Series: Peach State Stepbros Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
A knot twists in my gut.
To the average person, I’m sure this isn’t a horrible, nightmarish moment with their boyfriend, but for us, it feels wrong.
And it’s not only him telling me he has plans with friends. That’s not unusual. That’s healthy. It’s that in the days since our talk with Lacey, Colin’s been acting strange…
“I’ll get some homework done,” I say, “but I’ll be here when you get back.”
Now I’m doing it too. Before our talk with his mom, I would have said yes without thinking twice about it. But now we’re…different. I don’t like it.
We’re both trying to keep up like things are fine, but they’re not.
“See you later,” Colin says with a wink.
He starts to head out when I notice his hat in the sheets. “Oh, hey!” He whirls around as I toss it to him, catching it like always, though it doesn’t have that spark to it. Just like so many of our rituals, it’s been tainted.
“I love you,” I say, unable to disguise the fear in my tone.
It’s not that he’s gonna leave me today. Obviously, that’s not what any of this is about, but the thought of ever losing Colin…it’s too much to bear.
He stops in the doorway, then comes back and places his hands on either side of my face. “I love you too,” he assures me.
When he kisses me, I don’t doubt that. I never would. It’s not like he magically fell out of love with me over a few days.
He pulls away, and I want to ask him, What are you thinking? Talk to him like we would have before. Really get to the bottom of this. We communicate. That’s our thing. I want to just say, Let’s stop being idiots and figure this out.
But I’m too scared. I know he wouldn’t commit a Step Don’t. And really, I don’t know that I could bear to hear that he’s questioning what we’re doing. That he’s thinking we might struggle when he’s in law school and I’m working as a TA for my master’s. That he wonders if we’d make it through our high-demand careers, maintaining this magic we’ve always had.
We’re Colin and Ash. I want to believe we could face anything together, but what if he’s afraid we can’t?
I wonder if he’s scared of asking me that same question because it’s not like him not to check in on me when he knows something’s wrong.
After he heads out, I assure myself we’re just off right now. We’ll be fine, I tell myself. But I didn’t have to keep telling myself that before.
Now, it feels like I have to keep reminding myself that nothing’s wrong. And it’s not like Lacey told us anything we couldn’t have figured out for ourselves if we’d stopped to consider the long-term consequences.
*
I power through my day at school.
It’s what I’m good at, where I thrive. I can distract myself a bit, and around three thirty, when I get out of my last class, I pull out my phone to check my messages.
Colin: I’ll see you tonight. I love you. Everything’s fine.
Oh fuck. I’m tearing up. Goddammit.
I hurry to my car, and as I get in, there are fucking tears streaming down my face.
I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.
I’m not fine.
We’re not fine.
He’s still in class, and I don’t know what the fuck to do, but I need to talk to someone.
I find myself pulling onto the interstate, heading to our parents’ place. Since Steve works from home, he’ll probably be there to lend me an ear.
I would never tell him what’s going on with Colin and me, not without Colin present. But I need a warm hug and a friendly face. Someone to reassure me.
When I get to the house, I see his car isn’t there. Steve must be out—maybe at the store or working on a chapter at Starbucks.
Mom’s car is.
Fuck my life.
I key in the code at the front door, don’t even bother looking for her. I head upstairs to my room.
Just need a good cry.
But then my feet take me farther down the hall into Colin’s room.
The tears come again.
I crawl into his bed, burying my face in his pillow, hoping to get a whiff of him, but when I just smell Tide Free & Gentle, it stings that much more.
I’m in a fucking tailspin.
Why couldn’t we have just enjoyed the fantasy a little longer? Why did we have to spoil everything by telling anyone?
I sniffle, trying to control myself. When I turn, I notice someone’s sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Fuck,” I call out, sitting up and crawling back to the wall, every nerve in me convinced there’s a psychopath in bed all of a sudden. It takes my brain a moment to recover from the surprise. “Jesus Christ, Mom! What are you doing?”