Chapter 6 #2
“Oh yes, because that’s the logical conclusion here.” I rolled my eyes, carefully avoiding any mention of just how much older. “Not that I’m terrified of rejection—clearly the age gap is the most pressing issue. Maybe solve a different mystery, Sherlock.”
The silence that followed was about as comfortable as a bed of nails covered in Legos. Finally, he asked, “Why exactly is confessing such mission impossible? I mean, unless they’re married or a wanted criminal, it can’t be that bad.”
Oh, it’s worse, I thought. They’re my stepbrother. They practically raised me. They’re you.
“It’s complicated,” I managed, my voice hitting notes usually reserved for puberty’s greatest hits. “Like, quantum physics complicated. String theory might actually be easier to explain. Less chance of emotional devastation, too.”
Without warning, Jaxson yanked the car over to the curb like he’d spotted a ‘Houses For Sale’ sign in the wild.
Before I could ask if we were having an emergency real estate intervention, he pulled me into his arms, and suddenly my brain cells decided to take a collective vacation to somewhere tropical, leaving behind a note that just said “Good luck with this one, buddy.”
I melted into his embrace because apparently, my self-preservation instinct had taken one look at this situation and filed for early retirement.
God, but he smelled amazing—like expensive cologne and every bad decision I’d ever wanted to make.
I buried my face against his chest, soaking in his warmth like a cat who’d found that one perfect sunbeam.
God, I love him. I love this man. I love Jaxson. The words pinballed around my skull like a sugar-rushed toddler, somehow managing to hit every corner of my brain except the exit to my mouth. Thank all available deities for small mercies.
“I’m sorry, Lan,” he murmured, his voice soft enough to make cardiologists worry about my heart’s rapid gymnastics routine, “that you’re going through this.” His lips moved closer to my ear, his breath warming my skin and sending shivers down my spine. “Are you really in love with her?”
I shuddered, emotion rippling through me like an earthquake had decided to throw a party in my chest. “I really love… Jaxson.” The name slipped out like a ninja in plain sight, camouflaged in my sentence.
I held my breath, praying he hadn’t noticed.
“I don’t know what to do. This love is like a chronic condition, except instead of getting better, it keeps upgrading to premium features and…
” A pathetic whimper escaped me, because apparently I was going for gold in the Embarrassing Moments Olympics.
Someone engrave “Most Pathetic Pining” on my medal, please.
Jaxson’s arms tightened around me like he was trying to protect me from my own feelings. “I’m here to help you, Lan.” He chuckled, the sound lighter than my current emotional state deserved. “I’m sure it’ll work out. These things usually do, one way or another.”
I clutched his shirt like it was the last lifeboat on the Titanic, my heart attempting to break the sound barrier.
“I doubt it,” I mumbled into his chest. “That person sees me about as romantically as a pet goldfish. Or maybe a houseplant. ‘Oh look, there’s Lan. I should water him occasionally and make sure he gets enough sunlight.’”
Realizing I was one more minute away from either combusting or kissing him—both equally disastrous options that would probably end with me living in a cardboard box under a bridge somewhere—I practically teleported out of his arms, putting as much distance between us as the confines of the car would allow.
“Sorry,” I said, trying to sound casual and probably hitting somewhere between ‘panic attack’ and ‘nervous breakdown’ instead.
“But we should get home. I’m tired.” And if I stay in your arms any longer, I might do something that’ll get me written out of the family will.
Or worse, make Lunar New Year dinners really, really awkward.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice sounding oddly strained. “You’ve worked hard today.”
Fifteen minutes later, we made it home without any more impromptu roadside hugging sessions. I headed for my room like a heat-seeking missile, desperate for escape and possibly a paper bag to breathe into.
“Can I use the bathroom first?” I called over my shoulder to Jaxson, who was doing his nightly impression of a responsible adult by actually locking the front door. As if locks could keep out my inappropriate feelings.
“Mm-hmm,” he responded, probably already planning his late-night coffee ritual.
Colt materialized from his room like some brooding apparition. “You’re back.” As I shuffled past, he chuckled, his eyes taking in my disheveled appearance. “You look like you just went ten rounds with a food critic and lost spectacularly. That bad at work?”
“It was super busy,” I said, avoiding his too-perceptive gaze. “And I’m about to collapse in a way that would make Xander’s post-workout crashes look energetic. I’ve evolved beyond tired into some new state of existence where consciousness is optional.”
He ruffled my hair in that annoying big brother way that definitely wasn’t at all like how Jaxson did it—nope, not thinking about that.
Colt’s touch was rougher, more teasing than tender.
Not that I was comparing. Because that would be weird.
And I was definitely not weird. Just exhausted.
And possibly having a minor emotional breakdown. But not weird.
Before shutting myself in my room, I caught a glimpse of the two brothers heading to the kitchen, no doubt for their nightly ‘let’s solve the world’s problems over coffee’ session.
Soon, Wei would join them, and the three would chat until the sun decided to check if they were still awake.
Sometimes I wondered if they discussed me during these late-night summits. The thought made me squirm.
After grabbing what I hoped were clothes—my brain was operating on about two functioning neurons at this point, and they were both busy screaming about Jaxson—I locked myself in the bathroom.
I leaned against the door, sighing like I was auditioning for a teen drama.
After a quick teeth-brushing session, I dove into the shower like it might wash away my problems along with the day’s sweat.
The cool water felt amazing in the summer heat, but it did nothing to stop my mind from replaying that car scene.
That hug. The way Jaxson had held me. The feel of his breath against my ear.
How was I supposed to get over someone when they kept doing stuff like that?
It was like trying to diet while living in a chocolate factory where the chocolate kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear.
Focus, Lan. Sleep. Sleep is good. Sleep doesn’t involve inappropriate feelings for your stepbrother.
I jumped out of the shower and reached for my clothes, only to discover that my exhausted brain had betrayed me yet again. Instead of pajamas, I’d grabbed jeans. Just jeans. No shirt. No underwear. Clearly, my fashion sense had decided to take the night off along with my common sense and dignity.
Whatever. I was too tired to care about proper clothing protocol.
Wrapping a towel around my waist—because showing up naked would definitely not help my current situation and might actually cause Colt to have an aneurysm about “proper household decorum”—I headed out, still dripping like I’d never heard of towel-drying.
Water conservation, right? That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.