Chapter 21
We didn’t speak after that. I simply laid on my side, feeling his warm fingertips trace up and down the scar on my spine.
I’m not sure how long I forced myself to stay awake, but I drifted off before his hand stopped moving. For the first time since that night on the couch when we were younger, I slept peacefully.
No thoughts of waking up to Michael.
No thoughts of the fight waiting for me when I did.
No nightmares of the accident—fleeting fragments, but never the full memory.
I don’t blame what happened between us eight years ago on my fear of telling Keo about the abuse. It’s the stigma, the embarrassment that it “couldn’t happen to a man,” that keeps me silent.
Telling him about the accident would open more questions, inevitably circling back to my relationship over the past six years.
Maybe I should follow his lead and actually seek therapy.
I’m a goddamn mess. But these past hours—the calm, the closeness—have been the most serene I’ve felt in a long time. I don’t want to wake up, but as light spills through the curtains, I know I have to.
I squeeze my eyes tight before slowly peeling them open, letting out a half-groan, half-sigh. It’s warm, the bed so comfortable it begs me to stay.
Or maybe it isn’t the mattress at all. Maybe it’s the way I’m held possessively. I freeze completely, unwilling to move.
I can see the arm that’s inked from wrist to chest in a tribal design. He’s part Polynesian, and I know that each section carries meaning, though I’m not entirely sure what each one signifies. One consistent motif stands out though: Fire.
He’s always had a strange obsession with it. Ironic, considering he became a firefighter.
I’ve wanted to study the ink more closely, and I could… if it weren’t for the way he has me held.
One arm is under mine, stretching across my chest with his hand resting lightly at my throat. The other is tucked beneath me, wrapped around my midsection. His body is flush against my back, one knee positioned snugly between my thighs.
The hand at my neck alone is enough to make me painfully hard—but it’s the control he exerts in this position that really does it.
I haven’t breathed. Maybe I haven’t even blinked.
A soft snore brushes the back of my head, barely audible. His breath glides over the nape of my neck, and I bite down hard on my bottom lip.
Don’t wiggle your hips, Ayden. Don’t…
It’s like my brain said, “Fuck you, I’ll do what I want,” and I do the exact opposite. I rub against him, and I’m not sure if I’m grateful I don’t feel anything press against my ass or not.
Probably for the best. The thought of his cock should not be at the forefront of my mind.
Or how it would feel. Or taste.
A whimper escapes my throat, though I’m blaming it strictly on being thirsty.
For your former stepbrother.
Oh, fuck off, brain.
I take a deep breath, hold it, shift my leg, softly grab his hand, and literally roll out of bed. I land gracefully on all fours, careful not to thump too loudly.
Peeking over the edge of the bed, just enough to see Keoni still asleep, I release the air slowly and as quietly as possible. My eyes betray me as I cautiously take in every inch of his… clothed body. No wonder I couldn’t feel anything—he’s still in his jeans.
I stand, inching toward the door and grabbing my shirt from the night before. One last glance over my shoulder brings a pang of regret, then I step out. Pulling the shirt on in the hallway, I turn toward the kitchen, where Dom and Kali sit at the table.
Honestly, this couldn’t be a better situation. I don’t have to face the awkwardness of waking up in Keoni’s arms. We have guests, so we won’t have the ability to talk about it.
“Good morning, Ayden,” Kali says with a smile, lifting her glass of water at me. “Couldn’t find the coffee.”
Shit. “Sorry about that. We are all out.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she hums.
Dom grunts. “That couch sucked, and not waking up to coffee sucks more.”
“You could’ve gone home, but you loooove us and wanted to make sure we didn’t die.”
He rolls his eyes before looking at me. “Pierce up yet? We can all pile into the back of his truck, and he can drop us off at our cars.”
I shake my head. “How about Brittany and Taylor?”
He mirrors my head shake. “But they’re stirring. Pretty sure one of them farted.”
Kali throws her head back with mirth.
