Chapter 11
“TEAR YOU APART” SHE WANTS REVENGE
I frown at Carolyn’s turned back as she cooks dinner.
The aroma of lobster and garlic fills the kitchen, souring my mood further.
I prefer when Minnie cooks, not only because she’s a damned good cook but also because she acknowledges my shellfish allergy and avoids using ingredients that will send me to the hospital.
I keep an EpiPen in the medicine cabinet, but I’d prefer not to use it.
I lower my gaze to my phone as I sit at the table, passing time before I sneak to the home gym. It’s been ten minutes and there’s no sign of Ryder. There’s a good chance he’s already well into his workout and won’t notice me peeping.
New notifications flood my Instagram feed. Some commenters compliment the suggestive picture I shared earlier today, while others feel the need to judge me and nitpick my body.
I shudder at the thought of my dad looking at all the faceless pictures and videos I post on social media.
The last thing I need is for my father or my fiancé to find out what I do.
They’d likely shit a brick. I only show my face on OnlyFans, and that’s just because I don’t want to put in the extra work to hide my identity.
Wearing a mask or worrying about camera angles during an entire stream is too much for me.
My phone chimes with a new text message, sucking away what little joy I had left in me.
Justin
Evening, wife.
I’m taking you out for brunch tomorrow. Please be ready for me at 11, and wear something nice.
I glare at the message.
I can’t stand when he calls me his wife. We aren’t married yet, and if my escape plan works, we never will be.
I wish I could send a picture of me flipping him off, but Dad would hear about it and scold me. He’d tell me how it wasn’t ladylike, then send me to Madam Joan for new lessons. The old hag would make it her mission to find petty reasons to swat me with her ruler.
You know what?
It may be worth it.
I tap the camera icon and angle it at the perfect spot as I snap a selfie with my middle finger held up. I send the picture to Justin and wait for the message bubbles to appear. Not even ten seconds later, they pop onto the screen as he types out his response.
How lovely. Where’s your ring?
Oh. I must’ve lost it. Oops.
That was a 10k ring, and you lost it . . .?
Sounds like a you problem.
We’ll discuss this tomorrow.
I roll my eyes, but my heart races as anxiety floods my system. Justin is close to my father, and he’ll fill Dad in on what I did. Regardless, I don’t regret sending the picture and getting snippy. The man is a jerk, through and through.
Dress shoes clack on the wooden floors right before my father walks into the kitchen with a scowl. He ignores me as he approaches Carolyn and lands a small kiss on her cheek, his hand pressed to her lower back.
“Smells good,” he says.
Carolyn turns her head with a wide smile. “Thank you, darling. I’ve been craving lobster these last few weeks.”
Dad nods and kisses her on the lips. It starts soft but quickly turns into a full-on make-out session.
Well, this is my sign to get the hell out of here so I don’t witness my father ripping my stepmother’s clothes off and blowing her back out.
I would need therapy if I had to see that.
Besides, this is a great moment for me to sneak to the gym room and watch Ryder.
Maybe even try to talk to him. About what, I don’t know.
I cringe and stand as Dad kisses Carolyn’s jaw and whispers something into her ear. She brightens at whatever he says. Probably something dirty. I rush across the large kitchen, and as soon as I pass through the entryway into the living room, Carolyn calls my name.
“Madison? Can you get Ryder’s dirty clothes from his room? Strip his bed too. I want my boy to have clean clothes and fresh linen while he’s here.”
I grimace, then recover as her words sink in. “Ryder is staying here?”
“Your father just let me know he’ll be here for a while.” Carolyn peeks at me from over her shoulder, a beaming smile brightening her features and making her look a few years younger.
Meanwhile, Dad looks seconds away from exploding in a fit of rage.
Carolyn steps out of Dad’s arms. Her dark-brown eyebrows raised on her forehead. “Well?”
“Do I have to do it?” I say. “I’m sure Ryder can take care of?—”
“He’s busy and can’t do it. You’re not doing anything and can at least help a little around here.” Carolyn sighs and turns back to the pan over the stove.
