Chapter 10
Ten
JADE
Fifteen years ago
“Do you have all your bags packed?” Mom asks, poking her head into my room.
“Just about.” I scan through the contents of my suitcase folded neatly into piles. Mostly bikinis and sundresses with a few workout sets tossed in for good measure. You don’t need much more when you’re headed to a villa in Mexico.
“Is that all you’re taking?” Mom looks aghast at my singular suitcase. Knowing her, she probably has three suitcases for the week.
“It’s all I need.”
“Okay.” She shakes her head, bemused at how I could be her daughter when we’re so different. “The car will be here to get us in fifteen minutes. Are you excited?”
“Very,” I smile at her. This is my first time leaving the country.
Stephen appears in the doorway behind her; like his son he’s very tall and towers over my mom’s petite frame. He sets his hands on her shoulders and squeezes them gently. “You ladies ready?”
“I am,” I say as I zip the suitcase closed.
“Xander, grab Jade’s bag for her,” he directs.
“I can do it,” I say.
“Nah, I’ve got it.” Xander only has a duffel bag slung across his body and a guitar strapped to his back as he steps past our parents. “This it?” he asks me as he lifts the bag off the bed.
“Yeah.”
“Light packer.”
“Not as light of a packer as you it seems.”
“I have stuff down there already.”
“Right.” Makes sense as it’s their house we’re going to.
Stephen herds us all out of the house and into the waiting SUV.
I slip on my headphones for the drive to the airport and stare out the window at the ridiculous LA traffic as we go.
Nerves flutter in my belly at the thought of flying.
I’ve been in an airplane twice, and that was on vacation to see Mom’s second husband’s parents in Indiana when I was little. I barely remember it.
I lean over to Xander when I realize we’re headed in the opposite direction of the airport. “Where are we going? LAX is in the opposite direction.”
“Van Nuys. We’re flying private.”
My lips part in surprise. “Oh.” I sit back against my seat. What a fucking wild life I’m leading now. From a little apartment in the valley to flying on a private jet. We haven’t even left LA, and I’m already feeling like a fish out of water.
I stick close to Xander as we walk through the private airport and to our waiting plane.
Mom walks up the steps with the confidence of someone who was born for private jets and expensive mansions.
Couldn’t be me. This plane looks kind of small to trust. I glance into the cockpit and see two pilots sitting there with checklists.
A flight attendant smiles at us and welcomes us aboard.
The cabin has a small sofa along one side at the front and past it are two tables with comfortable looking seats. I drop down into one, and Xander sits beside me. Mom and Stephen take the table in front of us.
“I’m guessing you haven’t flown private before?” Xander asks as he settles in.
“I’ve only flown twice before, and it definitely wasn’t private.” I gesture around the interior of the plane. “This is absolutely wild to me.”
“It’s a lot better than being stuffed together with random people in coach.”
“Have you ever flown coach?” I side eye him.
His quick grin tells me everything I need to know before words do. “Nope.”
“Nepo baby.”
He shrugs. “I appreciate my privilege.”
The thing is, he’s not lying. He’s actually quite humble from the other guys we went to school with, and his dad has more wealth than most of them due to the series of blockbuster movies he produced.
It comes down to Stephen being so kind and down to earth, I think.
Must be the Midwest nice in him. When Mom first told me about him, I thought maybe the appeal was more money based for her, but I see now that it’s not.
I’d never tell her that I had that thought at all, though.
I know it would be too hurtful, and I’ve been ashamed of myself for so long for even entertaining it.
All that to say I still don’t think Mom will be able to stick with the marriage for longer than usual. As soon as the high of the honeymoon period wears off, she’ll lose interest. It’s just the way she is. The amount of time they’ll be spending apart won’t help.
My attention is redirected from worries about my mom to anxiety as the plane pulls out onto the runway.
As we pick up speed and begin lifting off the ground, I grip the arm rests and press into the leather cushions at my back.
My eyes are squeezed shut as I fight nausea from the G forces on my body.
A large, warm hand wraps around mine, and I open my eyes to look over at Xander. His eyes meet mine as he runs his thumb over the back of my hand.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs quietly.
“Thanks.”
The tension melts from my body in a way I wasn’t expecting.
He doesn’t let go until I do, even though my palm is sweaty and I’m digging my nails into his skin.
Warmth blossoms through my chest as I think about every kind thing he’s done for me.
Over the past year he’s been there for me every step of the way.
Starting at a new school, defending my honor at prom, teaching me how to surf. I was so wrong about him.
He’s a good guy.
A great one, actually.
And he’s ridiculously attractive.
Too bad he’s my stepbrother.
We don’t speak for the duration of the flight. Instead, I spend the time with those four thoughts rattling around in my brain. I’ve always thought he was hot, obviously, but with each day we grow closer, the harder it is to keep him firmly in the off-limits category.
I’ll be at UCLA next year, and he may be an entire continent away. Even if there is something growing between us and our parents don’t last, we wouldn’t either. Plus, I’ve never even seen him look twice at any girls. Maybe he’s gay? Or asexual? Or just not into me at all.
Then he goes and slips his hand in mine again as the plane careens toward the runway.
