Page 15 of Butterfly

6

MASON

She was gone.

My butterfly had left—flown away, just like I’d told myself I wanted her to.

I was wrong.

I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when Leslie had become mine. I’d been resisting how badly I wanted her for so long, I didn’t notice when she slipped under my skin and made a home there. Maybe it was the night in the pool, or maybe it was when I’d discovered my skates missing from my closet. I couldn’t help how much I respected her for giving as good as she got—even though I had wanted to shake her for it.

Wanted to do a lot more than that. See if she gave as good as she got on her cool sheets in the dark, especially that night when I’d stood in the corner of her room and watched her sleep, vulnerable and unprotected. An unfamiliar urge filled me, to be her protector.

I hadn’t wanted to protect anyone, not since my mom faded away in front of me, and nothing I could do could protect herfrom death, could keep her with me. At that moment, even young, I’d sworn off love, sworn off feeling anything for someone fragile enough to be taken away from me.

But Leslie…she needed someone to look out for her, neededme.Maybe it was bullshit for an eighteen-year-old to feel this way, but my instincts told me it was my job to look out for her and provide what no man ever had.

Especially when I heard her murmur the wordDaddyin her sleep. At first I’d thought it was about her deadbeat father, until a moment later she moaned: My. Fucking. Name.

My cock went hard at the association. My butterfly wanted a daddy? She’d get one.

And then I’d banished the thought, so fucking angry, once again, that she was my stepsister. That as much as I wanted to climb into that bed with her and pull her into my arms, spread those toned thighs wide and massage her pussy until it glistened for me, Icouldn’t.She was my stepsister, and I needed to stay away from her—practically impossible when she had been there all the time, flitting around in beautiful circles, taunting me, just out of reach.

It filled me with so much anger, and I transferred it into my anger at her for stealing my skates. Because the only thing I allowed myself to love was hockey, and now she was intruding on that, too—like a butterfly perching on a pair of skates and completely changing their purpose—a symbol of shelter, not aggression.

So I’d continued to set out to destroy her, even as I got more tangled in her web, hiding my feelings from our parents, from my father’s knowing, disapproving eyes. Hating her as much as I?—

I banished the four-letter word before it entered my head, instead sighing as I thought back on that day.

I hadn’t realized how jealous and bitter Tiffany had become until Leslie was standing in front of all of us at the pool, naked. I’d been livid. I’d wanted to cover her in a towel, pick her up in my arms, and carry her inside where no one could see her or hurt her, ever again. But if I had, everyone would have seen right through me, and I couldn’t give those vultures that kind of ammunition against me. Instead, I stood there and seethed. Leslie must have thought I was angry at her.

And then she yelled at me.

And then she left.

I’d fucked up, badly. Thought I’d wanted one thing, when it turned out I needed something else entirely.

I stood in her empty bedroom, feeling a loss like I hadn’t felt since my mom had died.

And swore right then and there that I wouldn’t suffer that loss twice. I couldn’t keep my mother, but a butterfly could be pinned down, kept—safe and close by.

My father interrupted my thoughts when he stood in the doorway.

“What did you do, Mason?” he asked, his voice quiet.

I shook my head, not bothering to answer.

“I know it was you,” he said, voice no longer quiet, but laced with frustration. “I don’t know what you did, but I know you did something. Mason, I swear, if you hurt that girl…”

I’d done more than hurt her. I’d tormented her, terrorized her. And, if I were honest, I wasn’t done. Leslie wasn’t going to like my tactics, even if the end result made it worth it.

“I’ll make it right,” I swore—to my father, and to me.

“You better.” With a last look, he left the room.

I picked up a pillow on the bed, smelling it. It smelled like flowers and sunshine.

Iwouldmake it right. Leslie was mine, and that meant I’d do everything I could to make her realize it, so we could be together.I was done with protecting my image; it wasn’t worth losing her over.

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