Dad eyes me with a look I know all too well. He’s seconds away from snapping, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end. At least he hasn’t mentioned Justin. Yet.
Sighing, I leave the kitchen, then go out the back door. The fall air hits me like an arctic blast, raising goosebumps on my arms. I should have put on a heavier jacket before coming out here. I rush down the balcony steps and head to the pool house.
I ease the door open and slip inside. Because it’s not attached to the house, it doesn’t have heating or cooling, but Ryder always kept a space heater here during the colder weather. He hasn’t stayed here in years, so I’m not sure where it is so I can plug it in and start it for him.
When I was younger, I didn’t understand why he chose to stay here instead of the main house, but after years of observing him and his interactions with my father, I realized Dad purposely separated my stepbrother from the rest of us.
Ryder would creep inside late in the evening to stuff his face as quickly as possible with the dinner the rest of us had earlier.
Rarely did he ever linger inside the house, and when he did, my father would drag him into his office.
I can only assume what my dad did to him.
It’s one of the many reasons why I wanted to get closer to Ryder, because I didn’t want him to feel alone.
I wanted him to know he had someone in his corner and that he wasn’t the only one my father tried to control.
It’s why I would sometimes leave snacks and a can of soda outside his bedroom door, hoping he’d know that I cared about him.
I draw the blackout curtains away from the window to light up the room.
I glance around the space that was transformed into a typical boy’s bedroom.
Ryder’s bed is tucked against the far wall.
Clothes are strewn over the floor, and a guitar and amp sit in the corner.
Band posters line the walls, giving life to the room. Some bands I know, others I don’t.
I grab the empty laundry basket near the bathroom and chuck all the dirty clothes inside it.
Even though they’re dirty, they still faintly smell like Ryder—amber and cypress, with undertones of stale cigarettes and leather.
It’s not a scent most people would enjoy, but it still brings a smile to my face as longing fills my chest. It’s messed up how much I love Ryder’s smell.
Shaking away the confusing emotions, I bend at the waist as I reach for a black T-shirt. The movement presses the butt plug against a sensitive spot inside me, and my clit throbs. I wiggle my hips to move the toy again as I stifle the groan creeping up my throat.
I cringe at myself. How stupid am I for getting turned on while inside my brother’s room? It’s weird behavior.
I straighten to my full height and jump at the dull thud as an object falls from the twisted shirt in my hands. Taking a step back, I look at the ground, then tilt my head. A black-on-black skull mask’s empty eye sockets look back at me. It’s similar to the masks I’ve seen in TikTok thirst traps.
I snatch the mask from the floor and examine it. My thumb absently strokes the skull’s black duct-tape teeth, as though touching them brings some semblance of peace.
Liquid heat pools low in my belly as I imagine Ryder wearing it while shirtless. Guilt squeezes my chest, and the image of him fades.
Jesus, Maddy. He’s your brother. Calm the fuck down.
Wood groans.
My heart leaps into my throat as I spin around. My hand and the mask fly to my chest. Ryder leans against the closed door, arms crossed over his chest and his piercing gaze on my face. I don’t know how I didn’t hear him come in.
I take a calming breath and curl my fingers tighter into the mask. “You scared me.”
Ryder’s blank expression doesn’t change. He just stares at me, not even blinking.
What is he thinking?
As frightened as I am, excitement rushes through my veins.
He’s looking at me. I’m not a ghost.
Time seems to slow, and it stretches uncomfortably from the silence.
I shift my weight and look away from him.
He doesn’t need to say a word for me to know I fucked up by being in his room.
The more time passes, the more nervous I get.
I peek at him, finding him still watching me with the same blank expression.
“Your mom wanted me to get your dirty clothes and sheets. I promise I wasn’t going through anything,” I say, then hesitantly add, “I’m happy you’re staying here.”
I bite my tongue to stop myself from admitting how much I’ve missed him. He may loathe me, but I can’t find it in my heart to hate him. Not after all the stolen moments we had throughout the years.
