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Underneath the Sycamore Tree(26)

Author:B. Celeste

He shifts his body toward me. “Firstly, I don’t really do the label thing, so don’t call yourself my stepsister, Cinderella. Secondly, you’re right. You need to gain at least thirty pounds to look like the girls I hang around, and thirdly, I’m not friendly toward anyone.”

I guess he has a point about his demeaner toward people, so there’s no point in arguing it. Before I can even try, he’s tilting my chin up with two of his fingers and grinning wickedly. I hate the tingly feeling I get in the pit of my stomach from the contact, or how my heart goes into overdrive when I see his dark eyes lighten when they’re up to no good.

I tell myself it’s because I’m not used to people touching me like this—being close. I’d react this way to anybody who would do the same thing. Yet, my brain tells me otherwise. I could meet someone tomorrow who would dare to defy Kaiden’s instructions just to speak to me, and I wouldn’t feel airy and light and nervous and numb all at the same time with them.

“Frankly,” Kaiden murmurs in a tone so low it caresses my skin, “the only reason I’m not going to fuck you senseless is because I’ve seen what one little touch does. Imagine what I’d do to your body if I got between those pretty little legs of yours.”

I stop breathing.

“I’d ruin you, Em.”

My eyes widen.

Then I blink.

I’d ruin you first.

Chapter Fifteen

Kaiden leaves shortly after his brazen remark. It leaves me bothered in a lot more ways than I anticipate, so I brush it off by picking up a book and reading until I fall asleep.

Unfortunately, I dream of Kaiden. And not in a friendly or brotherly way. I dream about him like I’d dream of one of my many book boyfriends who want to devour and claim me and love me in ways Kaiden certainly doesn’t.

And that’s…well, that’s a problem.

A big problem.

Because he may not do labels, but I do.

Like stepbrother.

And stepmother.

And fatal.

Fatal attraction.

Fatal affection.

Fatal disease.

He thinks he’ll ruin me, but he has no idea what unstoppable forces are in my arsenal. I’m my own weapon, a nightmare that lives in reality. It isn’t something I can control, and he has no idea. I don’t think getting close to him will do any good, whether it’s friendly or not.

If he still struggles with his father’s death, what would mine do to him?

I’m not sure I want to find out.

For once, I wish I was seeing Mama’s teary golden eyes instead of Kaiden Monroe. I wish I was listening to Lo’s playful laughter instead of Kaiden’s husky words. Wishes don’t come true though, because this isn’t some fairytale.

It’s reality.

And reality is a mean bitch.

Chapter Sixteen

Tomorrow is the day before October break and everyone is loud and eager to have a week off. I already heard at least half the senior class mention skipping tomorrow and starting early, especially because Halloween is on Saturday. Apparently parties are common for the holiday, costume or not, and I even heard one guy mention going out after midnight redecorating people’s houses with toilet paper and who knows what else.

When Mr. Nichols realizes he doesn’t have everyone’s attention at Book Club, he reminds us to start reading the next book for the week after break and then lets us go. Considering it’s my selection, I probably won’t spend a lot of time gathering quotes and ideas for discussion, especially since Dad agreed to take me to Mama’s for the week.

Honestly, I’m nervous. I called Grandma asking if she thought it’d be okay, and she seemed excited. That doesn’t mean Mama will feel the same, and I’m not sure how she’ll react when she sees me.

It’ll be good. That’s what I keep telling myself. It gives me time back home to visit with everyone, especially Logan. Plus, it gives me a chance to breathe. Things with Dad haven’t been bad, but that doesn’t extend to Kaiden.

Ever since our impromptu movie night, he finds ways to make me blush—winks, hand brushes, crude comments. Usually, he doesn’t pay me much attention if we’re both home. He does his thing and I do mine. Once in a while he’ll barge into my room while I’m doing homework and ask me pointless questions, pestering me because he can.

It makes Cam smile.

You’re like siblings, she told me.

I haven’t gone to the tree since that day either. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve gone to school with him, drove home with him, and locked myself away in my room. It never stops him if he wants my attention, and I can’t help but wonder what the point of it is.

When the late bus drops me off in front of the house, I’m tired and ready to change into my sweatpants for the evening. To my surprise, the front door is locked and the key on my chain is missing. Strange. Thankfully, I vaguely remember Dad telling me that there was a spare key hidden somewhere.

It takes a long moment to search through the fogginess of my memory before I’m looking under the rim of the flowerpot he mentioned it being under.

Nothing.

I check another one.

Nothing again.

Sighing, I turn and knock on the door. Kaiden’s car is here, so he must have gotten done in the weight room early. I wait a minute before knocking louder until my knuckles hurt. The doorbell doesn’t work. Cam keeps saying she’ll get it fixed, but never calls anyone.

I back up and glance at the windows, trying to see if there’s a light on. There doesn’t seem to be, so I go around the back to check the glass door leading to the kitchen.

Someone locked the fence door.

I don’t remember it ever being locked.

My phone died twenty minutes ago, so I can’t call anyone. I’m not even sure what the home number is here, because I never hear it ring. I’m pretty sure the landline is there for decoration only, because I see Dad and Cam on their cell phones more than not.

They’ll come home soon and rescue me from the chilly air that’s beating against my skin. My fall jacket is nothing more than a protection against a subtle breeze, but it does nothing against the nip of air that’s getting colder as the minutes pass.

I sit on the front steps and tuck my knees against my chest for warmth.

Five minutes pass.

Ten.

Fifteen.

The tips of my fingers are starting to go numb, and I notice the discoloration of a few. They’re turning blue. Lo had something like this when it got too cold. Her circulation wouldn’t work right, and her fingers and toes would turn a deep purple until she got them warm again.

I try sitting on them to heat them up, but wince at how tender the joints are. Sharp pain shoots down my wrists and settles into my elbows, causing me to tear up. My jaw quivers as the breeze hits me, and there’s nothing blocking it from hitting where I sit in front of the door.

After what feels like forever, Dad pulls in. He seems stunned I’m sitting there, and quickly gets out with his work bag and a small frown on his face.

“Emery?” When he gets closer, his eyes widen at my shaking form. I can’t sit still. My nose is numb, my cheeks sting, and my hands are now swollen and blue despite sitting on them for over half the time I’ve waited for somebody.

He cusses under his breath and quickly drops his things to peel off his coat. It’s thicker than mine and feels like heaven when he drapes it over my shoulders.

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