The rain tapped softly against the window of the old family home, a familiar rhythm that had lulled them both to sleep countless times when they were children. Inside the small bedroom that had once been his, Alex sat on the edge of the bed, knees bouncing with restless energy. The room still smelled faintly of the lavender sachets their mother used to tuck under his pillow. The same bed, the same faded blue quilt, the same chipped wooden headboard where Mia had once carved a tiny heart with a pocketknife when he was six and she was eleven, whispering that it would keep the monsters away.

Mia stood in the doorway, arms crossed loosely over her chest, wearing the oversized hoodie she always stole from his closet when she came home for visits. She was twenty-eight now, taller than most people remembered her being in childhood photos, her dark hair still falling in loose waves past her shoulders. She had the same sharp eyes, the same easy confidence that used to send bigger boys scattering when they cornered him behind the school gym. Alex, twenty-three, had grown into his own height and frame, but some part of him still felt small when she looked at him like that—half amused, half protective.

“You’re staring,” she said, voice soft but teasing. “You’ve been quiet all dinner. What’s on your mind, kiddo?”

He hated that nickname now. It used to feel safe. Now it felt like a wall.

He swallowed. “Sit with me?”

She hesitated for half a second—long enough that he noticed—then crossed the room and dropped onto the mattress beside him. The bed dipped under her weight, and for a moment they were kids again: her reading him stories until his eyelids grew heavy, her voice low and steady while she combed her fingers through his hair, promising she’d fight anything that tried to hurt him.

But they weren’t kids anymore.

Alex turned to face her. His heart hammered so hard he was sure she could hear it. “Mia… I need to tell you something. And I’m terrified you’re going to hate me for it.”

Her brows drew together. “You know I could never hate you.”

“You might.” He took a breath, then another. “I’ve been trying to ignore it for years. I told myself it was just… gratitude. You were always there. Always. When the older kids cornered me after school, you’d show up like some kind of avenging angel, fists flying, blood on your knuckles, and then you’d hoist me onto your back and carry me home even though I was heavy and crying. You’d clean me up, feed me, wash my hair in the tub while I sat between your knees. You’d sing me to sleep right here, on this bed, telling me stories about brave knights and dragons until I believed I was safe forever because you were in the room.”

Mia’s expression had gone very still. She didn’t move, didn’t speak.

“And I know that’s not normal,” he went on, voice cracking. “I know I should have grown out of needing you like that. But I didn’t. I just… started needing you in a different way. I started noticing things. The way your shirt clings when you step out of the shower. The curve of your waist when you stretch in the morning. The sound of your laugh when it’s just us. I tried to date other people. I tried to push it down. But every time I close my eyes, it’s you. It’s always been you.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and trembling.

Mia finally looked away, toward the window. Rain streaked the glass like tears. “Alex…”

“I know it’s wrong,” he whispered. “I know we’re not supposed to feel this. But I can’t pretend anymore. I love you. Not just as my sister. As… everything.”

She exhaled slowly. When she turned back, her eyes were bright, glassy. “I’ve known,” she said quietly. “For longer than I want to admit. I told myself it was just… leftover protectiveness. That I was confusing care with something else. But I’d catch myself watching you when you weren’t looking. The way your shoulders filled out. The way you smile now, soft and slow, like you’re remembering something good. I’d lie awake wondering what it would feel like if you looked at me the way I sometimes caught you looking at me. And then I’d hate myself for even thinking it.”

She reached out, fingertips brushing his cheek. “I never believed I had the right to feel it. You were mine to protect. Not… this.”

Alex caught her hand, pressed it to his face. “Then let me protect you for once.”

Her breath hitched.

He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. She didn’t.

Their first kiss was tentative, almost careful—like neither of them trusted themselves to be gentle enough. His lips brushed hers, soft, testing. She sighed against his mouth, a small, broken sound, and then she kissed him back. Deeper. Hungrier. Like she’d been starving for years.

They shifted without breaking apart. His hands found her waist, fingers splaying across the soft cotton of her hoodie, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath. She let him guide her backward until her shoulders met the quilt. He followed, never letting their mouths separate, until he was braced over her, one knee between her thighs, the other leg stretched along hers.