Ryder slowly blinks and eases his head to the side. Dark-brown tendrils of hair fall over his eyes, blocking my view of them.
My hands tremble. If Ryder notices this detail, he doesn’t give away that he knows. I lower my gaze to the skull mask, pretending to find it more interesting than my hot-as-sin brother who’s watching me like a predator hunting its prey.
“I should go.” My voice comes out shaky and weak. Where’s the girl who sent a selfie with her middle finger held up?
I rush toward the door, which he’s still very much leaning against with no intention of moving.
I stop in front of him and struggle to swallow around the nervous lump in my throat.
My gaze remains on his broad chest, as I’m too afraid to look any higher and find hatred in his eyes.
Tattoos creep from the neckline of his black V-neck shirt and twist around his throat, creating demon faces and puffs of smoke.
My heavy breathing fills the silence, and my face tingles from the weight of his silent demand to look at him.
It’s all in my head. He doesn’t care, and I’m overthinking things again.
“I can’t leave if you’re standing in the way,” I whisper.
A second passes, then another, before he straightens and moves aside.
I force my gaze forward when it wants to go to him like it’s drawn by a magnet.
I open the door and barely feel the cold as it sweeps into the room.
Before I can take a step, Ryder slaps his palm in the middle of the door and slams it shut.
A scream lodges inside my throat, and I whip my head toward him.
His emotionless mask is gone, and his darkening blue eyes pin me in place.
I don’t know what I did to deserve this. It’s not like I can ask him, because he refuses to open up to me.
Ryder leans forward until his nose bumps into mine. Amber and cypress fill my lungs, and I gulp in deep breaths, greedy to have him inside me any way I can. My legs threaten to give out from under me as I consume my stepbrother’s unique smell.
“What?” I squeak.
Ryder holds out his hand. I glance at it, my eyebrows pinching together. His other hand roughly grasps my jaw and forces me to look at him again. A shudder sweeps through me as he holds me in place, his touch burning its memory into my skin.
“What?” I whisper. “Why can’t you just talk to me?”
“ Mine ,” he growls.
I black out for a moment. Or maybe my soul leaves my body and I transcend into a different realm meant for the gods. There’s no way my brother just laid claim on me. I’m trying to get the hell out of marrying a man who thinks he owns me, not jump into my stepbrother’s bed because he called me his.
“No, I’m not,” I stammer. Blood rushes to my cheeks as Ryder’s eyebrow rises and his head tilts.
His gaze flicks to my hand, which is still pressed to my chest. “The mask. That’s mine.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Oh.”
With stiff movements, I ease the skull mask into Ryder’s waiting palm.
He jerks it away from me and straightens.
I suck in a ragged breath as he brushes past me and strides to the end of his bed.
The basket of dirty clothes remains in the same spot.
It’s too close to him, and any chance I had of grabbing it is now nonexistent.
No way in hell will I be dragged back into his orbit and risk another confusing interaction.
“Leave,” Ryder says. His tone holds no room for argument, and he doesn’t have to raise it to let me know I’m not welcome here.
It grates on my already frayed nerves. How can he continue to dismiss me like I’m nothing to him? I’m tired of Ryder holding this grudge against me, whatever the reason is. My former friendship with Mickey can’t be the only reason.
This started long before him.
I leave empty-handed and with my heart lodged in my throat. I duck inside the house and dash all the way to my bedroom to escape the potential onslaught of questions from Carolyn. She’ll ask where Ryder’s dirty clothes are, then scold me for being disobedient.
I lean against the closed bedroom door and close my eyes. Heat floods my veins as I reminisce about the interaction with Ryder.
His growled word repeats in my head like a broken record.
“Mine.”
How could I have been so stupid to think he meant me? Of course I’m not his. He’s my brother, and I’m engaged to a pig who calls me his wife.
“Mine.”
I sink my front teeth into my bottom lip as a shiver skips down my spine.
These sick thoughts about Ryder will get me into a lot of trouble. As happy as I am about him staying the night here, I won’t go against my promises and the desperate need to get out of town.