Free ONE WEEK 1 by Kristina Weaver

out of bed and race to the door, swallowing through the dizziness as I throw it open to see my big-ass, badass soldier of a brother standing there, his face one big thundercloud.
    “You look like shit,” he mutters, pushing his way in and scrunching his nose at the cartons of old Chinese takeout and empty whipped cream cans.
    “Thanks. Don’t hold back with the compliments. God knows I could use it right now,” I say sardonically, banging the door shut and walking into the kitchen.
    “Beck—”
    “If you’re here to give me shit about what I said at the wedding—”
    “No. You were right. I got mad about Dad giving me the cold shoulder and the rest of them not standing up and defending me when I should be pissed with myself about not having the balls to sit down and make him see what I want. That’s on me, not Mama or Grey or you. I just don’t know how to say what I need to without saying something that I can’t take back.” He sighs, shoving his feet onto the coffee table. “This place is a mess.”
    “Yeah. I quit my job and just kind of took a few days to sleep.”
    And cry and maybe convince myself that things will be okay. I have a lot of money in the bank, thanks to Dad paying some of my expenses, but that’ll stop soon when he hears I have no intention of becoming a lawyer.”
    The news shocks him, and I see his eyes widen before a bright smile burst across his face.
    “You tell the old man yet?”
    “Nope,” I mutter, shoving him over and flopping down beside him. “When I’m ready.”
    “He’s gonna shit a brick when you tell him daddy’s little princess isn’t following his map,” he laughs, pulling me close and scrubbing at my hair.
    “Stop that, you ogre.”
    “Nope. I missed you, and I wanna torture you a little.”
    I snort and pinch his side, digging my elbow in for good measure.
    “Coulda fooled me, asshole.”
    “What’s going on, Beck?” he asks, suddenly serious. “Grey called and told me to get you to answer your phone. Who are you avoiding?”
    And just like that I have my big brother and best friend back. I start crying and blubbering all over him, and he takes it, wrapping his big strong arms around me to pull me close and smell my hair.
    It feels so good I cry harder, clinging to his chest and telling him everything. Everything. By the time I’m done, I feel better and he looks ready to tangle with a rabid bull, and I laugh because now I know I have my brother back.
    “I should probably kill him, or rip his dick off. Or rip his dick off and then watch him bleed to death,” he says darkly, making me giggle.
    “No, this isn’t just his fault. I did this too; I just didn’t want to admit to myself that I messed things up because I was afraid to look like an ass. If anyone’s to blame here, it’s me. I should have told him how I felt instead of leading him on.”
    But then he would never have touched me, and I wouldn’t have ever felt his passion and gotten to hold him the way he’d let me. So yeah, while I’m pissed at him, I have to be woman enough to take some of the heat.
    “You should answer your phone.”
    “Yeah. I was going to yesterday, but he stopped calling me.”
    Figures.
    He rolls his eyes and looks down at my belly—which hasn’t been flat since I rolled out of Mama—and grins.
    “You got my first niece or nephew in there, scampers?” he asks softly, and I swear I see moisture in his eyes.
    “Oh, go get a tampon, you big old baby,” I grump, slapping his hand away playfully. “You can touch him when you tell me what’s going on with you. And no holding back, asshole. I want it all.”
    He tells me about loving his job and hating that Mama and Dad don’t support him in it. He tells me about a woman he fell in love with but caught in bed with one of his buddies. He tells me how he found out she was pregnant the day after she aborted his kid, and then he tells me that his heart is broken and he doesn’t know how to fix it.
    I cry,