Chapter 1
ONE
JESSE
On the outside, the house looks like one of those perfect suburban homes you see on the covers of magazines, or in TV commercials.
Not too small or too big, but just right, with walls the color of buttercream, a beautiful porch with pots filled with plants and flowers, and a large, nicely-trimmed garden that surrounds the exterior.
Our packed car comes to a stop in the private driveway, and I can’t help glancing at my mom in the driver seat.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” I attempt a casual tone, hoping my disbelief isn’t as obvious as I think it is.
And accept my total failure when I register the look my mom shoots me.
“Do you think I would have brought us to some stranger’s home?”
Well, I mean, we are moving into this guy’s house after only six months of dating and an elopement that made my head spin when she told me, so it wouldn’t be a complete stretch to call him a bit of a stranger.
Mom sighs, shaking her head. “Your thoughts are all over your face, Bug.” She reaches out, taking my hand and giving it a brief squeeze. “This is the right place. It’s going to be fine. Trust me.”
Of course I trust her. She’s the best person I know. Otherwise, why would I allow her to still call me Bug?
And I want her to be happy more than I’ve ever wanted anything else. I just wish I was as calm as I pretend to be about this whole thing, that there wasn’t a tiny ball of anxiety gnawing at my insides. But I squash it. For her.
“I do, mom.” I smile at her, squeezing her hand back reassuringly. And because I can’t resist teasing her, I add, “At least I’ll know who to blame if it all goes to shit.”
She chuckles, swatting my arm, and I pretend to be fatally wounded just to hear her laugh.
God knows she deserves to laugh all the damn time.
“So, now that we’ve settled this, are we supposed to wait out here or—” I haven’t even finished my sentence when the door swings open and the man of the hour steps out.
Andrew Colson—the successful businessman in his forties who apparently saw my mom at her retail job and was knocked on his ass—steps outside, smiling widely at us. Or at what he thinks is us, considering the sun is probably blinding him.
I snicker at my own lame thoughts and turn to tell Mom, but she’s clearly severely compromised, grinning like all is right in the world.
If only we didn’t know how much that isn’t true.
We exit the car and Andrew reaches us in a few quick strides.
“Hey, guys. Everything okay with the drive here?” he asks, his eyes sweeping over us before settling on my mom, slinging his arm around her shoulders.
I tune them out while she gives him the breakdown of our day so far, my eyes drawn once again to the house.
It’s beautiful, there’s no other way around it.
More beautiful than any place I’ve ever stayed in.
The late morning light bounces off its cream and off-white tones, to the point it’s basically shining.
It feels warm and welcoming. There’s even a window cracked open on the second floor, letting out the corner of a curtain that swishes in the breeze.
How lovely, I think as I feel the first genuine smile of the day pull at the corners of my lips.
I tune back in to the conversation, just in time to catch the end of it.
“You’ll have to excuse my son. Roman was caught up in something upstairs, otherwise he would have come to welcome you himself,” Andrew says easily, and yet something in the way he says it makes me think that it’s complete bullshit.
“Let’s get both of you in, I’m sure you must be tired.
And we’ll unload the car later,” he finishes, ushering us towards the door, and our new life.
Alright then.
Home sweet home, I guess.
***
It’s a few hours later when I realize that my new stepbrother is probably never going to show his face.
A few hours of touring the whole house—apart from one of the bedrooms upstairs with suspiciously loud rock/metal music that we all pretend not to hear—and of hanging out in the large living room, watching my mom and Andrew make moony eyes at each other and wishing I could be anywhere else but here.
There’s only so much I can stare at my cup of tea without going cross-eyed, or nod along and pretend I’m actually listening to the conversation they’re having.
Thankfully, Mom, being the smart woman that she is, takes me out of my misery.
“Hey, Jesse? Why don’t you go get your bags from the backseat and take them to your bedroom upstairs?”
Andrew tears his gaze away from her long enough to nod at me encouragingly. “Yes, Jesse, please. Make yourself at home.”
I smile at both of them, feeling my cheeks already hurting with all the smiling I’ve been throwing around today, and leave to take everything to my bedroom.
The smile slowly slips off when the door of my room closes behind me. My back hits the dark wood and my eyes slip shut as I sigh in relief.
I love being alone, always have. Being able to shed all layers and just be myself. Not that I’m not myself when I’m smiling and being all cheerful. I am. But sometimes, it simply feels good to drop it all and just be.
Opening my eyes again, I take in the room that’s going to be mine from now on, at least until I’m through with senior year and high school.
It’s simple, but quite spacious—pale-blue walls, a queen-sized bed, a large closet and dresser, a desk and chair, and plenty of room to move around. It’s right next to Roman’s room, with the bathroom we’re going to share located down the hall.
I get to work, opening all my bags and a couple of boxes filled with my stuff, and start putting everything away.
The closet and dresser prove to have just enough room for all my clothes, while the drawers under the desk fit all my school things.
I’m in the middle of piling a few books on the desk when my attention is drawn to the wall currently vibrating from the music on the other side.
The deep bass from Roman’s room bleeds into my own and I barely stop myself from fidgeting with the hem of my T-shirt, not knowing what the hell I’m supposed to do.
Should I go introduce myself?
Will it be rude if I don’t?
Ruder than him not showing up at all? I don’t think so, I scoff internally.
And yet, I can’t just pretend he’s not in there and that I’m not in here when we’ll be living together for the foreseeable future.
Maybe I should go to him and break the ice.
I groan out loud. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t such a people-pleaser.
Decision tentatively made, I head over to Roman’s door, where I proceed to stare at it for what feels like an eternity, wondering if he’ll even hear me if I knock with how loud the music is.
Swallowing thickly, I steel myself, trying to shake off my sudden nerves, and raise my hand to knock.
Only to have the door swing open with a force that almost makes me stagger back.
And I would have staggered back if it weren’t for the strong hand that shoots out and wraps around my bicep, keeping me steady.
My heart is beating somewhere in my throat, my pulse jumping like crazy, as my eyes travel up the black T-shirt that covers a tight chest and broad shoulders, and meet the dark glare of my new stepbrother.
Roman Colson.