Chapter 7
I’m up before the sun rises, grateful my stepbrother isn’t in the living room when I walk out of the bedroom.
This has to be karma coming for me. How the hell does this even happen? I expected to see him at the funeral, but when I screwed up and showed up late, I figured that concern was long gone.
And now, all of a sudden, he’s adamant about staying here?
Last night, he knocked on my door, wanting to talk, but I ignored him like some pissy teenager. I shoved in my earbuds and pretended I was anywhere but here. It wasn’t until the ceiling fan started rattling that I took them out and listened to him pacing around upstairs.
There are three bedrooms: mine, the master across the hall, and the loft upstairs. Thank god he didn’t take the room right next to mine—I haven’t stepped foot in there for a reason. Glad he read the room, for once.
A soft meow nearly gives me away as I’m creeping out of the front door. No other sounds accompany it, so I assume Ayden is still asleep.
Clover pads down the last few steps to me, and I kneel to scratch her favorite spot before standing again. I’d already filled her bowl with the remaining cat food in the pantry when I woke up. I’ll need to get more—plus treats.
I glance up at the loft and pause briefly before opening the front door and stepping into the brisk morning air.
Jogging down the steps, I break into a sprint, heading south.
Sapphire Valley is a little over four miles around, and while I won’t take on the whole loop today, my goal is to start running it on the four days I’m off from work.
Yesterday, I met the captain at my station, along with my new team. Everyone seemed nice—and surprisingly young. Maybe that’s why it stuck out to me; this town is small, and people my age usually chase the big city.
It’s the reason I wasn’t home, and the first time I’d been away from the cabin since the funeral.
What a surprise to come back to…
The first mile comes easily, sweat slicking my bare chest as the sun rises over the surrounding mountains.
At the south point, I pass a cabin under renovation, piles of materials still scattered around.
Strange, the amount of metal they’re working into it—but not my place to judge someone’s design choices.
Without lingering too long, I turn back up toward Wildhart.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. I could kick him out, tell him he doesn’t belong here. Maybe years ago he did, but not now. I don’t care that it’s his father’s place—he didn’t come when it mattered.
And now, suddenly, he wants to be here when they aren’t?
My anger stops me mid-run, and I pace from the lake’s edge, back toward the road.
Ungrateful brat.
Don’t forget what you did to said brat…
I clench my hand into a fist, staring at a tree I’d love to punch—but that would be idiotic. Breaking my hand the day before I’m supposed to start work is the last thing I need.
No, scratch that. The last thing I want is to face my stepbrother and this conversation.
What pisses me off is even his sister—who lives in another fucking country—made the effort to come to see her dad and my mom.
To see me…
Ayden lives just a two-hour flight away and couldn’t manage a once-a-year visit. Now, he shows up out of nowhere and declares he’s staying in the one place that was sacred to them? It feels so goddamn wrong.
The fucked-up part is I can already hear my mom’s voice, telling me to hear him out. The same thing she said every single year.
“Still no Ayden?” I hate that I ask every Christmas, and get the same response.
“Maybe next year.”
“What the fuck is his problem, Alysa?” I know her dad doesn’t like cussing in his house, but come on, his own son won’t even spend the holiday with him.
With us.
With me.
My stepsister groans. “It’s not my place to air his dirty laundry.”
“Whatever… I shouldn’t even be surprised.”
“Keoni…”
I’m out of the cabin before she can even try to console me. If he doesn’t want to be here, then fine. Who am I, anyway? No one. Just the family he’s turned into a second thought in his own life.
No one… a fucking no one.
I’m convinced it’s because of what happened at his graduation party.
He’s been avoiding me ever since, and what a childish move that is.
It’s been eight years—how could something like that keep him from spending time with his family?
Maybe for a little while, sure. But by now?
We could’ve gotten past it. Talked about it like the adults we are.
I’ve moved on…
Pfft, fucking liar.
My head tilts back, body rigid, as I take a deep breath. The air is cool and sharp, filling my lungs that give me the steadiness I need.
I’ve got to end this, have this conversation and send him on to California, or simply, away from the cabin. Dealing with my own demons is enough; with him added into the mix, I might actually lose my mind.
Turning from the lake, I head back toward Wildhart. Within minutes, I’m there, glancing at my watch—only half an hour gone. Odds are, he’s still asleep.
I climb the steps, and reach for the door when the smell of coffee hits me.
Wrong again.
My chest tightens as I brace myself to toss out my stepbrother. It feels like a cold, asshole thing to do, but it’s no more than what he’s done to his family, time and time again.
“Get off the table!” The moment the door cracks open, his voice hits my ears. “Clover, what the actual hell, cat? Do you have no manners?”
She meows loudly in protest.
I watch with curiosity as he swats at the cat perched on the wooden dining table, just like she did with his dad. She simply stares back at him. He’ll learn soon enough that she is the real ruler here—no human can tell her what to do.
Wait.
No, he won’t learn that. He’s going to leave.
Stepping inside, I close the door loud enough to draw his attention. Sure enough, his gaze lifts to mine. His short brown hair is a little frazzled, and his hazel eyes—set beneath dark, expressive brows—are just a shade lighter than his sister’s.
