step brother rules

Chapter 8: Keeping Score

Chapter 8: Keeping Score

Sneaking around in your own house turned out to be a lot harder than either of them expected.

It had been two weeks since that first night, and Mara had learned an uncomfortable amount about the architecture of secrets — which stairs creaked, which doors needed a shoulder to close quietly, how long you could hold eye contact across a dinner table before your mother started asking questions.

"You two have been getting along well," Diane observed one evening, passing the salad bowl with a look that was a little too pleased with itself. "I was worried, honestly. Blending families this fast, at your ages — I thought there'd be more friction."

"We found a rhythm," Jonah said, not quite meeting Mara's eyes across the table, though his knee brushed hers under it in a way that felt anything but sibling-appropriate.

"Good rhythm," Robert added, oblivious, reaching for more chili. "You should see them in the kitchen. Like they've known each other for years."

Mara nearly choked on her water.

Later, once the dishes were done and their parents had retreated to the living room, Jonah caught her in the hallway, tugging her by the wrist into the shadow beside the stairs, out of sightline from the living room doorway.

"Your face," he murmured, grinning, "when my dad said 'good rhythm.'"

"It's not funny. We almost got caught before we even started."

"We didn't get caught." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, an easy, familiar gesture that had become second nature faster than she wanted to admit. "We're being careful."

"We held hands under the table, Jonah."

"For exactly four seconds, and nobody was looking." He leaned in, voice dropping. "I'll take the risk. Four seconds of your hand in mine is worth it."

Despite herself, she softened, the tension in her shoulders easing at the warmth in his voice. This was the hardest part, she was learning — not the guilt, not even the fear of getting caught, but how easily she wanted to stop being careful at all, how much simpler it would be to just tell the truth and let the consequences land where they landed.

"How long do you think we can keep doing this?" she asked. "Realistically."

"I don't know." Jonah's expression sobered slightly, the teasing edge falling away. "I've been thinking about that too. We can't hide forever. Eventually somebody notices — Pete already half-guessed at the wedding, remember."

"Pete guesses everything. He probably also thinks the mailman is a spy."

"Fair. But my point stands." He took her hand properly now, lacing their fingers together in the dim hallway light. "I don't want to sneak around for the next year, Mara. I want to be able to sit next to you at dinner without doing math on whether my knee touching yours is a security risk."

"So what — we just tell them? 'Hey, congratulations on your marriage, by the way, your kids have been sleeping together for two weeks'?" The bluntness of it made her stomach twist. "They'll think we ruined it before it even started. They'll think we don't take their marriage seriously."

"Or they'll understand that things happen, and that we're adults, and that this isn't some fling that's going to blow up their lives." His voice was steady, more certain than she felt. "I'm not saying tomorrow. I'm saying eventually. I don't want to build something with you that has to live entirely in secret."

The weight of what he was asking for settled over her — not just secrecy now, but a future, however undefined, that required honesty she wasn't sure either of them was ready to give.

"I need more time," she said finally. "Not to decide about us. About that—" she gestured vaguely between them, "—I think I already know. I need time to figure out how to tell them without breaking something that matters more than either of us."

"Take the time." He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, soft, patient in a way that made the whole situation feel a little less impossible. "I'm not going anywhere. Rule two, remember?"

"Rule two," she echoed.

From the living room, Robert's laugh boomed out at something on the TV, followed by Diane's quieter answering laugh, and Mara felt the familiar tightening in her chest — equal parts guilt and hope, the two feelings she was starting to suspect she'd be carrying in equal measure for a long time to come.

"For the record," Jonah added, quieter, "Pete probably does think the mailman is a spy. But he was right about us. Just saying."

Mara swatted his arm, laughing despite herself, and let him pull her in for one more stolen moment before they had to go back to pretending, at least for tonight, that nothing between them had changed at all.