Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Kenzie the cockblocker
REED
In a million years, I never thought my sister would help me get close to Lila. If anything, it’d be the opposite. That’s how it’s always been.
Yet here she is, excitedly dragging us out to dinner and giving me a chance to zoom in on my target.
Thanks, little sis. Perhaps I misjudged you.
Doubtful, though. She’s probably up to something.
It’ll be interesting to see what our dynamic will be like as a trio. We have a complicated history, putting it mildly.
When we were young, Lila was an awkward and annoying presence in my life, much like Kenzie was. Show me one guy who enjoys interacting with his little sister and her friends, and I’ll show you someone who’s full of shit. Spoiler, it’ll be the same guy.
Lila was always at our house, following Kenzie like a lost puppy dog. I figured she didn’t like being at her own home, but I didn’t care to know why.
I always detested her friendship with Kenzie, never quite figuring out why it irked me. There was just something I couldn’t put my finger on. An unsettling twitch in my gut. Was it jealousy or something else? Instead of handling it like an adult, I was an asshole to both of them.
Looking back, I wonder if I was trying to protect Lila in my own stupid way.
She always seemed so vulnerable, and I didn’t want her to suffer like I did growing up in that house.
Especially knowing she had a rough home life of her own.
Perhaps I was pushing her away to spare her the toxicity that brewed in our family.
I don’t know.
Guess it doesn’t matter much now. We’ve changed a lot over the years. And given my current situation, I can't avoid her any longer.
And honestly, I don’t want to.
Truth be told, I haven’t wanted to steer clear for a long, long time.
I can pinpoint the moment it all changed with a sharpshooter’s accuracy. It was the very day I returned home after graduating from college. What an unexpected welcome home that turned out to be.
Reed - Age 24
After I pull into the driveway, I cut the ignition and sit for a long few seconds. My eyes fix on the closed garage door as if it holds some magical power that will compel me to get out of the car.
Part of me wants to drive away and never return. Technically, it’s most of me, not just a part.
For the last few years, I’ve used college as my excuse to avoid this place. And these people.
My family.
Well, the closest thing I have to a family. I was adopted when I was four. Right before my adopted mother found out she was pregnant. I went from being the child they couldn’t conceive but always wanted to being the extra mouth to feed pretty damn fast.
While it wasn’t an especially tragic childhood, we never interacted the way I imagined a family should. In this house, everything has always felt transactional, for lack of a better word.
I can only imagine how different things would be if they hadn’t adopted me. Would the void inside me still be this cavernous?
No point in wondering about that since I can’t turn back time.
Now that I’ve graduated and finished my internship, I couldn’t come up with a good enough reason to stay away forever.
So I came home.
In the movies, coming home always seems like this life-changing experience.
We’ve all seen those films where the main character is down on their luck, so they go back to their roots, returning home.
Naturally, that fixes everything. By the time they leave their family home, they’re whole-hearted and recharged.
Because at home, they simply fit. No effort required.
You don’t need to impress anyone. There’s no artifice.
They love you exactly like you are, faults and all.
Because in fiction, there’s an unwritten rule that family equals belonging and unconditional love. It’s like slipping into the perfect-sized shoe with just the right amount of cushion and support.
Real life—at least mine—isn’t anywhere near that fantasy.
For me, it’s like shoving the wrong key into a rusty lock and trying to force my way inside. And when I do, it’s judgment, toxicity, and veiled hostility that greet me.
Instinctively, my hand moves to the car key that’s still stuck in the ignition. I’m vibrating with the urge to start it back up and shift into reverse.
But I promised Dad I’d come home for a few months.
He didn’t sound good the last time we spoke.
As if my thoughts conjured him into existence, the garage door rolls up, revealing him standing there with his hands on his hips. He ducks under the still-opening door and heads my way.
Despite wanting to flee, I grin back at him. And it’s mostly a natural response. Of all the people who live in this house, he’s the least harmful to my psyche.
As soon as I open the car door and rise to my feet, he’s there. Not with his arms out for a warm embrace. We don’t hug in this family. Instead, he’s got his hand extended for a shake.
I glance down, then take it begrudgingly. “Hi, Dad.”
“Welcome home, Reed. We’ve missed you.”
I almost believe him. However, the we part of the sentence doesn’t ring true.
