Page 67 of Jealous Stepbrother
I groan and shake my head. “Not yet.”
He sighs. “Okay, baby. Five more minutes.”
“Thank you.”
I let myself drift in the warmth of his arms, listening to the muted crash of the ocean and the slow, steady rhythm of his heart under my ear. It feels safe here, in this cocoon of salt air and shadows.
Here I can fool myself that the rest of the world has dissolved and it’s only us.
But reality has sharp teeth. It always comes back to bite.
Less than twenty minutes later, we’re walking up the front steps and my stomach is tight with dread.
Asher’s hand grips mine with easy confidence. And when I try tugging free, he just tightens his hold and shoots me a warning look.
Inside, the air feels different, heavy and ominous.
They’re waiting in the living room.
Victor is standing by the window, jaw set so tight I can see the muscle ticking. Mom sits on the edge of the couch, twisting her wedding band, her face pale, eyes shimmering like she’s barely holding herself together.
They know.
Or at least theythinkthey know something.
When my mother’s gaze lands on me, it’s all I can do not to crumble.
“Scarlett, sweetheart,” she whispers. “What happened?” Her voice is thin, too soft, as if she’s terrified of the answer.
I dart a look at Asher, but his expression is granite. Cold. Untouchable.
I tug my hand free and this time he lets me go… reluctantly. I cross the room and throw my arms around her neck, burying my face in her shoulder.
“It was a misunderstanding, Mom. Just a misunderstanding.” My voice cracks, but I force a smile when I pull back.
“Just like the park incident was a misunderstanding?” Victor demands, scathingly skeptical.
Annette frowns. “Scarlett…”
“Isn’t as free as she thinks she is,” Asher cuts in smoothly, striding to where I’m standing next to Mom, his gaze locked on me like a silent dare. “I had to remind her of that.”
“What does that mean?” Victor demands.
“Exactly what I said, Dad,” Asher grates out.
The words hang between us like a dropped match in a room full of gas. My skin prickles, knowing everyone in the room heard the double edge to it, but no one—not even Victor—dares to push.
Mom’s eyes search mine, desperate for more, for something that will make sense of the unease pressing into the corners of the room.
Before I can think of what else to say, Asher cuts in, voice like a blade. “We’re leaving.”
Victor’s gaze flicks to him, sharp, furious. “Excuse me?”
“We’ve got a long drive back to the city,” Asher says flatly, his hand recapturing and clamping tighter around mine. “No point dragging it out. Besides, Scarlett needs to catch up. She fell behind this week.”
Annette blinks. “Really? Why?”
Asher doesn’t answer. He just lifts an eyebrow in my direction, all cool authority, waiting.
