Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Lila
Ace stands on his side of the bed, hands in his pockets as he watches me finish packing with an infuriating calm. Why isn’t he sad like I am? Why isn’t his heart breaking at the thought of saying goodbye when it feels like we’ve just found each other?
I shove my last crop top into the corner of the suitcase and force the zipper shut. My hands are shaking, and not discreetly. No, this is the full-body tremor of someone trying very hard not to cry in front of the person to whom she finally gave her heart.
But… did I do that? Yes, I confessed my love for Ace. That’s it. I didn’t suggest a future together. Because, well, how can we have one? He’s my stepbrother. Sure, it’s not illegal for us to be together. But it is forbidden, and I’m pretty sure our parents would die.
Two tears fall from my eyes as I pull the suitcase off the bed and turn to the door where Ace stands. I don’t wipe them. If he sees them, fine. Let him see them. Let him know that leaving him feels like pulling a part of myself out by the roots.
Instead of comforting me, he doesn’t speak or move. He just opens the door and steps aside. Squaring my shoulders, I grab the handle and wheel the suitcase toward the door. The wheels make a sound like a death rattle on the thin carpet.
Outside, the morning is aggressively beautiful. Sunshine on the lake, birds doing their obnoxious bird things in the pines, the whole scene arranged like a postcard designed specifically to mock me.
My parents are on the porch of the main lodge. Mom’s hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun that looks deliberate, and she’s laughing at something one of the resort staff is saying, her hand on Dad’s forearm.
Dad spots me first. Waves. “There’s our girl.”
Mom turns, and the smile that breaks across her face is the kind that could power a small city. She detaches from the conversation and crosses the porch toward me, arms already open.
“Are you heading out already?” she asks, pulling me into a hug.
“Yeah. Flight’s at four,” I mumble into her shoulder.
She squeezes my shoulders, holds me at arm’s length, and studies my face with the particular focus of a mother who can read her daughter’s micro-expressions like they’re subtitled. Her eyes flick past me, toward the cabin, and I know exactly who she’s looking for.
“I’m glad you’re coming home, sweetheart,” she whispers, low enough that only I can hear it.
I force a smile. It feels tight across my face, like something stretched too thin. “Yeah. Me too,” I say, pretending it was a choice to give up on New York and come back to California for good.
It’s not entirely a lie. Parts of me want to come home; it would just be nicer if it wasn’t because I’m broke and never managed to realize any of my dreams. But I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.
Dad claps me on the back with the enthusiasm of a man who has never once doubted that his family is exactly where it should be. “Drive safe, kiddo. Text us when you land.”
“I will.”
Another hug. More promises to call. Mom’s eyes find mine one more time, and there’s something in them—knowing, but saying nothing. The look of a woman who has figured out more than she’s letting on and has decided, wisely, to keep it to herself.
I wheel my suitcase down the gravel path toward the rental car. The wheels sound like they’re screaming.
Each rotation is another step away from him, from this room, from the feeling of his hands in my hair and his mouth on my skin and the words we said to each other in the dark.
Reaching the car, I pop the trunk and heave my suitcase inside. I hear footsteps just as I’m about to slam it shut.
“You’re not doing the disappearing act again, Li.”
His voice comes from behind me, and I don’t turn around because if I turn around I will either punch him or kiss him, and neither option feels appropriate with our parents lurking.
I close the trunk and lean against it, crossing my arms over my chest as I finally face him.
Ace stands five feet away, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, his Hawaiian shirt open over his board shorts.
The morning light catches the line of his jaw, and I want to put my mouth on it. I want to put my mouth on every part of him, and the wanting is so fucking acute it borders on physical pain.
“My flight is booked,” I say. The words come out flat, rehearsed. “My apartment in New York needs to be packed. I have a plan, and I don’t need you complicating it.”
He just watches me with those blue eyes that have always seen straight through the armor I spend so much time maintaining. “What plan?” he asks.
“The one where I come back to California on my own terms. Where I figure out what I want without…” I trail off. “Without you hanging over every decision like a ghost I can’t exorcise.”
He smirks as he drops his duffel next to my car. “A ghost, eh?” His smile widens as he reaches around me and pulls my boarding pass from my back pocket. “I see you still don’t trust technology,” he observes.
Most people keep their boarding pass on their phone, but I like having it printed out in case I lose my phone.
“Anyway, I’m coming with you, Li,” he informs.
Wait… what? I stare at him. The words don’t compute. “You can’t just… that’s not… Ace, this is insane.” The objections tumble out in a rush, tripping over each other. “You have a life here. Your dad.”
