Page 24 of Drifting

“How does it feel to be able to walk again?” Peter asks.

I smile big. “Good.” The doctor’s office automatically refills my prescription of pain meds, and I hand those to Peter. “Can you take these? I don’t want them.”

He slips them into his pocket without question. “I’ll make sure they’re disposed of properly.”

By the time we get home, I’m so tired just from walking from the car into the house that I go straight to bed.

* * *

D-day finally arrives, signaling Hannah’s and Nick’s return from vacation.

Patty spent most of the day running around with her head cut off, worrying about everything. She’s planning on a nice family dinner, which is funny because I can’t remember her ever cooking before.

Wanting to get out of her way, I head to my new favorite spot to sit now that I can walk.

The pool.

I open the sliding glass door, step outside, and the warm sun hits my face. I head left to the part of the pool I named the lounge area, where a beige, L-shaped sectional faces the pool. On the other side of the pool, swivel chairs sit around a glass table with a green umbrella shooting out of it. I prop my foot up, take off my cast, wiggle into the cushions, then get lost in my book.

An hour later, sweat pours down my back. Damn, it’s hot out today.

Rubbing my eyes, I mark my spot and set my book on my lap. I need a break from reading. I get up balancing on my leg and stretch. I raise my face toward the sun and take a deep breath. Someone just mowed their lawn. I love that smell. It reminds me of playing in a small, plastic pool with Aunt Maria while Uncle Brett cut the grass. It’s quiet and peaceful here, with no car horns blaring or people yelling at each other.

Nope. Can’t get used to it. This will all be ripped away from me, one way or another. It always does. But the quiet here is nice. Nothing ever seems to happen here.

Just to prove me wrong, the boom of a bass fills the neighborhood, and a bright green Mustang pulls into the driveway two houses up from us. Uncle Brett’s paint technician would be flipping out over the color.

Part of the house and trees block me from getting a good view, but it’s enough for me to watch as a tall, muscular guy with a brown fohawk stride up the walkway toward the front door before he stops and turns my way.

Shit, he’s smoking hot. I can’t make out what color his eyes are from here, but I bet they’re brown. A fluttery sensation hits me in the pit of my stomach.

A dark blue truck pulls into Peter’s driveway, pulling my attention away from hotness.

Damn, I guess the new stepsiblings are home. Let the festivities begin.

Grabbing my cast, I velcro my leg back into it just as the sliding glass door opens. A dark-haired girl in daisy dukes and a crop top steps out, a scowl on her face as she stalks over.

Stopping in front of me, she cocks her hip to the side and puts her hand on it. “So, you must be the bitch’s daughter?”

Well, so much for niceties. Okay, she wants to play; I’m game. I’m used to people bad-mouthing me all the time. It’s nothing new, so if she wants to hurt my feeling, she’ll need to step it up.

I smile sweetly as I stand and pull my shoulders back. “Yep, that’s me. I guess you’re the dumb-ass stepsister?"

Her eyes roam my battered body, her nose crinkling as she goes. “Did your pimp daddy beat you up?”

Today, I put on a bikini top with blue jeans shorts before I came out here, putting all of my scars on display, both the old ones and the ones from the accident. The worst is the one on my left knee from when I was learning to ride my bike. They’re not something I try to hide. I’ve never been ashamed of my body, and I won’t start now.

Before I can take her down a peg, the guy who stands behind the bitch speaks up. “Enough, Hannah.”

This must be the stepbrother, Peter 2.0. Same dark brown hair cut short on the sides and long on the top. Black glasses that bring out the rich mocha color of his eye.

As Hannah crosses her arms and puffs up her chest, he steps between us.

Peter walks out to the patio, smiling. “Hannah, Nick. Good, you’ve met Patty’s daughter, Shelby.”

“Shelby? OMG. For real? Your name is Shelby?” Hannah laughs.

“Hannah.” Peter’s tone is a warning for his daughter. “I thought it would nice of you to introduce her to your friends. If I remember correctly, the school bonfire is tonight. That would be the perfect time to introduce her?” Peter smiles brightly at his daughter.

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