Between The Lies

Chapter 7: When Everything Falls Apart

LUCA

I'm still sitting on my bed, staring at my door, trying to process what just happened, when I hear it.

The garage door opening.

No. No, no, no.

I jump up and look out my window. Sure enough, there's Dad's black Mercedes pulling into the driveway. Mom's Range Rover right behind it.

They're home.

My parents are home.

The timing couldn't be worse. Five minutes ago, I kissed my sister. Five minutes ago, Stella ran from my room in tears. Five minutes ago, everything we thought we knew about each other exploded into something we can't take back.

And now I have to go downstairs and pretend everything is normal.

I hear the front door open. Voices. Mom's laugh. Dad's deep greeting.

"Kids! We're home!"

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Then another. I need to pull myself together. Need to be the perfect son. Need to act like my entire world didn't just shift on its axis.

I open my door and head downstairs.

Mom sees me first. Catherine Harrison is beautiful at forty-five, all elegant lines and designer clothes even after a fourteen-hour flight. She drops her purse and opens her arms.

"Luca! Oh, sweetheart, I missed you!"

I let her hug me, breathing in her familiar perfume. "Missed you too, Mom. What are you doing home? I thought you weren't back until next week."

"The Tokyo deal closed early." Dad appears behind her, tall and imposing in his business suit. Richard Harrison looks like he walked out of a CEO catalog. "We decided to surprise you kids. Where's your sister?"

As if on cue, Stella's door opens upstairs.

I don't look. Can't look. If I look at her right now, after what we just did, Mom and Dad will know something's wrong.

"Stella, baby!" Mom's already heading for the stairs. "Come here!"

I finally glance up.

Stella's standing at the top of the stairs, and she looks wrecked. Her eyes are red, her face is pale, and she's gripping the railing like it's the only thing keeping her upright.

But she forces a smile. "Mom! Dad! You're home!"

She comes down the stairs, and Mom wraps her in a hug. "We missed you so much! How are you? How's school? How's dance?"

"Good. Everything's good." Stella's voice is too bright. Too forced. "I didn't know you were coming home."

"Surprise!" Dad hugs her too. "We have the whole weekend. I want to hear everything. How are my kids doing?"

Stella's eyes flick to me for just a second. One brief, devastating second.

Then she looks away.

"We're fine," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "Same as always."

STELLA

I can't breathe.

I'm sitting at the dinner table—our fancy dining room that we never use unless Mom and Dad are home—and I can't breathe.

Mom ordered Thai takeout because she's too tired to cook and too guilty to make us cook. Dad is talking about the Tokyo merger. Luca is responding with all the right words, looking perfectly normal.

And I'm falling apart.

I kissed my brother.

No. He kissed me.

No. We kissed each other.

The memory keeps replaying in my head. His hands on my face. His lips on mine. The way it felt like everything I'd been missing without knowing I was missing it.

The way it felt right and wrong and perfect and terrible all at once.

"Stella? Honey?"

I look up. Mom is watching me with concern. "Are you okay? You've barely touched your food."

"I'm fine. Just tired." The lie comes easily now. "Long week at school."

"How's dance going? Is the recital coming up soon?"

"Next month. It's... it's good."

"And how are your friends? That sweet girl Mia?"

"She's good. Everyone's good."

I can feel Luca watching me from across the table. Feel the weight of his gaze. But I don't look at him. Can't look at him.

If I look at him, I'll remember. And if I remember, I'll break.

"What about boys?" Dad asks with that forced casual tone fathers use. "Anyone we should know about?"

I almost laugh. Almost cry. Almost scream.

"No, Dad. No boys."

Just my brother. Just the one person I can never have.

"Good," Dad says. "You're too young for that anyway."

The irony is suffocating.

"Actually," Luca says suddenly, and my heart stops. "Derek Mitchell asked her out. Basketball captain. Good guy."

Why is he bringing up Derek? Why now?

"And what did you say?" Mom asks me.

"I said no." I finally look at Luca, and the pain in his eyes nearly destroys me. "I'm not interested in Derek."

"Why not?" Dad frowns. "If he's a good kid—"

"I'm just not interested in anyone right now, okay?" The words come out sharper than I mean them to. "Can we please talk about something else?"

Silence falls over the table. Mom and Dad exchange one of their looks. The kind that says they're communicating without words.

"Stella," Mom says gently. "Is everything alright? You seem... upset."

"I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine."

"Well, I am. I'm just tired. School is stressful. Dance is stressful. Everything is stressful." I stand up abruptly. "I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well. Can I be excused?"

"Of course, honey." Mom looks worried now. "Do you want me to come up? We can talk—"

"No. I just need to sleep." I don't wait for permission. I'm already moving toward the stairs. "Goodnight."

I hear them talking as I climb the stairs. Low, concerned voices. They'll probably blame jet lag for my behavior. Or teenage hormones. Or stress.

They'll never guess the truth.

That I kissed my brother and liked it.

That I've been feeling things I shouldn't feel for months.

That I'm so confused and scared and overwhelmed I can barely function.

I lock my bedroom door and sink onto my bed, pulling my knees to my chest.

My phone buzzes.

Luca: I'm sorry.

Luca: God, Stella, I'm so sorry.

Luca: This is my fault. All of it.

Luca: Please talk to me.

I stare at the messages, tears streaming down my face.

What am I supposed to say? That I'm not sorry? That I wanted it? That even now, knowing how wrong it is, I can still feel his lips on mine and I want more?

I can't say any of that.

So I say nothing.

LUCA

Sunday is torture.

Mom wants to do "family things." Brunch at our favorite restaurant. Shopping downtown. A movie. All the activities we used to do when they were home more, before their business consumed their lives.

