Page 14 of Fracture

“Did she… tell you anything?” She’s still frozen, almost trembling.

“Tell me what?” I frown, and she seems to come out of her trance, slowly putting the book down on the kitchen counter. “Did something happen?”

“It doesn't matter.” She shakes her hair out over her shoulder, and continues taking books from the bag. “But yes, I sold the house. Dad left it to me, and I didn't want it. I hated that place. Your mother was furious, but I didn’t really care. I told her she could buy me out, but that didn’t suit her either.”

I grunt out a laugh. “She just felt entitled, if she'd wanted to buy it she could have.”

“My thoughts exactly.” She stacks the books up on the counter. “Anyhow, I sold the place, and bought this house. Suits me way better than some soulless mansion.”

“You did good, kid.”

She meets my eyes with a soft smile. “Thanks. Hardly a kid anymore, though.”

Her words do not have the intended effect, and I hate myself for it. She's definitely not a kid. She’s a woman with pretty blonde hair and big amber eyes. She’s standing in front of me in a tight jumpsuit in no panties, and I shove myself off the wall before I do something stupid.

“I should go shower,” I call over my shoulder, leaving her and her books alone in the kitchen. I head straight to the bathroom, turning the cold up all the way and dousing myself in the stream, chasing away all the fantasies of the things I want to do with my little stepsister.

I’m sick. Depraved. This isn’t normal. Maybe I should have just let her kick me out after all. Because there’s no way this is going to end well.

CHAPTER 4

STELLA

Dylan wanders into the kitchen,bleary-eyed, in nothing but black boxer briefs. I sit silently at the window and watch him stumble to the coffee machine. He pulls out the pot, then seems to remember he doesn’t have a cup, and turns to find me watching him.

“Oh, shit. Uh, I mean, good morning.”

“Morning.”

He averts his eyes sheepishly. “Sorry, if I’d known you were here I would have gotten dressed. I thought you’d be at work.”

I shrug lightly, looking out the window. “Stupid me took all my vacation days thinking I’d be catching up with you both.” I take a sip of coffee. “More fool me, huh?”

Dylan is suddenly standing next to me, still holding the coffee pot. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I need to say it for you to believe me, but-”

“I don’t need you to say it at all.” I rise to my feet and fix him with my gaze. “I don’t need words, Dylan. Words don’t mean anything. You could stand here and say you’re sorry til you’re blue in the face, and all I’d think is that you wanted to get laid.”

His dark eyes widen. “Stella, that’s not what it is at all.”

“No? Sure felt like that the other night when you got all handsy with me.”

He runs a hand over his head, still clutching the goddamn coffee pot in the other, and he splutters as he tries to find the right words. “I-I fucking love you, OK? What do you want me to say? That I didn’t come out of prison hoping to get you home and fuck you senseless? Yeah, I did.”

A laugh lodges in my throat. “See? Nothing but a piece of ass.” I move past him over to the sink, and then the coffee pot is on the counter next to me and I’m spun around in Dylan’s arms. He stares down at me, his gaze a mixture of determination and deep pain.

“There has never been a single moment where I saw you as nothing but a piece of ass.”

“Right. You love me.” I don’t know why I’m giving this beautiful man such a hard time. I don’t know why I’m ignoring the sharp thud of my heart in my ribcage as he holds me close. I’m desperately tempering the need to pull his face down to mine, to kiss him till our lips hurt, to let him put me up on this counter and fuck away the longing and loneliness of the last ten years. I blink all that away, and stick out my chin. “I’m done being loved by people who hurt me, Dylan. I’m sick of it. If that’s love, I don’t want it.”

“I’ve never wanted to hurt you, Stella.” He lifts a hand and traces it down my neck, along the curve of my shoulder, and it makes me hurt even more. “And I know I have, because I was stupid and reckless. I know that. But you have to believe me, I never meant it.”

I shrug, my eyes stinging so hard I have to blink to stop the flood of saltwater that’s threatening to escape any second. “More words. More apologies. I can’t do anything with that.”

He takes a step back from me with a growl, his jaw feathering and his hands on his hips. “Stella, I don’t know how to do this. OK? I spent my 20s in prison. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“So figure it out.”

“How?” His voice is strained with frustration, his hands cupping the air in front of him hopelessly.

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