Anti-Stepbrother

My head jerked back. “What? No.” Shit. “I mean, I don’t know.” I shook my head. I had to go. I didn’t want to talk about this any more. “Where’s Caden? I need to find my bag.”

The guy answered, but I wasn’t listening. I said a hurried, “I’ll be back,” and pushed my way through a crowd.

The kitchen was full, and so was the living room. The amount of people hanging around had already doubled. I guess what Clarissa said was true—this was the party to be at.

But as I kept searching the house, and failed to find Caden, I started to get aggravated.

I walked through the top floors and all the bedrooms, then burst through the last door and slammed it shut behind me. I didn’t care whose room it was.

Then I heard from the other side of the room: “You lost?”

A sick shiver wound down my spine. “Excuse me?”

The bathroom door opened, and a familiar shoe appeared first.

It was Caden.

I slumped to the floor in relief. I thought I was in a bedroom with a stranger, and who knew what that stranger would do. I stopped rambling. I was annoying myself.

“Sorry. I thought you were someone else. You found our room.” He stopped, staring at me, a towel in his hands. “Are you upset?”

Yes. I hugged my knees tighter. “No.”

“Bullshit.” He bent down, grabbed my hand, and pulled me to standing. He led me to the bed and sat next to me. “Something happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“No, really. Nothing happened.”

“I told you no lies with me.”

I sighed. Goddamn. He got me with that one, but the longer I sat there—feeling him next to me, hearing his concern—the more I forgot what upset me in the first place.

Melting against his side, I murmured, “Am I staying with you tonight?”

He rubbed my back. “I figured you would. That was the plan ahead of time.”

I nodded, my neck muscles so tight. I wanted to ask about us, about earlier this morning, but fear weighed my tongue down. I was a coward.

“What’s going on right now?” He leaned away a tiny bit. “Are you feeling weird about this morning?”

Finally! My hands flew up. “Are you?”

“No.”

My hands came back down. “You aren’t?”

“Why would I?”

“Because…” Yeah, why? I mocked myself. “Because sex is a big deal. Sex between friends is an even bigger deal.”

“I see.”

I glanced at him, biting my lip. The mask was back on—the one he wore when he didn’t want me to read him. I never cared when he had it on if the situation involved someone else, but this was me. This was us. I didn’t want a damned mask between us.

I asked, hoarsely, “You do?”

What did that mean?

“You regret this morning?” he asked.

My insides screamed no, but my pride kept me from spilling. An anchor dropped to my stomach, and I could only feel it sinking farther and farther. I needed to make sure. One more time. “Do you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

He frowned at me, with hooded eyes. “If I was going to regret sleeping with you, I wouldn’t have done it. I’m not one of those guys that does dumb shit in the moment. For fuck’s sake, my brother’s life is a shell of what it should be because of one of those dumb moments.”

Tears prickled at the corner of my eyes. I covered them, trying to hide the wetness, but I knew it was useless.

Caden saw everything.

Caden saw me.

So I closed my eyes instead, as if that would do anything.

“Hey.” He took my hands, gently. “What is this about? Tell me.”

His thumb went to the side of my mouth and moved down, following my lip. I realized I was frowning. I tried to laugh, but it was useless. It came out sounding like half a gurgle and half a hiccup.

Then I whispered, because it was driving me crazy, “What are we?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and me. What are we? What was this morning?”

“You want to label it?”

I held my tongue, wondering if I could go without knowing. I couldn’t. I nodded. “I guess. Is that a problem? I’ll go nuts not knowing. I just have to know about the expectations.”

“Expectations?” His eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah. Like, if I sleep here, are you going to sleep somewhere else, with someone…else?”

“No. What? No.” He shook his head. “Is that what this is all about? You think I’m going to be with some other girl tonight?”

“Well, when you put it like that, yes.” I jerked my head up and down. “Clarissa’s friend is gorgeous. She’s got all the guys eating out of her hand.”

I looked at him, wondering with a sinking heart if he’d be one of those guys. Because I couldn’t take it, not at all, not even a little bit.

“Hey.” He gentled his tone. “I thought you knew by now that I’m not that type of guy. Good God, I’m not Kevin. I don’t drink, party, and get laid. I used to. For an entire fucking year, and almost all four years of high school, that’s all I did. Then I got a phone call that my brother was in the hospital and his future was gone.”

He squeezed my hand. “No one gets it. He looks the same. He sounds the same, but he’s not. He’s dead inside. That’s what brain injuries do to you. They strip a person of what makes them them, and leave them feeling pain in ways no one can understand. Colton will never get the future he wanted. He was on student council, track captain, football captain, basketball, he was on the newspaper—that kid wanted to run for president one day. He had everything planned.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">