“Hey,” he murmurs, slowly placing down the kitchen towel.
I haven’t seen Ayden, not even in photos, since he was seventeen. I don’t scroll social media much, but I do have a presence there, and I blocked him so I wouldn’t come across him, or he I. If he was going to ignore me, then I was going to ignore him.
I know it’s juvenile, but that reasoning is easier to explain than the actual one. It was already torture, living with those feelings. Seeing him would’ve just shoved the knife deeper and finished me off.
He’s grown up, but that’s to be expected after so many years.
His face is angular, chiseled without being too harsh around the edges of his jawline.
Tall, but still shorter than my six-and-a-half-foot frame.
Although he’s muscular, he’s not built like a truck, like I am.
He’s more of a sports car sort of build, if that makes sense.
Lean without being skinny. Built without being stocky.
Pretty, but not girly. Symmetrical, and…
Another ‘P’ word comes to mind but, I stifle the thought.
“Hi.”
I pinch off my sneakers with my toes and kick them to the side.
The cabin doesn’t have a mudroom, but the entryway has racks and ceramic tile underfoot for easy cleaning.
My stepdad always said it worked better in the snow, which is why they switched it out.
The tiles are heated, and when the system’s off, they stay cool—a relief right now with the heat.
“Morning run?” He tries again to swat at Clover, but she just swipes back.
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
“I don’t know,” he says through a laugh. One hand comes to his hip, the other gesturing up and down his clothed torso. “All the sweat. Lack of shirt…” I watch his Adam’s apple bob as his eyes venture down. “Basketball shorts.”
I clear my throat. “Very observant.”
“Thanks… You know I’ve always been that way.”
His tone isn’t deep but more so than it was as a teen. I absolutely hate how I remember everything about him from the last time I saw him.
Hasn’t it been long enough?
“Anyway, I don’t know if you drink coffee, but it wasn’t expired, so I made us a pot.
I’m lucky I knew how to use one of these things.
I’ve got a single cup maker back in San Francisco.
” He turns his back to me and strolls over to the counter where the old machine is brewing up the Maui Mokka his dad was conscious enough to always get for my mom.
“I made enough for two cups in the event you’d want one. Do you take it with milk?”
I slowly move through the living room.
“Take a guess.”
A nervous laugh has his shoulders jumping. “Probably not.” He turns and leans against the counter, releasing a sigh heavy with all sorts of remorse. His arms cross over his chest, tugging at his shirt. “I’m sorry.”
I know this feeling too well, especially lately. Guilt. It’s a suction right at the epicenter of my sternum; a hollow, empty sensation that swallows me entirely. Swiftly and without remorse for how it leaves me in its aftermath.
Angry.
Spiteful.
Fucking alone.
“You can’t stay here, Ayden.”
The hurt that crosses his face is quickly masked by a smile. “Come on, you can’t kick me out.” I’m about to argue that I can, when he continues, “Technically, I own half of this property.”
Only half? To be honest, I was ready for him to tell me that Grant had signed over the entire cabin to him and Alysa.
Truthfully, I’d hoped they wouldn’t care about this place and would just leave it to me.
I’d planned to ask my stepsister when I spoke to her again, but…
shit, this actually complicates things a bit more.
“Fine. I’ll stay here half the year and you can stay the other half—”
“Come on, Keo.”
I swallow hard, feeling my pulse spike. That damn nickname.
“I… didn’t want to stay away,” he continues, his voice dropping along with his head. “I had no choice.”
“No? Why?” I put my hands onto my hips. “Tell me, and I’ll determine if you did or didn’t have a choice.”
“Wow, when did you become such a jerk?”
I roll my eyes but say nothing. Just keep my gaze on him until he flashes that fake smile. Does he think I’m stupid and can’t see right through it? What the hell is he playing at?
“School. Work. Boyfriend. You know, all the standard things that keep someone busy.”
I’m not entirely sure why I look around. I know no one else is here with us—unless he snuck someone in overnight, but I would’ve heard them. These walls aren’t thick in the slightest, you aren’t even safe farting in the bathroom with the door closed.
“I hope you don’t plan to invite your boyfriend to stay with you.” For more than one reason, that will not be happening.
He releases a huff. “Ex, and no. I’m here to try and get my life back in order.”
That gives me pause. “Back in order? What do—”
“Anyway, I won’t be much of a burden, and you can just ignore me.”
Yeah fucking right.
“Do you even have a car?” Why am I getting so off track now. I was confident in myself that I’d get him out of this house. “It’s miles from here to town. I can’t play chauffeur.”
He waves his hand as if dismissing me, the smile still disingenuous. “All good. I’ve got money, and I’ll just order an Uber. They come out this far, right?” He laughs at himself. “Of course they do. I won’t be a bother. Promise. Now, do you want—”
“Stop talking.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“—to catch up…”
I shut my eyes, wondering exactly what I’m going to do. This isn’t good.
Obviously. Why? Because my heart can’t take it.
Even after eight shitty years, I haven’t stopped thinking about him. And now he’s going to be in the same goddamn cabin with me—less than a thousand square feet around us.
I’m so fucked… or he is. Or maybe we both are. Who goddamn knows.