Chapter 9
Eleven Years Earlier
Ishould be excited to spend my first Christmas in the new house.
We have a huge tree already set up next to the marble fireplace.
Mom seems happy to have the big kitchen to cook Christmas dinner, but I’m finding myself missing our studio apartment in the city.
Darrell isn’t too bad as far as stepdads go.
I wouldn’t know firsthand since he’s the only stepdad I’ve ever had, but from my friends at school, I know I could have it much worse.
The problem is that ever since my mom married him, I’ve faded into the background.
It’s not like I was ever in the spotlight, but during the holidays, I used to feel a special sort of glow from my mom.
Now that belongs to Darrell, and to make matters worse, my stepbrother Derek came home for the holidays.
I wish he would ignore me like his dad and my mom do, but he seems set on annoying me every chance he gets.
Except that’s not entirely true. Something weird happened today.
Our parents had gone out for dinner, leaving Derek and me home alone.
I turned on a Christmas movie to veg out with some caramel corn.
I had intended to spend my night alone, since Derek spends most of his time in his room anyway, but he wanted to join me, despite my attempts to downplay the movie.
He sat next to me and even shoved his grubby hands into my caramel corn!
I wanted to yell at him and tell him to get lost, but the truth is…
he kind of scares me. He has a temper. When he doesn’t get what he wants, he starts to growl and show his teeth.
It’s so weird. But all of this isn’t the weirdest part.
After he ate most of my caramel corn, I decided to get a refill from the kitchen.
I really didn’t want to miss any of my movie, though, and I attempted to walk backward on the way to the kitchen, not seeing the side table behind me and knocking my mom's pink crystal vase to the ground.
My Christmas movie night turned into a horror movie night, with me as the main character, as I stared down at the shattered, blown-glass vase.
I started to cry. I was already out of favor with my parents, and this would push me even further away. But Derek sprang into action, grabbing a broom and dustpan from the shoe closet and cleaning up the mess I'd made. He told me to go to bed, which I did, without even thanking him for his help.
The next morning, I tried to stay in bed as long as possible, terrified of my parents’ wrath.
My stomach ached with hunger, and I was so bored that I was sure I would die in my bed if I didn’t move, so I gathered my nerves and made my way to the kitchen.
Mom and Darrell busied around making breakfast. Mom even smiled at me when I came down the steps.
I double checked, to make sure I hadn’t imagined the whole thing, and sure enough, the vase was gone. Had they not noticed it yet?
I didn’t prod, just sat at the kitchen island. I noticed the silence. Something was missing. “Where’s Derek?” I asked.
Mom gave Darrell a serious look before he cleared his throat. “He’s back at school.”
“What? Why? Christmas is this weekend.”
They gave each other another look. I was starting to worry that this was like the time Mom told me my dog had gone to live on a farm.
Mom continued bustling around the kitchen as she talked to me. “As you know, Derek has anger problems. I’m not sure if you heard it last night when we were gone, but your stepbrother had a little tantrum and broke the vase I got from the auction last summer. At least he admitted it.”
Darrell cleared his throat. “Your mother and I decided it would be best if he spent Christmas back at school.”
I should have told the truth then and there, but I was too busy trying to figure out why Derek had lied—for me. It didn’t make any sense. Derek hates me. I’ve concluded that he hated me so much that he was looking for a way to get away from me and our family. That has to be it.
Well, Merry Christmas to me and my lonely home.
***
“Damn.” I shut the cover of my purple sparkly middle-school journal. “I was a bit dramatic.”
I should have been focused on getting ready for Lewis tonight, but instead, I went through my closet and found a box of my middle-grade memorabilia.
Mom was unsuccessful in booking me any of her many much-wanted appointments, but vowed she'd come and help me blow out my hair and do my makeup before Lewis arrived. I couldn’t spend the entire day pacing my room, so a blast from the past was my only option.
If I knew it would only make me think of Derek further, I’d nix the reading and opt for a quick ab workout like Mom suggested.
Physical torture sounded much better than whatever was currently going on in my head.
I hadn’t thought about that Christmas in years, and before reading the journal entry, I remembered it so differently.