And through all of it, Stella won't look at me.

She sits as far from me as possible at brunch. Walks ahead with Mom while I'm stuck with Dad at the shops. Chooses the seat next to Mom at the movies, leaving me on the end.

Every avoidance is a knife.

Mom notices. I can see it in the way she watches Stella, in the worried glances she shoots Dad when she thinks we're not looking.

"Is everything okay between you two?" she asks me while Stella is in the bathroom at the restaurant.

"What do you mean?"

"You and your sister. You seem... distant."

If only she knew how not distant we were last night.

"We're fine," I lie. "Just teenage stuff. You know how it is."

"Luca." She puts her hand on mine. "I know we're not around as much as we should be. And I know that puts pressure on you to look after Stella. But if something's wrong, you can tell me."

"Nothing's wrong, Mom. I promise."

The lie tastes like ash.

Stella comes back, and the conversation ends. But Mom keeps watching us. Keeps trying to figure out what she's missing.

If she ever found out the truth, it would destroy her.

STELLA

By Sunday night, I'm exhausted from pretending.

We're in the living room—all four of us—watching some movie Dad picked. Mom is curled up next to him on one couch. Luca and I are on opposite ends of the other couch, an ocean of space between us.

I can feel him looking at me. Keep feeling his gaze like a physical touch.

I stare at the TV and see nothing.

"Stella, honey." Mom pauses the movie. "Can we talk? In the kitchen?"

My stomach drops. "About what?"

"Just come with me."

I follow her to the kitchen, my heart pounding.

She turns to face me, concern written all over her features. "Baby, what's going on? And don't tell me nothing. I'm your mother. I can tell when something's wrong."

"I'm just stressed—"

"Is it Luca?" she asks gently. "Did you two have a fight?"

Yes. No. We did something so much worse than fight.

"No, Mom. We didn't fight."

"Then what is it? Because you've barely spoken to him all weekend. You won't even look at him. Did he do something to hurt you?"

Everything. He did everything. He made me feel things I shouldn't feel. He kissed me and made me realize I've been lying to myself for months.

"He didn't do anything wrong," I say, and my voice cracks. "It's me. It's all me."

"What do you mean?"

"I just..." How do I explain this without explaining this? "I'm confused about some stuff. About feelings. About what's normal and what's not."

Mom's expression softens. "Is this about a boy?"

I almost laugh. Almost cry.

"Something like that."

"Oh, sweetheart." She pulls me into a hug. "Growing up is complicated. Feelings are complicated. Whatever you're going through, it's normal. I promise."

But it's not normal. Nothing about this is normal.

I hug her back and let myself cry. Let her think these are normal teenage tears about normal teenage problems.

"It's going to be okay," she murmurs. "Whatever it is, it's going to be okay."

But I don't believe her.

Because how can it be okay when I'm in love with my brother?

The thought crystallizes in my mind with devastating clarity.

I'm in love with Luca.

Not like a sister loves a brother. But really, truly, impossibly in love with him.

And that realization is the thing that finally breaks me completely.

LUCA

Monday morning comes too soon and not soon enough.

Mom and Dad are packing, getting ready to head back to the airport for another three-week trip to Singapore. The house will be empty again. Just me and Stella and the secret that's destroying us both.

I watch Stella say goodbye to them. She clings to Mom a little longer than usual. Dad ruffles her hair and tells her to call if she needs anything.

They tell me to look after her.

The irony would be funny if it wasn't so painful.

And then they're gone.

The house falls silent.

Stella stands in the entryway, staring at the door they just left through. I stand in the living room doorway, staring at her.

"Stella," I say quietly. "We need to talk about—"

"No." She doesn't turn around. "We don't."

"We can't just pretend it didn't happen."

"Why not? That's what we've been doing all weekend."

"That's different. Mom and Dad were here. But now it's just us, and we need to—"

"I can't." Her voice breaks. "I can't talk about it right now, Luca. I can't even think about it without—" She stops. Takes a shaky breath. "I need time."

"How much time?"

"I don't know. Just... time."

She finally turns to look at me, and the devastation on her face mirrors everything I feel.

"I'm scared," she whispers. "I'm so scared of what this means. Of what I'm feeling. Of what we did."

"I know. I'm scared too."

"But you're not surprised." It's not a question. "You've known how you felt. For how long?"

I could lie. Should lie.

"Months," I admit. "Since... since I don't even know when. It just happened gradually and then all at once."

"And you didn't say anything."

"How could I? You're my sister, Stella. What was I supposed to say? 'Hey, I know this is completely wrong and messed up, but I'm in love with you'?"

The words hang in the air between us.

In love with you.

I said it. Finally said it out loud.

Stella's eyes fill with tears. "Don't. Please don't say that."

"Why not? It's true."

"Because it can't be true. Because we're—" Her voice breaks. "We're siblings, Luca. This isn't—we can't—"

"I know. Believe me, I know. You think I haven't been telling myself that for months? You think I haven't hated myself for feeling this way?"

"Then why did you kiss me?"

"Because you said you wanted me to. Because I'm weak and selfish and I couldn't stand the thought of one more second of pretending I don't feel what I feel."

She's crying now. Really crying. "This is wrong. Everything about this is wrong."

"I know."

"So what do we do?"

I have no answer for that. No solution. No way to fix what we've broken.

"I don't know," I admit. "But we'll figure it out. Together."

"How? How do we figure out something like this?"

"I don't know, Stella. I just know that I can't lose you. Not now. Not ever."

"You're my brother," she says, and it sounds like she's trying to convince herself. "You'll always be my brother. That can't change."

But everything else already has.

We stand there in the silent house, an ocean of space between us and a secret that could destroy everything.

And neither of us knows what happens next.