Page 5 of Oblivion

Starling coming into our world changed everything. When we encouraged my dad to flirt with Starling’s mom, Cassidy, we never imagined they’d actually fall in love or get married. And I never considered that my new stepmom would be so determinedly against me not picking my own bride.

Although I’m grateful that Cassidy is advocating for my right to choose my own future, a part of me wishes they’d just take this choice out of my hands. Because if they don’t, I’ll spend the rest of my life craving Sammy and never allowing myself to have her.

Sammy belongs to Starling. They’ve become the best of friends. In another life, my stepsister might be excited to have me fall in love with her bestie. But in this life, my brothers and I have already taken so much from Starling that no matter how much I want Sammy, I won’t do anything that would risk their friendship.

It physically hurts me to let Hunter be the one to hold Sammy upright on the way to our cart, but I know she wouldn’t want me to be the one to touch her. Watching her in another guys’ arms makes me feel physically sick, but I can’t warn my brother away the way I’ve warned off every other guy who’s come near her since the day we met.

I’m too drunk to drive the cart back to our house, but I wait until Hunter has Sammy sat in the back seat before I get into the other cart, watching her obsessively until we get to the house.

“I’m fine. I can walk,” Sammy giggles as she stumbles through the front door and straight toward the stairs.

The others watch her for a minute, but when it seems she’ll be fine going up the stairs alone, they all head for the kitchen. I’m sober enough that I know I should eat before I go to sleep so I’m not crazy hungover in the morning, but drunk enough that I allow my body to follow my wild one up the stairs instead.

“I know you’re there,” she says, once we hit the second-floor landing. “I can feel it when you’re watching me.”

“I’m just making sure you don’t fall down the stairs,” I slur. Fuck, maybe I am a little drunker than I thought.

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” she snaps, her anger dampened by her glassy eyes and hard fucking nipples.

“I’ll still do it anyway.”

Huffing like an annoyed toddler, she spins around and nearly lands on her ass as her upper body moves quicker than her wobbly legs can cope with.

Rushing forward, I curl my arm around her waist and catch her before she hits the ground. My dick twitches when she starts to giggle, an unexpected burst of sound that lightens the tension that seems to compound between us whenever we talk.

Enjoying the sound of her albeit drunken happiness, I lift her off her feet, encourage her to wrap her legs around my waist, and start climbing the stairs, grateful that even drunk, I’m still stable enough to hold her.

Instead of arguing, I feel her sigh, relax, then rest her cheek against my shoulder. Not giving her the chance to remember she doesn’t want me to touch her, I ascend the stairs until I reach the door that leads to her bedroom.

Sebastian had the turret that used to be a storage room converted into a bedroom last summer before he tricked Starling into coming here. But after they officially got together, she moved down to his bedroom and invited Sammy to take her unused room.

Pausing outside the door, I watch as Sammy fumbles to get her keycard from her purse. Instead of taking her purse from her, I pull out my cell and unlock her door from the app Clay installed on my phone.

Every lock in the house can be opened remotely, but I have no idea if Sammy is aware that even if she locks her room, we can all still access it. Maybe she’s too drunk to react, because she doesn’t seem overly perturbed as I push open her door and climb the small staircase that leads to the highest room in the house.

Sebastian decorated this room with the sole purpose of taunting Starling. The wallpaper is hand-painted birdcages with tiny birds locked inside, to remind Starling that she would always be locked in the cage he created for her, and that only he held the key to her captivity and freedom.

My gut clenches at the reminder of the awful mindfuck we helped Sebastian pull Starling into. Seeing Sammy’s things inthis room, surrounded by all these cages feels wrong, because no matter how much I want her, I’ll never do what my brother did. I’ll never cage her or try to clip her wings.

“You can put me down now,” Sammy says, amusement lacing her voice. But she doesn’t try to free herself from my arms. Instead, I feel the soft huff of her breath as she exhales against my throat.

“I know,” I whisper.

Reluctantly, I lower her to her feet, hating every inch of distance I put between us.

A small hand reaches out when I start to turn away, her fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt. “I’m not making it up, am I?” she asks.

“What?”

“When you look at me, it feels like you want me, but then you turn away, and I wonder if I’ve imagined it.”

“Sammy.” Her name sounds like a warning and a caress, and I wish I could just lie. That I could tell her it’s all in her head, that we’ll only ever be friends, but as much as I wish I could, I can’t force the words from my lips.

Sadness fills her eyes. “Just tell me,” she begs.

“You haven’t imagined it,” I confess, hating myself for my weakness.

“Then why do you always look away?”

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