In Love With My Half Brother

Chapter Two: Lines We Don’t Cross

The house looked different at night.

Quieter. Darker. Like it was hiding something.

Or maybe that was just how it felt walking beside him.

Jason didn’t say a word as we moved down the stairs. His footsteps were steady, controlled—like he wasn’t even slightly bothered by the fact that we might not be alone in the house.

I, on the other hand, was very aware of it.

“Are you even taking this seriously?” I whispered.

He didn’t look at me. “You’re the one who came looking.”

“I heard something,” I shot back.

“And now you’re following me,” he said calmly.

I clenched my jaw. “I’m not following you.”

“Sure.”

I resisted the urge to shove him.

Barely.

We reached the bottom of the stairs, the darkness stretching across the living room like a warning. The faint light from outside slipped through the windows, casting shadows across the walls.

Everything looked normal.

Too normal.

Jason stepped forward first, glancing around like he was actually checking for something this time.

“See anything?” I asked quietly.

“No.”

“Then what was the noise?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he moved toward the kitchen, his movements slow but deliberate. I hesitated for half a second before following him, staying just a step behind.

“I swear I heard something,” I muttered.

“Maybe you’re just paranoid.”

I scoffed under my breath. “Or maybe you’re just annoying.”

That earned me a small glance.

Not angry.

Not amused either.

Just… something in between.

We stepped into the kitchen, and that’s when I saw it.

The back door.

Slightly open.

A cold breeze slipped through the gap, brushing against my skin.

“Jason…” I said, my voice dropping.

He followed my gaze, his expression tightening just a little.

“Did your dad leave that open?” he asked.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” I said, more firmly this time. “He always locks it.”

For the first time since I met him, Jason looked… alert.

Not relaxed.

Not careless.

Focused.

He walked toward the door slowly, pushing it open just a bit more and glancing outside into the darkness.

I stayed where I was, my heart pounding.

“Well?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said after a moment.

“That’s not comforting.”

He turned back, shutting the door and locking it properly this time. “Probably just the wind.”

“The wind doesn’t unlock doors.”

He leaned back against the counter, folding his arms again. “Then what do you think it is?”

I opened my mouth—

And stopped.

Because I didn’t have an answer.

The silence stretched between us, heavier now.

Different.

I exhaled slowly. “I don’t know.”

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then—

“Come on,” he said.

I frowned. “Where?”

“Living room.”

“Why?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You want to stand here all night?”

I hesitated… then shook my head and followed him back out.

We didn’t turn on the lights.

I don’t know why.

Maybe because the darkness felt… safer somehow.

Less real.

Jason dropped onto the couch like he belonged there, stretching one arm across the back. I stayed standing for a moment, watching him.

“You’re really not bothered by any of this, are you?” I asked.

He looked up at me. “By what?”

“This,” I said, gesturing around. “Being here. With me. In this house.”

His gaze held mine for a second too long.

Then he looked away.

“I’ve dealt with worse.”

Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten slightly.

Not sympathy.

Just… curiosity.

I crossed my arms. “Like what?”

He didn’t answer.

Of course he didn’t.

I sighed and finally sat down—on the far end of the couch, leaving as much space between us as possible.

The silence came back.

But it didn’t feel empty.

It felt… loaded.

“You’re staring,” he said suddenly.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?”

I looked away, annoyed. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Difficult.”

He let out a quiet breath—almost a laugh.

“Funny,” he said. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

I turned back to him. “I’m not the one who showed up and started acting like I own the place.”

“I don’t act like that.”

“You literally told me it’s not my house.”

“Because it’s not.”

I stared at him, irritation flaring again. “You really don’t know when to stop talking, do you?”

“And you don’t know when to stop arguing.”

“Maybe because you keep saying things that make me want to argue.”

“Or maybe you just like it.”

I blinked.

“What?”

He shrugged slightly, his expression unreadable. “The fighting.”

“I do not like fighting.”

“Then why do you keep coming back?”

I opened my mouth—

And paused.

Because… I didn’t have an answer.

Again.

That was starting to happen a lot around him.

“I don’t,” I said finally. “I just don’t like you.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I figured.”

But there was something off about the way he said it.

Something… not convinced.

The silence stretched again, thicker this time.

And somehow, the space between us didn’t feel as wide as it did before.

I shifted slightly, suddenly very aware of everything—how close we actually were, the sound of his breathing, the way the air felt heavier.

“This is weird,” I muttered.

“Then go back to your room.”

I didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Another pause.

Then—

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked suddenly.

He glanced at me. “Tell you what?”

“That you existed.”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“Wasn’t my place.”

I frowned. “You could’ve said something.”

“When?” he asked. “Before or after your dad decided to pretend I wasn’t there?”

That hit harder than I expected.

I looked at him properly this time.

Really looked.

And for the first time, I saw something beneath all that attitude.

Not anger.

Not exactly.

Something… heavier.

“You’re mad at him,” I said.

He didn’t respond.

Which was answer enough.

The room felt quieter after that.

Less sharp.

“I didn’t know,” I said, softer this time.

“I know.”

Another pause.

Then—

“You don’t have to like me,” he added. “Makes things easier.”

I let out a small breath. “Good. Because I don’t.”

“Good.”

But neither of us sounded convinced.

Not even a little.

And for some reason… that made everything worse.

—or maybe—

More dangerous.

Later that night, when I finally went back to my room, one thought wouldn’t leave my head.

Not the open door.

Not the strange noise.

Not even the fact that my entire life had just changed.

It was him.

The way he looked at me.

The way he didn’t look away.

The way everything between us felt like it was balancing on the edge of something neither of us understood yet.

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

Trying to ignore it.

Trying to convince myself it didn’t matter.

But deep down…

I knew it did.

Because something had already started.

And whatever it was—

It wasn’t going to be easy to stop.