My Stepbrother’s Obsession

4.

Chapter 4: Fault Lines

The morning sun filters through my blinds, but it doesn’t feel like a new day. It feels heavy, like yesterday didn’t really end. I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor, trying to shake off the strange knot in my chest from overhearing Skye last night. Her words keep playing in my head.

He doesn’t get to tell me how to feel.

I rub my hands over my face and let out a breath. She’s not wrong. I don’t know what she’s been through or what it’s like to have her life turned upside down. Still, hearing her say it out loud stung more than I thought it would.

I grab a hoodie from the chair and head downstairs, hoping to avoid her for a while. But as soon as I hit the kitchen, there she is, standing at the counter with a bowl of cereal in her hands. She doesn’t notice me at first, too focused on the milk she’s pouring, and for a second, I think about sneaking back upstairs.

But then she glances up, and her eyes meet mine.

“Morning,” I say, trying to sound casual.

“Morning,” she replies, her tone neutral. She doesn’t look angry, but she doesn’t look happy either.

I grab a cup from the cabinet and pour myself some coffee. The silence stretches between us, thick and awkward, until I can’t take it anymore.

“Look, about yesterday,” I start, leaning against the counter. “I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

She stirs her cereal, not looking at me. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” I say, my voice firm. “I heard what you said to your mom last night.”

Her hand freezes, and she looks up at me, her eyes wide. “You were eavesdropping?”

“I didn’t mean to,” I say quickly. “I was walking past your room, and… I heard you.”

Her cheeks flush, and she sets the bowl down on the counter. “Great. So now you know what I really think.”

“I’m not mad,” I say, holding up my hands. “You have every right to feel how you feel. I just… I don’t want you to think I’m trying to make your life harder.”

She crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Then stop treating me like I’m some kind of charity case.”

I blink, taken aback. “Charity case? I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” she interrupts. “Every time you look at me, it’s like you’re waiting for me to break or something. I don’t need you to feel sorry for me, Levi.”

Her words hit harder than I expect, and I find myself at a loss for what to say. She doesn’t wait for me to respond, grabbing her bowl and heading for the sink.

“Skye—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says, her back to me.

I watch as she rinses her bowl and sets it on the drying rack. Without another word, she leaves the kitchen, and I’m left standing there, my coffee untouched.

The rest of the morning drags. Edward leaves for a meeting in the city, and the house feels too quiet without him stomping around. I try to distract myself, flipping through the channels on the TV, but nothing holds my attention. My thoughts keep drifting back to Skye and the look on her face when she told me off.

By the time lunch rolls around, I’ve had enough. I grab my jacket and head outside, hoping the crisp air will clear my head.

The yard is empty, except for the old swing set near the fence. It creaks slightly in the breeze, a sound that’s both eerie and oddly comforting. I make my way over, sitting on one of the swings and kicking at the dirt beneath my feet.

I’m not sure how long I sit there before I hear footsteps behind me. I turn to see Skye walking toward me, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket.

“What are you doing out here?” she asks, her tone less sharp than before.

“Thinking,” I say, gesturing to the empty swing next to me. “Want to join?”

She hesitates for a moment before sitting down, her movements careful, like she’s testing the waters.

We sit in silence for a while, the only sound the creak of the swings and the rustle of the wind in the trees.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” she says finally, her voice soft.

I glance at her, surprised. “You didn’t?”

She shakes her head, her gaze fixed on the ground. “I mean, I was mad, but… I know you’re not trying to make things harder for me. It just feels like… like everything’s out of my control, you know?”

I nod, my hands gripping the chains of the swing. “Yeah, I get that.”

She looks at me then, her eyes searching mine. “Do you?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “More than you know. My whole life, I’ve had people telling me who to be, what to do. I’ve spent so much time trying to live up to everyone else’s expectations, I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

She tilts her head, her expression softening. “That’s… kind of sad.”

“Yeah, well,” I say, kicking at the dirt again. “It is what it is.”

We fall silent again, but this time, it feels less awkward.

“Why do you do it?” she asks after a while.

“Do what?”

“Act like you don’t care about anything,” she says, her voice quiet.

I stare at the ground, the question catching me off guard. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s easier that way.”

She doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her watching me, waiting for me to say more.

“I guess…” I start, my voice barely above a whisper. “I guess if I act like I don’t care, then it doesn’t hurt as much when things fall apart.”

Her expression softens even more, and for the first time, I see a flicker of understanding in her eyes.

“I get that,” she says, her voice just as quiet.

For a moment, we just sit there, two broken people trying to make sense of the mess around us.

By the time we head back inside, it feels like something has shifted between us. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

We spend the rest of the day avoiding Edward’s looming presence, sharing small conversations here and there. It’s not much, but it feels… different.

As I lie in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I can’t shake the feeling that this is just the beginning.

Whatever’s happening between us, it’s pulling me in deeper than I ever expected. And for the first time, I’m not sure I want to pull away.