Soft feet padded down the hallway toward where I was lying in the rec room. I heard them pause at the door. I knew that she saw me. I knew she wanted to sit by me.
"Chuck?" her soft voice drifted across the room.
"Yeah?"
"Can I talk to you?"
"You can come in, but you have to be quiet."
She slipped onto the sofa by my feet. She stuck out a tentative hand and started rubbing my legs. "I'm sorry Chuck," she whispered.
"Kat, I don't want to talk about it. You hurt me really badly. Why did you say those mean things?"
"I wasn't thinking. I just reacted to the moment."
"Calling me an incestuous pervert for no reason really hurt. All I wanted to do was kiss you and comfort you, but you acted like I was trying to rape you. I don't think I want to be around you right now."
"Please Chuck, I just wasn't thinking. I'm sorry I said those things. I didn't mean to, they just popped out of my mouth. My boyfriend dumped me tonight and I was upset."
"That's no excuse! You know that I would never do anything to hurt you. I love you Katrina."
"What can I do to make it right? I'll do anything you say, just please don't stay mad at me. I hate it when you're mad at me. How can I fix it?"
I couldn't stay mad at her. She was in her first year of college and she was having a tough time with it. I was a senior and would receive my degree in two more months. I really did love my sister.
"I can't stay mad at you sis," I said, opening my arms and inviting her in.
She practically jumped into my arms. I was on the sofa and she spooned right into my arms. My hands were almost on her breasts but she didn't make a move away from them. She was just happy to be back in her brother's good graces. She spun around so her breasts were pressed into my chest. She kissed my cheek. Tears were running down her face.
I stuck my tongue out and licked up some of the tears. They were warm and salty. She blinked her eyes and smiled at me. I kissed her cheek. She nestled into my body and wrapped her arms around me, holding me tightly. I could feel my heart thumping on her breasts.
I was three years older than Katrina. We had a house all to ourselves, a product of divorce wars. Neither our father nor mother was willing to give up custody and visitation rights, so our father settled the argument by buying us a small house. Because of all the harsh things that were said during the divorce neither Katrina nor I wanted to stay with either of our parents. That was three years ago when Katrina was just seventeen. Usually she got along great with me but she had been distraught over being dumped and so had taken her feelings out on me.