13

Samantha was nibbling on her breakfast when Killian ended the phone call and strode back to her to kiss the top of her head again. She had barely overheard the conversation, but rarely paid any attention to business conversations her brother was having. She wasn't naive. She knew that she didn't want to know and was usually not curious about it either. Sometimes ignorance was just bliss.

Samantha gave Killian an encouraging smile that should calm him down more than she did. Of course, as always, her brother had his own strategy for dealing with problems. He nimbly stole a pancake from her plate and pulled his chair so close to her that his arm touched hers. It felt incredibly wrong that her body would respond immediately when his instinctive need for closeness was just an expression of his suffering too. As if she would use his grief to act out her perverted feelings. That thought sickened her, and she unobtrusively pushed her arm aside to break skin contact. She twisted her hand and landed some maple syrup on her chin. Before Samantha could do anything about it herself,

Samantha heard the blood rush to her cheeks as she watched his lips curl around his finger absently and he gave her a gleeful look, as if the gesture wasn't terribly disreputable. But that's how it was. They were siblings. What he did was a sign of caring not of...other things. She looked down at her plate in embarrassment.

"Do you have to go away today?" she asked hesitantly. It wasn't as if she only asked this question to get rid of the oppressive feeling of this situation, she was honestly afraid of being left alone. Maybe it was wrong of her, being the spider monkey right now - as Killian liked to call it, although she couldn't see anything wrong with that: her mother had just died and Killian was all she had left.

"I don't know, but I would hate to leave you alone," he replied, pulling a plate with more flatbreads towards him and piling more on her plate as well.

"Sometimes I honestly wonder what I would do without you," she grinned, watching him generously dip his pancake in syrup before popping it all the way into his mouth. Where her brother hid all those calories, she couldn't tell, he'd always had a tremendous appetite, but I guess that wasn't unusual for a man of his stature.

"Breakfast in peace," he joked and stole something from her plate again and Samantha couldn't help but chuckle. Even now, Killian managed to make her laugh. Even in this situation and it did her so incredibly well to do it remember that she was allowed to be happy too.

A knock broke the peaceful mood and without waiting for an answer, a man pushed his way into the apartment, whose appearance dispelled any small doubts about himself and simply put her in a good mood. Thomas. Although he certainly hadn't slept all night and there were dark shadows under his eyes, he was glowing and looking just as good as ever. He wore his dark long hair in a sloppy ponytail on his neck and the tight T-shirt flattered each of his supple muscles, which usually only runners possessed.

But the smile he showed today didn't quite reach his eyes and when he spread his arms and Samantha, as always, followed the request and hugged him, the mood shifted a bit. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes again, but were immediately caught in his hand.

When Samantha raised her head, Thomas cupped her face in both hands and looked down at her as lovingly as if he were her brother. But that was also the moment when a small voice in Sam's head spoke up and made her aware that Killian's look was completely different. Even if Thomas's was that of an actual brother, then what about Killians?

"Shhhh. Everything is good Cherry. I take care of everything You stay here and rest," he said, then let go of her and reached behind her to hold a large gym bag against her chest.

“Clothes, toiletries, books, magazines and a little surprise. Say thank you Tomtom!” Samantha smiled again. “Thanks Tomtom,” she murmured in surrender, receiving a kiss on the cheek as a reward. After that, Thomas greeted Killian in that typically masculine manner. A quick hug, a firm pat on the shoulder, and very few words.

"Are the authorities causing trouble?" Killian asked while Sam set the heavy bag down and inspected what exactly Thomas had packed her. First, she noticed a small stack of her favorite shirts and matching jeans, socks, one Hairbrush and as promised some other hygiene items that still had a label. She hesitated briefly. Why didn't Thomas just bring her own things from the bathroom...then scales fell from her eyes and she let it go new plastic toothbrush cup fall.

The men who had just been engaged in conversation stopped and looked over at her, startled. As she just stood there and made no move to pick up the dropped items, Killian felt a little spooky. The strong, supportive arms that wrapped around her from behind made her stop shaking and she regained her composure.

Her mother killed herself. In the bathroom. Probably the arteries, that wasn't just a cliché, it usually made a huge mess. Rarely did crime thrillers show on film how much pressure blood actually spurted out of the body when a main artery was hit. Everything must have been dirty, so Thomas hadn't brought her anything from the bathroom.

"I'm fine," she murmured, but Killian didn't seem content with that. He walked around her, cupping her face like Thomas had already done to stop her tears and looked at her. It was so completely different than with Thomas. Or maybe it was just her own perverted thoughts that made her read something. But if it weren't so completely off the mark, she could swear Killian was looking at her as only a man could look at a woman. Possessive, protective and demanding.