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Pulling up to the parentals, I give myself a pep talk, reminding my appendage in my pants that this is not the right place to claim his pussy. I chuckle, knowing it is futile. Anytime his woman is near, he acts like a carnivorous beast. All he wants is the kitty. “Andrew, you never have to ring the bell.” my stepmom tells me as she opens and lets me in. She tells me that every time, but the truth is, this hasn’t felt like home since I turned 18 and moved out, if I am being one hundred percent honest since my mom died. Not until my May came and saved my heart from freezing.
“Son.” my dad greets me.
“Dad.” Walking in, I try to play it cool and not let on how anxious I am to see her, but I know I am doing a piss poor job. She is like the salve for my bruises. She is vital for continued health.
“She’s not here.” I hear him say from behind me. My body stiffens, preparing to fight. Wait... not here. I turn to him too quickly to school my features, and at this point, I don't care. I am half gone.
“Where is she?” I ask him, grinding my jaws.
“She is gone for a girl's weekend with her friends before leaving for school in a couple of days,” he says smugly as he takes a shot of his whiskey.
“In a couple of days? I know you are lying. She is not even set to leave for another month. Plus, she told me she hadn’t decided what she wanted to do yet.” how the hell did she go from being unsure to leaving in a few days? How do I not know this? How is it possible I am out of time, and I didn't even know the axis had shifted?
“Seems she has come to her senses, unlike you. Nothing good can come of this, Andrew. Nothing but shame and heartache. She is your sister, for fuck sake.'' I turn and look at him, no longer able to control the anger. I am sick and tired of this shit.
“For the last damn time, she is not my sister. When are you going to get it through your head? Both of you.'' I address my stepmom as well. “I fucking love her. I have since I was old enough to know what a soulmate is. There is nothing and no one that will keep her from me. If she wants to go to college, I will make sure she does. But there is no way...and let me make myself clear. There is no way she won’t be my wife. Now, you can either get on board or ghost. I don’t give two shit about your antiquated view. If you can’t be happy for us, screw you.” and with that, I limp my ass out of the door. Putting my key in the ignition, I have a moment of doubt, wondering if I am being a selfish prick. I got to go away to college and experience the world. Shouldn’t she? Hanging my head, I allow myself a moment's doubt before my mind drifts to visions of her round and lush, glowing and serene as she carries a new life inside of her. The thing that brings me back from pity land is seeing the man who wraps his arms around her isn’t me. And I am back from being a sap.
My woman. My arms. My baby.
Chapter Eight
May
I thought I was supposed to be relaxed? I mean, who goes away for a girl's spa weekend and comes back even tenser? My friends spent the weekend sipping virgin margaritas and going to spas and yoga. Me, I spent it looking at photos of Drew and me, doing what I do best...longing. Before I knew it, the weekend was over, and I was driving back home no more relaxed or sure of what I was going to do.
My mind won’t stop going over and over the last few weeks. Really, the last few years. I think back on all the times I could swear he felt for me what I do for him. But I could count just as many times I was sure he felt nothing but brotherly love. On autopilot, I don’t realize my direction has changed until I am in front of his house knocking. I know I could just walk in, but this doesn’t seem like the time for that. My body is jittery in anticipation of seeing him after so long. Losing my nerve, I am about to turn and walk away when I hear the locks. He opens the door, and my breath leaves me.
“Valentine,” he says, opening the door.
“H-hi. Stop calling me that.” is all I can think to say without sounding like an idiot. “I need to talk to you.” he motions for me to come in. I have been coming to his home for years, mostly to just hang out, but I have also cooked here for him. Somehow, right now, walking in here to tell him how I feel about him, makes me uncertain. His ace gives away nothing as we walk toward the living room. I know he can read me, but right now, I have no clue which part of me is seeping through.
