Page 8 of Silent Night

“Hm.” He reaches out slowly, but I avoid his touch by stepping back again. He follows, and we complete this dance until my back hits the fridge right beside the pantry. It’s cracked open a fraction, meaning I forgot to shut it completely, but I avoid letting my gaze linger, not to draw Bentley’s attention toward it and the person hiding inside.

Thankfully, he’s too distracted with trying to intimidate me. He slides his finger along my tank top’s strap, lingering around the swell of my breast. I’m quick to smack him away, but he’s quicker to position both his arms beside my head and press closer to me.

“Bentley,” I say in a warning tone.

“Relax,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking uptight. I can be the man to loosen you right up though.”

“God, you make me sick.” I jerk my arms until gaining control of them again and shove his chest. He backs up, grinning.

“And you’re so easy to mess with. Like I said before, we’re not related so there’s nothing wrong with it. Anyway, enjoy your…whatever it is you’re doing. I’m going back to bed. If you get cold later, feel free to join me in my bed. I’ll keep you nice and toasty.”

Ew.

With a final mocking salute, he spins on his heel and stalks out of the kitchen. I wait, pressed against the fridge, until I hear him far enough away to assume he’s gone back upstairs.

I force a few deep breaths, shaky now from my interaction with him. It’s funny how he makes me more nervous than the criminal hiding in the pantry.

The criminal I should have had removed immediately, whether with Bentley’s help or the cops. Or both. After all, what else should one do when finding someone breaking into their house?

When coming down and finding him rooting through the kitchen, I was struck with the immediate fear but played it off casually, figuring he’d be like old schoolyard bullies. Avoid showing fear to not empower them. But then the stranger turned around and I saw who it was.

Still, I can’t believe the coincidence.

For the weeks following when I found him sulking around in my childhood home, hand gripping one of Dad’s valuables, I thought about him. Even then, there was something alluring about him that I nevermade sense of. It wasn’t until later analyzing my interest in guys that it all made sense.

That same Christmas morning sparked many changes in my life. Not only meeting him, but the downfall of my parents. I learned my mother’s secret, which was the initial fracture of our family. When she and Dad began arguing, the holiday was completely ruined. Even today, the shouting echoes with that horrible memory, and no Christmas has been happy since. Dad’s rage was justified to Mom’s actions, but I yelled at them to stop fighting; to leave it alone for the day that was supposed to have pleasant memories. I’d threatened to run away if they didn’t stop, and accidentally let it slip where I’d be—with the boyfriend they didn’t know about.

He was two years older than me and ran with a rough group of people. Now looking back on that time in my life, I recognize he wasn’t the best choice for me. Or legal. But at the time, I was enthralled with him because he was so “free,” even though he had no life aspirations to do anything actually useful. He and his buddies hung around one of their parents’ basements, smoking dope, playing video games, and getting drunk day in and day out. To stupid eighteen-year-old me, he was thrilling. Fun. Everything I thought I wanted. He gave me attention when my parents were always too busy. Filled in the loneliness left in me when Dad was constantly working and Mom chose shopping and spa days with her friends—and her side relationship apparently—over spending time with me.

When I meant to run to his place, I ended up turning around and heading back home instead. That’s when I discovered the stranger in Dad’s office. He looked scared and cold. His clothing looked fairly new but too thin for the winter weather. Considering how I took off in only a t-shirt and cardigan, yeah, it was definitely thick coat weather. He had dark marks beneath his eyes, making me wonder when he last slept. There was something so…lost…in his gaze that called to me. A loneliness I recognized all too well in myself.

Since I was an asshole brat who was pissed at her parents, I let him go with the decorative dagger I knew cost quite a bit. For weeks afterwards, I wondered where my dark stranger—a nickname I gave him—went to. What he did.Whohe was.

That’s when, I realized I was drawn to the dark and dangerous ones. The ones who make mefeelsomething other than this emptiness I so often do. Him, the college guy I was dating, and the few boyfriends after him. The ones who should have cops called on them, rather than doing what I am.

Taking a deep breath and turning toward the pantry, I figure it’s a good enough time for the stranger to come out now that Bentley’s back in bed. Now, I need to get him gone, though I haven’t figured out how to do so yet.

“You can?—”

Hands reach for me, dragging me inside the pantry instead, yanking the door shut. My back hits the shelves as a large body presses me into them, his hair tickling my cheek, his growl coasting over my skin and straight to my insides.

“Who the fuck is he?”

Jealousy pours off him in thick waves, if that wasn’t so ridiculous considering he doesn’t even know me. Hands grip my wrists, and his nose skirts the side of my face, following a similar path Bentley took. Unlike him, the red flags that should be erecting, don’t.

“My stepbrother.”

He strokes a finger along the same tank strap that Bentley did, and with it, goosebumps sprout. I bite down on the small shiver, not wanting him to see how he’s affecting me. His touch eviscerates Bentley’s unwanted one and I could happily let him touch me everywhere.

“Why didn’t you tell him I was in here?” With the lack of light in the pantry, his expression is shielded, butgoddo I want to see him.

“Because then we’d have a problem on our hands.”

“We”he repeats with emphasis, a bit of a chuckle in the single word. “We’re awenow?”

“Um.” I didn’t mean it like that. “I, uh, just meant…”

“Relax.”

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