Page 3 of North

The door creaked open, and Mom and Mark stepped inside, both of them smiling like this was some kind of Hallmark movie moment. Mom looked effortlessly put together in her crisp summer dress, and slicked back auburn ponytail, while Mark’s neatly pressed polo and khakis practically screamed suburban dad of the year.

“We just wanted to check in and see how you’re settling,” Mom said warmly, her gaze sweeping over the room. “It’s a great space, isn’t it? Lots of light. You’ve got your own bathroom, too—so nice for privacy.”

Yeah, a bathroom that sat between North’s room and mine, with a door leading into each. Sounded like such a good idea. Not.

I nodded, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

“And the view of the lake?” Mark chimed in as he walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of guilt when he grinned at me. North took after his dad in almost every way physically, but they couldn’t be more different. “Unbeatable. You’ll love it here, Quinn. It’s perfect to get a chance to relax before college.”

The words felt hollow, their warmth too polished, too practiced. It was the same tone they used when they talked about how exciting it would be to have me move in, even though it was clear none of us actually wanted it.

“It’s fine,” I mumbled, keeping my eyes on the floor. “The room’s fine. Thanks.”

Mom frowned slightly, but Mark clapped a hand on my shoulder, cutting her off as he pulled me in for a hug. “It’s great to see you’re doing good, kiddo,” he said, and for a second it felt like Dad was there and not him. My throat tightened. “We’re grilling tonight—steaks, burgers, the works. Dinner’s at seven, out on the patio. You’ll join us, right?”

I hesitated for a moment, but then Mom’s hopeful expression made me cave. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “Sure.”

“Great!” Mark beamed. “We’ll see you down there. Take your time unpacking.”

Mom stalled as he said that, her lip twisting. “Do you need any help with anything?”

And then I’d have to listen to her fawn about my perfect step-siblings—I don’t think so.

“I’ll be fine,” I replied, my voice cutting.

Her expression fell. “Okay, well, I’m here if you need me.”

I probably should’ve felt bad about being a bitch, but my nerves were still on edge since I saw North with that blonde. The last thing I wanted was to hear about Evie for the next few hours. Perfect Evie, the youngest of Mark’s three children, and his only daughter.

Mom adored her.

They left, closing the door behind them, and the room felt suffocatingly quiet again. I stared at my duffel bag by the bed, but I couldn’t bring myself to unpack. Instead, I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to untangle the mess of emotions twisting in my chest.

Mark was a hugger, you couldn’t avoid it when he was around. He always wanted to show how much he loved his kids—and step-kids.

I couldn’t remember the last time my mother hugged me.

By the time dinner rolled around, I still felt off—unsettled, tense, like I was walking into a trap I couldn’t see. The patio was bathed in golden evening light, the table set with plates of food that looked like they belonged in a cooking show. Mom and Mark were already seated, laughing softly over their glasses of wine.

And then there was North.

He lounged in his chair like he owned the world, his sharp features lit by the fading sunlight. His hair was still damp from a shower, falling messily over his forehead, and he was dressed casually in a dark t-shirt and jeans that fit a little too perfectly. He didn’t look at me when I sat down, but the smirk playing on his lips said enough.

I forced myself to focus on my plate, trying to block him out, but it was impossible. He was there—his presence heavy, his energy suffocating, like he was daring me to look at him.

Under the table, something brushed against my foot.

I froze.

The contact was light at first, almost accidental. But then it came again—deliberate, slow, his foot sliding against mine like a silent taunt. My heart slammed against my ribs as I snatched my foot back, my cheeks flushing hot.

I didn’t dare look at him, but I could feel his eyes on me, could feel the smirk that had probably deepened into something cruel.

And then he spoke, his voice low, just loud enough for me to hear. “Did you get a good view earlier?”

My fork clattered against my plate. Heat flooded my face, spreading down my neck as his words sank in. My hands clenched in my lap, nails digging into my palms as shame and fury twisted together in my chest.

“Get fucked,” I hissed, but that must’ve been more obvious than I thought because Mark looked over at us.

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