IN LOVE WITH MY STEPSON

2. Reminiscence

WILLIAMS

I paused and clutched the bag in my hand tightly, leaning on the wall behind me for support. Sasha was Dad's girlfriend? Hell no. How on earth was that even possible?

The silence between us lingered. Neither of us wanted to speak first. Sweat formed on her forehead and started to roll down her cheek. She looked just as frozen as I felt.

Dad finally broke the silence.

“I’ll call Harriet to clean up the mess. Is something wrong?” he asked, walking toward her.

I flinched and looked away, fixing my eyes on the broken tray pieces scattered on the floor. I couldn’t bear the sight of him touching the same lips, the same waist, that once belonged to me.

“I’m fine, ba… baby,” Sasha stammered, stealing a quick glance at me as she said the last word.

I watched him press a kiss to her forehead, his hand sliding down to her chest, and I narrowed my eyes in disgust. Sasha’s body tensed, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. She didn’t want me there. And yet, here I was.

“This is Williams, my son,” Dad said, beaming like a fool.

“Willie, Sasha’s been looking forward to meeting you. I’m glad you’re finally home.”

If only he knew.

“Sasha. Beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” I said, forcing a grin. “I hope you’ll be a good wife to Dad… and a fabulous stepmum to me.”

Her eyes met mine, and I saw the panic behind them. She flinched, biting her lip the way she used to when she felt cornered. The guilt on her face was loud. She couldn’t even hold my gaze.

I remembered how she left that morning without a goodbye. I thought she’d just gone out to get groceries. I waited for hours, only to receive a text.

“Don’t call this number anymore.”

That was it. No explanation, just a message saying I was too good for her.

Now it all made sense. I was too good, and Dad was just flawed enough to match her perfectly. What a damn story.

“Of course, she’ll be the best wife ever!” Dad said with a proud chuckle, kissing her quickly.

Poor old man. He had no idea he was building a future with the woman who left me shattered.

“Lunch is served,” Sasha said softly.

Her voice. God, it still did things to me. That soft tone, that effortless pull—it sent a chill straight down my spine, the way her whispers once did in the dark. I was still in love with her. Pathetically so.

“I hope you two get along sooner rather than later,” Dad said between bites of his food.

Get along? I hadn’t even recovered from the shock of seeing her again, and now he wanted us to become buddies? That wasn’t just unrealistic—it was cruel.

Later that evening, I found myself standing at her door. She looked up the moment she saw me, caught off guard.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

I didn’t answer. I just walked in, dropped into the sofa, and buried my face in my hands. My head was pounding.

“You shouldn’t be here," she muttered. “Your dad and I are a thing now.”

“But…” I looked up and caught her eyes before she quickly turned away. “He told us to get along,” I said dryly, mocking his words.

“You know… I kept wondering what really happened. Why you left like that. Why I waited for you and all I got was a text. What went wrong?”

She looked down at the floor. Her fingers fidgeted. I could tell she was holding something back.

"Some things are better left unsaid, Willie."

Willie!

That was how she truncated my name when I was inside of her, back in Texas—when her body writhed beneath mine and the only word she could manage was my name, breathless and broken. The way she used to moan it into my ear, soft and desperate, like it was the only thing grounding her.

Hearing her say it again, now, hit something raw inside me.

The air between us thickened. I moved without thinking, stepping closer, brushing a tear from her cheek with the back of my hand. The soft light from the window washed over her skin, highlighting every perfect detail. She still wore the silver bracelet I gave her—the one I saved three paychecks for. She never took it off.

“How did you end up with him?” I asked, my voice lower now.

“You should leave,” she said, pulling away, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Whatever happened between us is in the past. Your dad is intentional about me. I won’t ruin what we have for anything.”

I stood there, quiet, stunned. My eyes dropped to the strap on her top, resting gently over the scar I used to kiss while her chest rose and fell, all I could think about was how much I missed touching her. How wrong it felt to want her now—but I still did.

“Leave now.” She tapped my shoulder and motioned to the door.

“I’ll come back.” I stood up, brushing the crumbs from the cushion off my jeans. I gave her one last look before walking out and slamming the door behind me.

Torture. That’s what this was.

Dad—my own father—was marrying the only woman who had ever broken me like this. The only woman who still had power over me.

I was stuck here in Chicago for a year. My clothing brand had just launched a new branch, and I was in charge of recruitment and management. There was no escaping it.

Getting my own apartment wasn’t even an option. Dad would never allow it. He was thrilled we had time to bond. And his mansion? Too luxurious to give up without a reason. He would take it personally.

So here I was. Trapped under the same roof with her.

I paced around my room, running my hands through my hair. Her laugh echoed in my memory and her scent lingered in the hallway like it used to on my sheets.

I spotted something on my desk—a worn keychain with our initials. W + S. Always. She gave it to me months before everything fell apart. I picked it up and ran my thumb across the engraving.

I stared at it for a long moment.

“W + S. Always.”

Lies.

I exhaled hard and rubbed my eyes with both palms.

Everything was getting to me.

And deep down, I knew this wasn’t over.