Between The Lies

Chapter 17: Unraveling

STELLA

I'm still in my room, staring at the ceiling, when I hear the doorbell ring.

My stomach drops. Something about the timing feels wrong.

Mom's voice floats up the stairs. "I'll get it!"

I hear the door open, then Mom's surprised tone. "Derek! What a nice surprise. Come in, come in."

No. No, no, no.

I sit up, panic flooding through me. What is he doing here?

"Is Stella home?" Derek's voice. Casual. Friendly. Like nothing happened.

"She is! Let me get her. Stella!" Mom calls up the stairs. "Derek's here!"

I close my eyes, trying to breathe. After what happened Thursday night—the wine, him trying to pressure me—I never wanted to see him again.

But I can't hide in my room. Not without raising suspicion.

I force myself off the bed, check my reflection. My eyes are still puffy from crying, but there's nothing I can do about that now.

When I get downstairs, Derek is in the living room with Mom. He's holding flowers—daisies again.

The sight of them makes my stomach turn.

"Hey, Stella." His smile is sheepish. Apologetic. "Can we talk?"

Mom looks between us, clearly sensing tension. "I'll give you two some privacy. Stella, your father and I will be in the kitchen if you need anything."

She leaves, and suddenly it's just me and Derek.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, not moving from the stairs.

"I wanted to apologize." He steps closer and I automatically step back. "About Thursday night. I was out of line. I shouldn't have pushed like that."

"No. You shouldn't have."

"I just thought—we've been dating for a while and I thought you wanted—" He runs his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, okay? I misread the situation. But we can work past this, right? We're good together, Stella."

"No, Derek. We're not."

His face falls. "Come on, don't be like this. One mistake and you're just going to throw away what we have?"

"One mistake?" My voice rises before I can stop it. "You got me drunk on purpose. You kept pouring wine and telling me to relax, and when I was barely coherent, you tried to—" I stop, my hands shaking. "You know exactly what you did."

"I didn't force you to drink. You chose to—"

"I trusted you!" The words explode out of me. "I trusted you and you took advantage of that. You knew I didn't want to sleep with you yet and you tried to manipulate me into it."

"That's not what happened—"

"That's exactly what happened. And I'm done, Derek. We're done."

"Is this about your brother?" His voice turns sharp, accusatory. "He's always been weird about us. Did he tell you not to see me?"

My blood runs cold. "What?"

"Luca. He's always giving me these looks, like he doesn't want me around you. Is he the one who put this in your head?"

"Luca didn't put anything in my head. He came and got me when I called him crying because I was scared of what you might do. He protected me when I needed him."

"Protected you? From what? I wouldn't have hurt you, Stella. I care about you."

"If you cared about me, you wouldn't have done what you did." I wrap my arms around myself. "You need to leave. Now."

Mom appears in the doorway, clearly having heard raised voices. "Is everything alright?"

"Derek was just leaving." I look at him pointedly. "And he's not going to come back. Ever."

For a moment, he just stares at me. Then something hardens in his expression.

"You know what? Fine. I tried to be nice, tried to apologize, but if you're going to be a b***h about it—"

"Excuse me?" Mom's voice cuts through the air like a knife. "I think you need to leave. Right now."

Derek looks at Mom, then back at me. He drops the flowers on the coffee table.

"Whatever. Your loss."

He storms out, slamming the door behind him.

The silence that follows is deafening.

"Stella." Mom's voice is gentle but firm. "What happened Thursday night?"

I can't look at her. Can't face the concern in her eyes.

"He tried to pressure me into sleeping with him. Got me drunk on wine and then... but I left before anything happened. I called Luca and he came to get me."

Mom's face goes pale, then red with fury. "He did what?"

"It's fine. Nothing happened."

"Nothing happened? Stella, that's—" She stops, takes a breath. "Why didn't you tell us when you got home?"

Because I was too busy sleeping with my brother instead.

The thought makes me want to vomit.

"I just wanted to forget about it."

Mom pulls me into a hug and I let her, even though it makes me want to cry. Even though I don't deserve her comfort.

"Thank god Luca was there," she says quietly. "Thank god you had him to call."

If only she knew what happened after. If only she knew what we did.

"Yeah," I whisper. "Thank god."

LUCA

I can't stay in this house.

Every time I see Stella, every time our parents mention us together, every time someone says we're lucky to have each other—it's like a knife twisting in my chest.

The way Mom just thanked me for "protecting" Stella. If only she knew what I really did.

I grab my keys and head to the studio.

I need to practice. The showcase is tomorrow and I'm nowhere near ready. My head's too full of Stella, of Thursday night, of everything we've destroyed.

The studio is empty when I arrive. Good. I need space to think.

I sit at the piano, start running through my piece. But my hands are shaking, hitting wrong notes, losing the rhythm.

I can still feel her. The way she looked at me. The way she felt beneath me. The sounds she made.

The way she said "I love you" in the darkness.

I slam my fist against the keys, the discordant sound echoing through the empty room.

"Whoa, easy on the instrument."

I spin around. Jake's standing in the doorway, backpack slung over his shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, trying to compose myself.

"I woke up on your couch this morning with the worst hangover of my life. Figured I owed you a check-in." He comes closer, studying my face. "You look worse than I feel. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just stressed about tomorrow."

"Bullshit." Jake sits on the piano bench beside me. "Dude, I've known you for three years. I know when something's really wrong. What happened?"

