Letting My Brother's Best Friend Take My V-Card

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| gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles ached, but | didn't loosen my hold. The tension had taken over

my entire body, and no amount of tightening or clenching seemed to release it. My jaw throbbed from how

tightly I'd been grinding my teeth. My head spun, replaying the moment over and over again. The sound of her

pained gasp, the way her body stumbled back, the blood on her face - all of it burned into my memory.

I hit Laura.

Sure, | didn't mean to. It wasn't intentional. | was in the middle of a fight, and she got caught in the chaos, but

none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was the fact that | hurt her. She'd tried to stop the fight,

tried to pullout of my rage, and | repaid her by hurting her. My foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, the

engine growling beneathas if it shared my anger. Anger wasn't the right word, though. | wasn't just angry. |

was fucking furious. At myself. At the whole situation. At Tim. But mostly, at myself.

"Fucking idiot," | muttered, slamming the heel of my hand against the steering wheel. The sound of the impact

didn't satisfy me. It wasn't enough. Nothing was enough to match the storm brewing inside me. | hit the steering

wheel again, harder this time, and then again. Each slam echoed in the confined space of the truck, but it did

little to ease the pressure building

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288 Vouchers

in my chest.

| couldn't believe it. Laura flinched. Not just from the pain, but because she was scared. Of me. That's what

guttedthe most. The way she'd pulled back when | tried to check her injury. The way her eyes darted to

mine, wide and unsure. It was like she didn't know if she could trustnot to hurt her again. And that... that

killed me.

And then she said it. That it wasn't the first time. She didn't need to say more. Her words hung in the air

between us like a loaded gun, ready to fire off the painful truth. Something happened to her. Something bad. And

it's made her scared to the point where she instinctively recoils, where she expects the worst.

My hands flexed on the wheel, and | let out a guttural growl, hitting the wheel again for good measure. "Fucking

hell, Josh." My voice was raw, frustration spilling out with every word. "You' re no better. You just proved her

right." The realization hitlike a freight train. | was supposed to be better. | was supposed to be someone she

could trust, someone who would never

make her feel unsafe.

The streets blurred past me, the familiar landmarks barely registering in my mind. I could hardly focus. I could

hardly think straight. All I could think about was Laura. Her face. Her tears. The ice pack pressed against her

nose. The way she'd looked at me, trying to reassurethat she was fine, even though | knew she wasn't.

I could've hurt her worse. What if | had broken her nose? What if she needed stitches? What if... God, | hated

myself right now. | hated that I let things get so out of control, hated that my anger BACK TO THE PAST

288 Vouchers

took over and blindedto everything else. Blindedto her.

My foot eased off the gas as | approached a red light, and | slammed my palm against the wheel one last time

before gripping it again, trying to steady my shaking hands.

"I need to fix this," | muttered to myself. My voice was harsh, filled with determination and desperation. But how

the hell was | supposed to fix this? How was | supposed to make up for what I'd done? She said it wasn't my

fault, but that didn't matter. She flinched because of me. She looked atwith fear in her eyes because of me.

That's on me. That's my burden to carry now.

took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me, but it didn't work. The anger, the guilt, the sh- it

was all still there, bubbling under the surface, ready to boil over at any second. My mind flashed back to her

words. "It's muscle memory, Josh."

Muscle memory. Those two words haunted me. What kind of shit had she been through to make her react like

that? What kind of pain had she endured for her body to have a reflex like that?

The light turned green, and | pressed the gas pedal again, my truck lurching forward as | drove through the

intersection. | couldn't stop thinking about it. About her. About the look on her face when | reached for her. About

the way she'd pulled away from me, like she couldn't trustnot to hurt her again.

I" [1 : :

No," | said aloud, shaking my head

q u

as if that would “IRE the memory. 'I

1 ll : NH

NAY behatg sy. not going to be

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that guy." | The content is on

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f o

wouldn't let her think ofthat way.

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| wouldn't let her associatewith

: : |

the kind of pain she'd clearly peem

throug hbeforedd ab (vhatover it

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tdok to prove to her that I'm not like

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that. That I'm better than that. But

how? How the hell do you fix

something like this? How do you

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undo the damage you've done? The

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the latest chapter there!

| pulled into my driveway, killing the

engine and sitting in silence for a

moment. My hands wry sao

. A cL .

straking\vly chest still felt tight. But |

q A [

knew one thing for sure: | couldn't let

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this go. | couldn't let her go.

OVERTHINKING The content is on

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