Her hands cradled his face, thumbs stroking the sharp line of his jaw. The kiss turned slower, wetter, tongues sliding together in a rhythm that felt both brand-new and inevitable. She tasted like mint and home.

Alex broke the kiss only to trail his lips along her jaw, down the column of her throat. She arched beneath him, a soft whimper escaping when he sucked gently at the pulse point just below her ear. He moved lower, kissing the delicate ridge of her collarbone, then the slope of her shoulder where her hoodie had slipped aside.

“Mia,” he breathed against her skin. “Can I…?”

She nodded, fingers threading into his hair. “Please.”

He slid his hands under the hem of her hoodie, palms gliding up the smooth plane of her stomach. She shivered at the contact. Slowly, reverently, he pushed the fabric higher, exposing the gentle swell of her breasts, the dark peaks already tight with want. He paused, just looking, drinking in the sight of her laid out beneath him—flushed, breathing hard, eyes half-lidded and trusting.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

Then he lowered his head and kissed the upper curve of one breast, soft open-mouthed kisses that made her gasp. He circled the nipple with his tongue, teasing, before drawing it into his mouth. Gentle suction. A slow, rolling flick. Mia’s back bowed, fingers tightening in his hair as a low moan spilled from her throat.

“Alex…”

He moved to the other breast, giving it the same slow worship, savoring every hitch in her breathing, every quiet whimper. Her hips rocked up instinctively, seeking friction. He pressed his thigh between her legs, letting her grind against him while he sucked harder, tongue laving the sensitive tip until she was trembling.

She tugged him back up, desperate for his mouth again. They kissed messily now, all teeth and tongue and shared breath. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. He could feel how wet she was through her leggings, how ready.

“I need you,” she whispered against his lips. “Inside me. Please.”

He nodded, heart pounding. They fumbled together—her hoodie coming off completely, his shirt following. Her hands roamed his chest, nails scraping lightly down his back. He peeled her leggings and underwear down in one slow drag, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered—her hip bones, the soft dip of her belly, the inside of her thigh.

When she was bare beneath him, he paused again, just to look. To memorize. She reached for him, guiding his hand between her legs. He groaned at how slick she was, how swollen. He circled her clit with careful strokes, watching her face, learning every flutter of her lashes, every quiet gasp.

“More,” she breathed. “I want you.”

He shed the rest of his clothes, then settled between her thighs. Their eyes locked as he notched himself at her entrance. She lifted her hips, welcoming him. He pushed in slowly, inch by careful inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

They both stilled, breathing hard.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down until his face was pressed to the valley between her breasts. He kissed the skin there, tasting salt and warmth, while she held him close, fingers carding through his hair like she used to when he was little and scared.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured, voice thick. “I’ve always got you.”

He began to move—slow, deep rolls of his hips that made her gasp against his temple. She rocked up to meet him, matching his rhythm, bodies finding a familiar cadence that felt both forbidden and right. The bed creaked softly beneath them, the same quiet complaint it had made years ago when she’d climbed in to comfort him after nightmares.

He thrust harder, deeper. Her nails dug into his shoulders. She whispered his name like a prayer, like a plea. He answered with low groans, burying his face in her neck as the pleasure built, sharp and overwhelming.

She came first—sudden, shuddering, a broken cry muffled against his shoulder. Her walls clenched around him, pulling him under. He followed seconds later, hips stuttering as he spilled inside her, wave after wave of release.

They stayed locked together for long minutes, breathing in tandem. She stroked his back in slow circles, the way she used to soothe him to sleep. He pressed soft kisses to her collarbone, her throat, her jaw.

Eventually, he lifted his head, looking into her eyes. There were tears there, but she was smiling—small, shaky, real.

“I love you,” he said.

She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “I love you too. Always have.”

The rain kept falling outside, steady and gentle. Inside, they held each other in the same bed where so many promises had been made. And for the first time, they let themselves believe that some promises were meant to be broken—and remade into something deeper.