Bombshell
The silence in the dining room was louder than Jason’s drunken shouting had been.
"Babe, he doesn’t mean it," Collins murmured, his hand hovering over my mother’s shoulder. I didn't stay to hear her response. I couldn't stand the way her eyes pleaded for a scrap of acceptance from a boy who had spent the last hour calling her an opportunist.
I took the stairs two at a time, my heels clicking against the hardwood. I trailed my fingers along the banister, passing a portrait of Collins Milburn. He looked so composed, his dark eyes a sharp, stable contrast to the chaotic sea-blue of his son's.
The hallway was a black hole. I navigated by memory until I slammed into something that didn't give. A statue. A wall. No something breathing.
"Watch it, Blondie."
I rolled my eyes, though he couldn't see it. I fumbled against the wallpaper. "Move, Jason. I’m trying to find the switch."
"If you actually had eyes, you'd know there isn't one there," he rasped, his voice thick with bourbon. "You’re just wobbling in the dark. Suits you."
"Why are you so bitter?" I snapped, my heart starting to hammer against my ribs. "You ruined her night. You’re pathetic, Jason. I don’t want to be in this depressing house any more than you want me here."
He stepped closer. The scent of expensive whiskey and that damn signature watermelon bubblegum hit me all at once. "You don't say. Funny,you never seemed to mind this house when you were screaming my name in the guest suite."
My breath hitched. He bridged the gap, his body a wall of heat. He traced the line of my lower lip with his thumb, forcing them apart with a slow, deliberate pressure that made my knees weak.
"Jason, stop," I whispered, though I didn't move. "We can’t do this anymore."
"Why? Because we're 'family' now?"
"You know the circumstances. I won't ruin this for my mom. She finally feels safe."
"Eliza, listen to yourself."
"I am listening, Jason! We're siblings. Everyone in Atlanta knows it now."
"Step siblings," he growled, his hand sliding from my chin to the back of my neck, pulling me just an inch closer. "And you can’t resist the taste of me any more than you can stop your heart from racing right now. You want the warmth. You want me to touch you exactly where …"
"You're drunk," I gasped, shoving against his chest. I turned to bolt toward my room, but his hand clamped around my wrist.
"This has to end, Jason," I hissed.
"What has to end?"
The voice came from the top of the stairs. My mother. She was standing there, a shadow in the dim light, her eyes darting between my flushed face and Jason’s grip on my arm.
"Your marriage, Laurel," Jason said, his voice turning icecold as he released me. He brushed past me without a second glance, the door to his room slamming shut hard enough to rattle the frames on the wall.
My mother looked at me, her face pale. "Do you want me to walk you to your room, baby?"
I looked at the woman who had traded my peace for a Milburn last name. "I think I already know my way around. Thanks for making my life a living hell, Mom."