It’s clear to me now, with a more developed frontal lobe, that Derek took the blame for the vase because he felt bad for me and somehow noticed I was struggling with my mom’s approval.
It very well could have been because he hated me and wanted to get away, but I’ve seen a different side of him now—not one that exudes kindness, but a side that might enjoy my company, even in the slightest.
Maybe Derek hasn’t always been as bad as I thought.
Yes, he terrorized me, but now that I know the truth about him, I can’t help but feel bad for the childhood he was dealt.
Derek wasn’t sent away because of his temper.
He grew up as a bear-shifter, or whatever the fuck he is.
The way Darrell acts around him all makes sense now.
Except, not really. Because he obviously knew his son was a bear, and instead of helping him learn how to navigate his instincts, he sent him away and bullied him whenever he was home.
No wonder Derek got mixed up with the wrong crowd as an adult. He doesn’t know any better.
Wait. No. It’s Derek. Fuck him and fuck me for letting a mind-blowing orgasm give me a bleeding heart.
Luckily for my warring thoughts, my mother knocks on my door. “Who’s ready for a makeover?”
I eye the heavy-duty styling tool, the tackle box of makeup, and the garments draped over her arms, and suddenly, contemplating Derek doesn’t seem like the worst option for wasting the rest of the evening.
***
I emerge from my room two hours later, looking like some Texan beauty queen, or at least an attempt at one. I don’t have the nerve to tell my mom to change everything back. Besides, maybe Lewis will like this new look. He always told me he preferred my hair straight.
I enter the kitchen area, with Mom trailing my heels and fidgeting with a strand of my hair that has already started curling, just as a knock echoes from the front door.
“Coming!” Darrell chimes.
I busy myself with glancing around the kitchen, catching full countertops steaming with food.
Lewis’ voice triggers a fight or flight response, and I freeze as he enters, already engaged in a conversation with Darrell.
He sees me, and his expression changes. “Wow, hi.” He smiles, one of his brilliant grins that always had me weak in the knees, but right now feels a little less bright.
Perhaps it’s a glob of smoky eyeshadow lodged in my eye.
“Hello.” I wave.
A weird silence passes between us. He breaks it. “I hope this isn’t crossing a line. When I saw your parents in California, it felt like fate.”
My heart should sing at his words. He never mentioned anything romantic when we were together, but something about the way he says it annoys me, as if he rehearsed in the car on the way here, and not in an endearing way, but in an acting way.
I open my mouth to speak, but Mom beats me to it.
“Oh, Lewis. It’s totally fine. You’re like family.
” She removes the distance between them, wrapping him in a hug.
The idea of Lewis was always her favorite part of me.
I never brought him around, since I didn’t want to be around them, so I guess her sentiment is true.
He is like family—the kind you never see but pretend to love.
Darrell pulls my mom to him, putting on his devoted husband-and-father act he always wears in the presence of strangers. “Well, I hope you’re hungry, Lewis. Dinner is ready.”
“Starved.”
With that, we all trickle into the dining room, where Mom has dressed the table with her nicest china, already full with food from—God knows where, because my parents definitely don’t cook.
We all take our seats, Lewis beside me and my parents across from us.
I’m so nervous about what to say, especially in front of my desperate-looking parents, that I almost forget about the other person who also lives in this house, until he enters the dining room, dragging a chair from the kitchen and taking a spot next to me.
“I see you all were about to start without me,” Derek says, glaring at my parents as he pulls the place setting from Darrell and arranges the plate and wine glass in front of him.
Because I know Darrell, I catch the steam blowing from his seams at his son’s behavior, but he’s nothing if not a fantastic actor so I doubt Lewis catches it.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were home. I’ll grab myself another plate.
” He stands, placing his hand on Derek’s shoulder before leaving the room.
I don’t miss the squeeze, his fingertips digging into Derek’s injured shoulder.
Derek winces but hides the pain, putting on a forced smile.
He turns to Lewis, ignoring me in between them.
“Oh, and who do we have here? You must be the new assistant my parents hired.”
Lewis scrunches his face but his smile doesn’t leave. “Oh, no. I’m Lewis. I’m…”
Derek interjects. “Oh, that’s right, the gardener?”
“No, I’m…”