus, Stone. Focus,” Coach Smith instructed in a reprimanding tone. We were discussing the strategy for the finals in the 400-meter IM. “You need to shave of two seconds from your time. Tanner’s prelim time was faster than yours.”

I tilted my head in acknowledgement. I didn’t watch Milo’s swim. I hardly watch other competitor’s swim. For me, I was my own biggest rival. Milo swam fast, but I swam faster. But Coach was right; I had to focus. When I went for a dip in the pool this morning, my mind was not in the water. Coach must have seen that. He kept instructing me to watch my strokes, push against the wall to propel my kicks, and not lag on the swim. He usually didn’t push me a lot during warm-ups or training, but he must have sensed my lack of focus because he was on me today. And he had a right to be. This was it. The World Championships. A step closer to the Olympics.

I listened to what Coach had to say while I worked on my shoulders. I felt loose and that was a good thing. My shoulder strain was still there, but I could power through it. I was powering through it in all my events. I was competing with the best of the best. I’ve experienced worse shoulder pain than this; I would be fine.

I trekked the short distance to the hotel and walked softly to the bedroom. It was only nine in the morning. Brynn would still be sleeping. After the debacle with her brother a few nights ago, she has been staying with me at night. I took my shirt and jeans off, and left my boxers on. I wanted to feel her skin close to mine. She stirred when my body caused the bed to dip down. Brynn liked to sleep under the covers, so I slipped under the covers. The minute my hands made contact with her panty-covered ass, I got hard. It was always like this with Brynn. She made me feel this uninhibited desire.

“Mmm…,” her low murmur hit my ears, though she faced the other way. I stroked her hair and my hands started a lazy path down her body. I liked having her with me, especially at night. During the past few months, I slept at her place or she slept at mine, depending on our schedules. Since she lived in a one-bedroom apartment, I stayed in her bedroom when Milo came over for breakfast. He was there, like clockwork, from nine until 10:30 almost every morning. Brynn hid my shoes and clothing inside her room because Milo never went in there. It was a struggle for me to go along with it, but I did. I did it because she asked me to. Anything Brynn asked, I would give.
Until a few nights ago.
I just couldn’t help myself anymore. She was mine, and when I saw her wearing my colors along with her brother’s, it was all too much for me to take. I knew a disaster was bound to happen when Milo found out but I was ready for it. I’ve been ready for it. Many times, I wanted to just drive to his place and talk to him man-to-man about my feelings for his sister, but I stopped myself because I thought of Brynn, her reaction, her feelings. It was difficult to shove aside my uneasiness while waiting for her phone call the other night, when she left with Milo. I thought she was going to call me and tell me that we were over.