He bends to peer into the back seat. “How much do you have to bring in? Should I get the girls to help?”
“Girls? Did you have another daughter while I was away?”
“Lila is sleeping over this weekend. She might as well live here.” He rolls his eyes. “At least she’s a nice kid.”
Ah yes. I should’ve known. Lila is my sister’s best friend and barnacle.
I pop the trunk. “I don’t need any help. It’s not that much. Just a few boxes that I’ll stash in the garage for now. And one suitcase I’ll take to my room. I can get it all on my own. Why don’t you go inside and get out of the heat?”
He waves me off with a huff. “I might be old, but I can still roll a suitcase or carry a box fifteen feet.”
“Don’t expect me to rub your back later,” my mother calls.
I whip my head around to see her standing in the doorway that connects the garage to the house. She’s got a kitchen towel slung over her shoulder.
And she looks pissed.
As expected.
“Hey, Mom.”
She offers me a look that could probably pass for a smile in some other dimension.
“Hi, son. Glad you’re home.” Her fake kind-adjacent expression shifts back into her typical sour puss in a heartbeat.
“You’re late. Dinner’s almost ready.” Without waiting for a response, she turns on her heel and storms back inside.
From the corner of my eye, I see my dad’s shoulders slump and head fall. A frustrated growl escapes him. “She’s in a mood.”
“Some things never change,” I mumble, getting a grin out of the old man.
As quickly as possible, I race through the house and drag my suitcase upstairs to my room. I don’t need to give Mom more ammunition to be pissed at me. And telling her I was late because I didn’t want to come probably won’t earn me any brownie points.
Or cookie points, judging by the smell. Guess she’s been baking. Mom’s cookies are her only redeemable quality. And I don’t care if that makes me an asshole. It’s the fucking truth.
As I trudge down the stairs, the scent of vanilla and sugar still fills the air. But it’s masked with the savory aroma of whatever we’re having for dinner.
When I hit the edge of the living room, my legs bring me to an abrupt stop at the dick-twitching sight before me.
Bare feet with sexy as fuck red toenail polish. A silver bracelet sparkling around one ankle. Soft ivory skin that’s been kissed by the sun.
I take another step so I can see the full woman while praying to any god who’ll listen that this isn’t my adopted sister I’m instantly drooling over.
A quick scan of shape and size tells me it isn’t Kenzie. Thank fuck. So I allow myself the pleasure of drinking her up.
Whoever she is, she’s sitting on the carpet with her back against the couch, flipping through a magazine. Her damp hair rests on one shoulder, chestnut brown with gold streaks. A black tank top with pink bra straps peeking out on both sides.
I blink twice, hoping the vision doesn’t disappear.
When she doesn’t turn to vapor before me, I let my eyes drift lower.
Jean shorts with cutoff fringe sit atop thick thighs. I’m hit with an instant desire to yank that denim down and bury my face between those legs.
Reluctantly, I pull my focus off her body and take the few steps forward to see her face. I need to know who this goddess is and why she’s in my house.
My movement must draw her notice. She sets down the magazine on her lap, covering up those heavenly thighs. Pity.
She takes her glasses off, tucking them on top of her head, and we finally meet eyes.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
No way. Absolutely no fucking way.
Trying to mask my reaction, I ask, “Lila, is that you?”
She smiles at me, and fucking hell, it’s like a warm surge of sunlight is poured directly into my soul.
“Hey, Reed. Welcome home!” She jumps up, abandoning the magazine to bound over to me. “Give me a hug.”
She doesn’t give me a choice before flinging herself against me, which is for the best since I’m cast in stone and speechless. As her soft body presses against mine, I react on autopilot to reciprocate the hug.
Instantly, I regret not coming home for breaks more often over the last few years.
Sweet little Lila Kent has blossomed into a beautiful woman while I was away. Her average teenage body has filled out with the sensual curves of a woman.
Said curves are getting a wee bit too close to my rapidly stiffening cock, so I break the hug before I make it awkward.
Well, more awkward than it already is.
We stand there, inches apart, studying each other like we’ve never met. If I’m honest, it’s more than a little unsettling. My memories of the girl I once knew do not align with the voluptuous woman before me. Given our history, it feels wrong to have such a primal reaction.
She’s not a child anymore, though. That much is clear.