Every thought I’ve been crafting in my mind about why we would never work flies right back out.
I’m a sucker for a sweet gesture, and this really does it for me.
The brush of his thumb over my skin is meant to be soothing, but instead heat pools between my legs.
Am I touch starved? Or just a hussy? Honestly, I’m not sure I care at this point. I just don't want him to let go.
I’m not sure what I was expecting from Stephen’s beach house, but it definitely wasn’t the home built right next to the beach tucked away from all the sprawling resorts.
It’s much smaller than the Beverly Hills house but no less spectacular.
The living room and kitchen are open concept taken to the next level with floor-to-ceiling glass doors that slide into the walls creating a seamless indoor outdoor living situation.
Gauzy curtains float on the cool breeze coming off the crashing waves of the Pacific.
“Xander, can you take Jade to her room?” Stephen asks.
“Sure.” Xander gestures for me to follow him down the hall to the left after he grabs my suitcase. When we come to the first door on the right, he gestures for me to enter. “This is your room. We share a bathroom, I hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh no, the horror.” I grab my chest dramatically. “How will I ever survive?”
He gives me an amused smile and sets my suitcase on the bench at the end of bed. I can’t help but wonder if his lips feel as good as they look.
I need to stop.
He’s my stepbrother.
“I’ll let you get settled in,” he says, stepping toward the hall.
“Okay. Do you know if your dad has anything planned for us today, or can I put a bikini on and lay out by the pool?”
“We always just chill the first day we come down. A chef will usually be by to prepare a meal for us.”
“Thank you.”
He tosses me a grin and a nod of his head as he closes the door behind him.
Before pulling out my swimsuits, I take myself on a little tour.
There’s a walk-in closet with more than enough space.
I’m obviously not leaving any clothes here, although it would be so nice to just travel between the homes carrying light luggage like Xander.
The bathroom we share is definitely large enough for both of us.
Mosaic glass tiles line the walls in all shades of blue, mimicking the way light filters through water.
There’s only one sink, but there is a built-in vanity which I’ve always wanted.
The shower has a waterfall shower head as well as two coming from the wall.
The door to Xander’s bedroom swings open, startling me. I jump and slap my hand over my chest.
“Shit, sorry.” He chuckles. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, it’s fine. I was just looking around. I’ll let you do whatever.” I wave my hand around awkwardly.
I walk back into my bedroom before I make an even bigger fool of myself.
Unzipping my suitcase, I dig until I find the bikini I want.
It’s my favorite, a mossy green with white polka dots string bikini.
I quickly change and forgo a cover-up since it’s just us at the house.
Hopefully Mom has sunscreen because I forgot to grab mine.
Xander steps into the hall at the same time as me.
He’s wearing a pair of low-slung board shorts and no shirt, clearly having had the same idea.
You wouldn’t think he’d be so cut by looking at him in regular clothes.
He’s tall and lanky with the type of subtle muscle that comes from being a musician.
Then you see him shirtless and realize it’s just an illusion.
Planes of muscle cover his body from his shoulders all the way to the divots leading in a V-shape to his shorts.
“Looks like we have the same idea,” he says.
“As long as I can find sunscreen. I forgot to pack mine.”
“Oh, we’re stocked. I’ll show you.”
He leads me to a closet at the end of the hall and pulls open the door.
Stacks of turquoise and white stripped towels line the top shelves.
He grabs two and then pulls out a basket of different tanning oils and sunscreens.
I opt for the highest possible mineral SPF and grab it.
There’s no way I’m trusting this tropical sun with my glow-in-the-dark skin.
After he grabs a bottle of what I assume is his preferred sunscreen, we walk side by side out to the living room. The sound of muffled, rhythmic bangs against the wall filters down the hall from the other side of the house. It takes me a second to catch on, but when I do, I look up at Xander.
His face reflects the same disgusted look as mine. “Gross.”
“Eww,” I say at the same time.
We both break into laughter as he wraps his hand around my arm and pulls me outside to the patio. I head for the lounge chairs as far from that end of the house as possible. He lays the towels out on the chairs. I start rubbing the thick lotion onto my arms and chest.
“I don’t know what’s brighter, the sun or your skin,” he teases as he rubs fucking tanning oil into his skin.
“Don’t come crying to me when you get skin cancer at thirty using that shit,” I volley back at him. I finish applying it all to everywhere I can reach. “Can you get my back?” I hold the bottle out to him.
After the slightest hesitation he takes it and puts a little in his palm. I turn and give him my back. His hands are warm and strong as he starts rubbing the sunscreen between my shoulder blades. They move to my lower back and continue to work the lotion in.
“Can you make sure to get some under the string, too?” I ask, noting how he avoided that area. “You can just slide your hands under it.”
He makes a strangled sound and then clears his throat. “Sure.”
“I tied it tight so don’t worry about it coming undone or anything. Hearing our parents fucking was traumatic enough for one day,” I joke, trying to ease his obvious discomfort.
At least I’ll be able to use this moment as another example of why I shouldn’t think of him in any way more than a friend. He’s obviously the furthest thing from attracted to me. We’re just friends, step siblings even. Who cares that he’s kind and talented and hot as fuck?
Not me.