This doesn’t feel like Keoni’s coworkers in our cabin—it feels more like a family. It was obvious last night, but even more so now. I like this… and I can’t believe how stupid I was not to ask for help to get away from Michael sooner so I could have this.
Sapphire Valley is starting to feel more like home than ever, and I hope I can stay here until the day I die.
Footsteps approach from behind, and I swivel to see Keoni rubbing the back of his neck, striding toward me.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice deeper than usual. Yummy.
“Morning. You’re taking us to our cars.” Dom doesn’t ask—he demands it, which has Kali starting up her laughter again.
Keo steps up beside me, letting out a low grunt. “I’m not on the clock, no ordering me around in my own home. I could’ve used a few more hours of sleep.”
“Good quality air mattress?” Kali asks. “I can’t stand those. I’d rather camp outside on the grass.”
“Sure, we can blame that.” He chuckles, and I catch his gaze flick to mine. “It gave me the best sleep I’ve ever had.”
Heart in dick. Immediately.
After dragging Brittany and Taylor out of bed, Keoni drove them back to their cars at the station. I told him I’d stay behind to clean up the mess outside. He argued for a moment, telling me to wait for him, but I didn’t back down—what else am I going to do while I wait?
I’m already anxious as hell, considering it’s obvious he knows how we slept last night. All my brain can do is remind me that I wiggled my ass against him to see if he had morning wood.
Ugh, Ayden.
An hour passes before he steps back through the door, two cups of coffee in hand.
Our eyes meet, and the moment I smile, he does too.
Goddamn it. A sense of euphoria rushes over me, and flutters of excitement swirl in my stomach. I’ve also noticed my heart races the same now as it had when we were living together as stepbrothers anytime I saw him.
I’m crushing so fucking hard.
He moves across the living room to the dining table that separates us, and sits. Setting my coffee cup down, he gestures to the seat across from him.
I take it without argument, knowing exactly where this is going.
He wants to talk.
Once he takes a sip, he says, “Talk to me about the accident. Slowly.” He tilts his head, loose strands of hair falling to the side. “And don’t worry about what I think. I don’t matter.”
I take a drink of my own coffee and sigh through my nose.
“It happened last year, around Christmas. We’d just seen a movie, and I swore I’d had only one drink.” I focus on keeping my gaze on his. “It was bad. My memory of the entire day is jumbled and distorted. I don’t even remember getting in the car.”
When I pause, he prompts, “You said something about not driving, or not normally doing it?”
My chest tightens. As I feared it would, it’s leaning into my relationship with Michael. That’s going to take a lot more coffee and courage I don’t have right now to talk about.
“I never liked driving in San Fran, so I rarely did it. I’m not entirely sure why I was going so fast. Apparently, I took us off the road right into a pole.”
“Fuck, Ayden.”
I wince and take another sip.
“At least I didn’t kill anyone—”
“No. Thank whoever the fuck I have to that you survived.” He exhales heavily, chest falling with the sigh. “Your ex?”
“He had a few scrapes and bruises but otherwise was uninjured. It’s possible I made a last-second move to take the brunt of the impact…
” I don’t know if that’s true, but judging from my injuries and Dr. Yadav’s comments, only one side of the car took the hit.
As sad as it sounds—and I won’t say it aloud—I wish I’d made a less selfish decision and turned the car so Michael would have been hurt instead…
“You don’t remember anything, then?”
I shake my head. “I get fragments here and there; nightmares sometimes, but it’s like a scrambled puzzle I can’t put together.
Nothing makes sense—the perspective is always outside my body.
I’ve seen myself being carried into the car, others stepping into it.
I see myself in the passenger seat, out of control.
” I rest my elbow on the table and press my eye into the ball of my palm.
“I barely remember the damn movie, Keo. I fucked up so badly, I nearly lost my job. Drinking and driving? I was lucky I had help. Otherwise, having my license suspended for two years would have been the least of my problems.”
“Sunshine, look at me.”
Before lifting my gaze to meet his, I rub my face in frustration.
All I see there is understanding. There’s no hint of judgement, anger, or disappointment.