I want to lie. Want to brush it off and pretend everything's fine.

But the weight of it is crushing me. I need to tell someone or I'm going to lose my mind.

"If I tell you something," I say slowly, "you have to promise not to judge me. And you can't tell anyone. Ever."

Jake's expression turns serious. "Luca, you're scaring me."

"Promise."

"I promise. What's going on?"

I take a breath. Then another. "Thursday night, after you passed out... Stella called me. She was at her boyfriend's house, drunk, scared. He'd tried to pressure her into sex."

"Jesus. Is she okay?"

"Yeah. I got her home. Made sure she was safe." I pause. "And then... and then I f****d everything up, Jake."

"What do you mean?"

"I slept with her." The words come out barely above a whisper. "I slept with my sister."

The silence is deafening.

Jake stares at me like I've grown a second head. "What?"

"Thursday night. After I brought her home. We... we had sex."

"Your sister." His voice is flat. Disbelieving. "Stella. Your actual, biological sister."

"Yes."

He stands up abruptly, running his hands over his face. "Holy s**t. Luca, what the f**k?"

"I know—"

"No, I don't think you do." Jake's pacing now, agitated. "How did this even—was she still drunk?"

"No. She'd sobered up by then. She was clear-headed, I made sure—"

"Clear-headed enough to decide to sleep with her brother?"

The words hit like a slap. "It's not—it's more complicated than that."

"Complicated?" Jake spins to face me. "Luca, this isn't complicated. This is insane. This is—f**k, man, this is incest. You know that, right? You understand what you did?"

"Of course I understand!" I'm standing now too. "Don't you think I know how f****d up this is? Don't you think I've been tearing myself apart about it?"

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because I love her!" The confession rips out of me. "Because I've been in love with her for months and I tried to ignore it, tried to stay away, but I can't. She's all I think about, all I want, and Thursday night when she said she felt the same way, I couldn't—I couldn't say no."

Jake stares at me, shock written across his face.

"You're in love with your sister," he says slowly, like he's trying to make sense of it.

"Yes."

"Does she... does she feel the same?"

"She said she does. She said she loves me too." I sink back onto the piano bench. "But this morning she woke up panicking. Crying. Saying how wrong it is, how f****d up we are. And she's right. God, Jake, she's right."

Jake sits down heavily beside me. "f**k. This is... this is really bad, man."

"I know."

"Does anyone else know?"

"No. Just you. Our parents came home early this morning and we had to pretend everything was normal. Derek showed up today and Stella told him it was over—told them all about what he tried to do—but if anyone finds out about us..."

"You'd both be destroyed." Jake finishes. "Your parents, your friends, school—everything would blow up."

"I know."

We sit in silence for a long moment.

"What are you going to do?" Jake asks finally.

"I don't know. I can't stay away from her. But I can't—we can't keep doing this."

"Luca." Jake's voice is gentle but firm. "You have to end this. Whatever feelings you have, you need to push them down and never act on them again."

"I don't know if I can."

"You have to. For her sake, if not yours." He puts his hand on my shoulder. "What happens if your parents find out? If someone sees something? This could destroy her life. Is that what you want?"

"Of course not—"

"Then you need to be the strong one. You need to end this before it goes any further." Jake squeezes my shoulder. "I know you love her. I can see it's tearing you apart. But the best thing you can do for her right now is to protect her. Even if that means protecting her from yourself."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut because I know he's right.

"How am I supposed to do that?" My voice cracks. "How am I supposed to just turn it off?"

"I don't know. But you have to figure it out." Jake stands. "Come on. Let's run through your piece. Take your mind off things for a bit."

We spend the next few hours working on music. Jake doesn't mention Stella again, doesn't judge me more than that initial shock.

But his words keep echoing in my head.

This could destroy her life.

He's right. Of course he's right.

I need to end this. Need to protect her.

Even if it kills me.

STELLA

After Mom finally leaves me alone, I lock myself in my room.

My phone buzzes. Luca's name appears on the screen.

Are you okay?

Three words that make my chest ache.

I stare at the message for a long time before typing back.

No. Are you?

His response comes immediately.

No. Can we talk later? After dinner?

Okay.

I'm sorry, Stella. For everything.

I don't know how to respond. Sorry for what? For sleeping with me? For loving me? For being the one person I can never have?

I put the phone down without answering.

Derek's words keep echoing in my mind. "Is this about your brother?"

He doesn't even know how right he is.

There is someone else. There's always been someone else.

My brother.

The person I can never, ever have.

My phone buzzes again. This time it's a text from an unknown number.

Hey Stella, it's Isabella Moretti. I wanted to follow up on our meeting. The summer intensive application deadline is next week. Let me know if you're interested.

The summer intensive. Eight weeks in New York. Away from here. Away from Luca.

Maybe that's what I need. Distance. Space to think. To figure out who I am when I'm not drowning in feelings I'm not supposed to have.

I text back: I'm interested. Can you send me the application details?

Her response is almost immediate: Absolutely. I'll email them tonight. I really think this could be transformative for you, Stella.

Transformative. That's one word for it.

I lie back on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

In less than twenty-four hours, everything has changed. I've gone from pretending I don't have feelings for Luca to sleeping with him to realizing we can never do it again.

And somehow, I have to sit across from him at dinner tonight and act normal.

I don't know if I can do this.

I don't know if either of us can.

But we have to try.

Because the alternative—everyone finding out the truth—would destroy us both.