“Take a deep breath, Li.”
I continue, unable to focus on what he’s saying. “And what about us? What we are to each other? People don’t just… they don’t accept this, Ace. They don’t look at us and see anything but—”
“I don’t give a fuck what they see,” he cuts in. “I’ve already looked at flights. There’s one leaving an hour after yours. You just have to wait for me for one hour in New York, stepsister.”
My chin wobbles as tears build behind my eyes for the second time this morning. “You’d really just leave?”
“I’d follow you anywhere,” he says.
“Ace,” I gasp.
Turning off my brain, I reach for him and kiss him. Hard. My hands cup his face, and his arms come around my waist and pull me against him so firmly I can feel his heartbeat through both our shirts.
Ace’s tongue meets mine, and the sound he makes—low, hungry, relieved—is enough to make my knees buckle.
I kiss him like I’m trying to pour three years of silence into a single moment. Like if I kiss him hard enough, long enough, with enough conviction, maybe the universe will finally stop throwing obstacles between us.
Maybe the labels will stop mattering. Maybe the distance will collapse under the weight of what we are to each other.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, and his thumb traces the line of my jaw like he’s memorizing it.
“God,” I whisper against his mouth. “I really fucking love you.”
* * *
Ace
Mom and Dad appear at the edge of the gravel lot as if they’ve been waiting for the exact right moment to interrupt, which, knowing them, they probably have.
Reaching us, Dad claps me on the back with enough force to jolt my spine. “Drive safely, son. Text when you get there.”
“I’m going with Li to help pack up the apartment,” I say. The words come out casually, like I’m mentioning a weekend trip to the beach, not the complete rearrangement of my life. “Might take a few weeks. Figured I’d make a road trip out of the drive back.”
Dad nods like this makes perfect sense. Mom’s mouth does that thing where it twitches at one corner, the closest she gets to a full smile when she’s trying not to show her hand.
Then they’re waving, and we’re getting into the car—closing the doors with a sound that feels final.
“Are you ready?” I ask, starting the car.
“Let’s go, stepbrother.”
The resort shrinks in the rearview mirror. First the cabins, then the dock, then the entire property compressed into a postcard-sized image that gets smaller with every rotation of the tires.
Lila has her feet up on the dash, her knees pulled toward her chest. Her green-streaked hair is pushed behind one ear, and the morning light catches the line of her throat in a way that makes it difficult to keep my eyes on the road.
I reach over without looking. Drop my hand on top of hers on the center console. She turns her palm up so I can lock our fingers together.
The silence between us isn’t the kind that needs filling. Her thumb traces a slow line across my knuckles, and the sensation travels straight up my arm and settles somewhere behind my ribs.
“So,” she says after a while. “What’s the plan, exactly?”
I keep my eyes on the highway. “Fly to New York and pack your apartment. Ship everything back.” I pause. “Then we drive.”
“Drive.”
“Yeah. Let’s go on a cross-country road trip, Li.” I glance at her. “Just you and me and the open road.”
I can feel her staring at me. “Are you serious?” she finally asks.
Squeezing her hand, I say, “I’m always serious about you, stepsister.” The corner of my mouth lifts. “Plus, it gives me more time to fuck you with no prying parentals around.”
The sound of her laughter fills the car, bright and startled and genuine. “That sounds perfect.” Her hand tightens around mine, and for a second I forget we’re driving, forget the highway, forget everything except the feeling of her skin against mine and the fact that I get to keep it.
“I love you,” she says.
“I love you, too,” I say back. The words come out easily, which is surprising, given how long I’ve been carrying them.
Letting go of her hand, I move it to her bare thigh. She’s wearing those flowery shorts that only reach mid-thigh, the ones that hug her ass in a way that should be classified as a public service.
My palm settles on the warm skin above her knee, and she doesn’t move away. I trace a line upward. Slow. Deliberate. Her breath catches, just barely, but I hear it—the small, sharp intake that tells me exactly what this is doing to her.
My fingers etch higher; over the curve of her thigh, along the sensitive inner line, and her legs part just enough to let me continue.
“Ace,” she moans.
“Yes, stepsister?” I smirk, squeezing her flesh enough to make her gasp.
My hand stops just short of her core. I keep it there, close enough for her to feel the heat but not touching.
Lila’s eyes find mine. “How about a detour when the road forks up there?” She points toward the distance. “I want to scream your name in the woods again.”
I press my palm against her pussy, groaning when I feel the wetness through her shorts. “Anything for you,” I rasp.