“It’s alright.”
I’m not entirely sure why, but those simple words fill me with warmth.
He smiles at me, his full five o’clock shadow doing nothing to hide the dimple on his right cheek. “What matters is that you’re alive.”
When he reaches across the table, I pause for a moment, then place my hand in his. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Thanks… for listening.”
His grip on me is just as possessive feeling as it was in bed earlier. “I’m pretty damn good at it, you know… listening. That being said, I expect you to tell me more, since we are closely approaching the thirty days.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Slow and steady.”
He hums. “Very slow. Turtle pace.”
“I was always a slow runner.”
I don’t bring attention to the fact his thumb is rubbing against the back of my hand.
“You should join me on my morning jogs.” He leans against his elbow while bringing his coffee to his lips. His murmur into the mug is too low for me to hear, but I think he says something about stamina.
“Hmm?”
“Nothing. Do you want to go out tonight?”
Well, that was a shift. “Where?”
“I don’t know. Dinner?” My fucking face heats. “We’ve eaten in every night I’m off, and I’m no cook, so let me treat you.”
I’m surprised my swallow isn’t audible.
“It’s nothing, really. Look at it as a thank you. For cleaning out the master bedroom, cooking for us, and, you know, keeping the cat alive.”
As if on cue, Clover meows.
“What do you say?”
I say hell fucking yes.
Even if he doesn’t classify this as a date, my heart and brain are at war with one another about the classification of said “activity.”
My smile shifts from small to completely rakish. “Sounds like fun. Do I get to pick?”
He barks out a laugh. “Not a chance. I’ve already got a place in mind.”
The way my heart flips scares me. I can’t get my hopes up. We’re just friends. Just… former stepbrothers.
But that little voice in my head reminds me: no friend—or stepbrother—would hold me the way he did this morning. No one ever has. And I want to cling to the hope that maybe my life can get better. That it can have more meaning with him in it.
Age 16
I’m far sadder about this day than I thought I would be.
We just had the most wonderful summer, and I’ll admit—even though I spent it as Keoni’s stepbrother, it will go down as some of the greatest moments of my life.
From white water rafting to a cross-country road trip, to spending a few days in Arizona to see where he’d be going to school—I’ve had the time of my life.
Stolen glances. Making sure we always sat beside one another. Playing footsies under tables. All things that feel wrong, considering we’re related by marriage. Things I shouldn’t want. But I can’t help that I do.
And now, on August fifteenth, we’re standing together as a family at the airport, saying goodbye. He’s off to college, and I’m heartbroken.
Keo just finished hugging Alysa, who’s practically glowing with excitement. Leilani is happy-crying into our dad’s shoulder. And me? I’m holding onto the fragile, impossible hope that he’ll suddenly change his mind and stay.
Stay with us.
Stay with me.
When he turns after releasing my sister, his stride toward me isn’t hesitant. There’s a soft glimmer of sadness in his amber eyes—one that has always reminded me of strength and courage, just like his name.
I don’t trust my voice, so I say nothing.
He wraps his arms around my head and pulls me into his chest. I return the embrace instantly, almost clingy-like.
This isn’t the one-armed hug he gave my sister, or the brief squeeze he gave my dad.
This one is closer to the one he gave his mom—full, heavy, desperate.
And when he exhales against me, I hope it’s because he’s hurting just as much about leaving.
“I’ll come back for the holidays,” he murmurs, soft enough that I know no one else hears. “Keep your grades up—and don’t let your sister influence you into more troublemaking.”
A shaky laugh escapes me, and I give him one last squeeze before we both let go.
I’m proud of myself for not crying, though the ache in my chest tells me the tears will come later.
“See you soon…” He pauses, like he’s weighing every word. “Ayden.”
Nodding, I step back. “Bye, Keo.”
As my sister moves to my side, we all turn toward the parking lot, away from the terminal.
My phone buzzes in my pocket no more than a few minutes later. When I pull it out, my heart skips—there’s already a text from Keo.
Keo
Download Minecraft.
Why?
Just do it