Falling For My Hockey Stepbrother

Consuming Me

He. Was. Everywhere.

And I mean everywhere! Looking too delicious for my mental wellness.

At school? He was there, looking like a playboy who didn't pay any mind to the girls that surrounded him like bees to honey.

At the café? Yeah, he was there, alright. Ordering coffee, sitting by the window, and working on his laptop.

And at home? He was there too, but not much, and he never stayed long.

And you want to know the best and worst part? He never pays any attention to me. Since that day I ignored his gaze in the hall, he has never looked my way again. I didn't know how to feel about that.

I was conflicted, to say the least, and being conflicted wasn't good. I should know where I stand and be sure of it, not swaying like a leaf stuck on a tree branch, pushed around by the wind.

Was this another lesson from Miss Universe? I learned the last one perfectly, so I didn't need another lesson, thank you very much.

By the end of the second week, we were under the same roof again, but this time for hours, unlike the mere minutes he usually spent at the house.

Lilian had called for a family dinner, saying we all needed to spend more time together. I didn't like it, but I couldn't refuse, so I took the evening off from work. So here we all are, in the kitchen, acting like the perfect little family,

The keyword in that sentence was ‘acting.’ Because that is what this was.

It’s like we were all trying hard not to let Lilian notice the tension between all three of us, and either she’s oblivious, or she notices and decides not to let it ruin her spirit, because she kept humming as she baked and moved around the kitchen while we served as her assistants.

She was honestly sweet, pure, and out of all the women my father has gotten married to, I liked her more, even though I tell myself not to, and it’ll end the same way as all the other three before her.

“Oh, bugger!” she said suddenly, smacking her palm into her forehead, and staining it with flour. “I forgot the pork!”

“I’ll go get it,” Jackson rushed to say, but she shook her head.

“No. Don’t take your hands off that cutting board. I’ll go.”

“I’ll drive you, love,” my father offered with a sweet smile, and I almost puked.

She smiled back at him. “Alright, then. We’ll be back soon, kids! Please, don’t burn anything!”

And so… we were alone. And we were standing too close to each other on the kitchen counter, him chopping the vegetables, while I kneaded the dough.

I cleared my throat. “So… uhm, how has practice been?”

“Cool,” he answered, his voice clipped.

Huh. “How are you settling with your new team?”

“It’s so, so.”

“Found a tour guide yet?”

“No. I have to navigate the confusing halls and pathways all by myself.”

“I see.”

The knife came down again.

Chop, chop, chop, it went.

He wasn't going to give me anything, and for some stupid reason, that bothered me more than it should have.

I tried again.

“So… no one yet?”

That was a bad choice, but I just had to ask.

He didn't take his eyes off the cutting board, and I had to stare at his side profile. Not like I was complaining. It was as good as staring at his full face.

“No,” was his only answer.

My jaw clenched at the dismissal and lack of interest in his voice, but I didn't let that throw me off.

“Why not? Out of the countless Cinderellas floating around you, there should be one that fits the shoe, right?”

His expression was still blank. “There isn't.”

And thatttt did it. I slammed my fist into the dough too hard, and that was when he finally turned his head to me. “What is your problem, man?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I’m trying to make a conversation here!”

“And it’s obvious that I don't want to.”

I blinked at him. This… this…

“I’m just trying to act normal, okay? I’m trying to be a logical human being and see if we can get along as a family!”

His jaw worked, and he finally turned away from the cutting board, dropping the knife. “I don't want to be your f*****g family, Siri. Haven't I made that clear?”

“Yes, sir, you have. You have made it really clear, and I say f**k that. We’re stuck together, Jackson. Whether we accept it or not, we are stuck together until this whole thing falls apart. So till then, are we going to keep being this way to each other?”

He wasn't hesitant in his answer. “Yes.”

That hurts. I don't f*****g know why, but it hurts.

“So that’s all you want, eh?” His eyes narrowed. “You don't want to be a family. You don't want to get close to me. You don't want to get to know me!” My voice cracked. “You want to turn me into some dirty little secret you can f**k and forget! You want me to f*****g spread my legs for you like a w***e!”

His jaw was tight now, his eyes hard. He took a hard step close to me. “Don’t put words into my mouth. I never said I didn't want to know you. I said nothing about turning you into a dirty secret.”

I ignored those last two sentences and just picked what my hurt brain wanted. “But am I putting the words there? You might not say it, but the words are already there. You just want to f**k. You just want me to f*****g be your plaything!”

He slammed his fist into the counter, and I flinched.

“Plaything?” he repeated, his voice harder than I've ever had it. He took a step towards me. I took two back. “Plaything, Siri? Is that what you think this is? What you think this is going to be?”

“What else could it be, Jackson?” I asked in a whisper, all the fire going out, taking steps back as he kept walking towards me. My back hit the fridge, and I had nowhere to go. I was cornered.

There was an intense fire burning in his eyes as he placed both his hands above my head, and his scent hit me all at once. I couldn't help but notice that he smelled even more addictive now.

He stared down at me, his eyes hard. He looked pissed, but that anger wasn't directed at me.

“A plaything would mean you mean nothing,” he spat, his voice harsh. “Calling yourself a plaything is no different from saying you’re irrelevant to me. You are anything but irrelevant, Siri.”

I stared up at him, swallowing to push the lump down my throat. He leaned in, bringing that fire closer to me. He leaned so close that the tip of his nose touched mine, his eyes burning into mine.

“You’re anything but irrelevant to me,” he repeated, and though his voice was still hard, there was a tender note behind it. His voice dropped to a whisper, his eyes dropping to my lips for a brief moment. “You are everything that has been consuming me lately.”