Page 20 of Stepbrother's Obsession
Of course he doesn’t answer. I’m talking to myself. Sitting in silence, picturing the rest of my life without him.
I lie down on the wood and hold his washer up to my face. My treasure. The only thing I have linking us together. Part of me wants to give in to my rage and hurl it into the lake, but the other part—the part that desperately loves him—knows I can’t. Colt’s washer will stay with me forever.
Mom comes outand finds me hours later and tries to coax me back inside. I don’t move. I can’t. Moving from this place on the dock means acknowledging Colt is gone for good.
“He’ll come back,” I whimper to myself. Mom hears and doesn’t argue, but she doesn’t agree. She sits down beside me asthe sun goes down, the light of dusk burning like angry fire in the water’s waves.
I don’t know what he’s thinking. Why would he leave? Why wouldn’t he stay and fight for me? Am I not good enough? Does he not love me?
I wish I’d never met Colt. I wish I’d never given in to him—given myself to him. Then my heart would be intact. Then these tears would not be pouring down my cheeks.
9
COLT
TWO WEEKS LATER…
The airin the cab of my truck is stale. The bench seat is giving my spine issues from sleeping on it for so long. The same stretch of highway I’ve stared at every night has burned into my brain like a toxin. Cars hum by, but every time I close my eyes, the only sound I hear is Lily’s voice.
I’m parked at an old service station a few miles away, spooning beans out of a can and trying to convince myself that leaving her was the right thing to do.
I made the right decision. I did what I had to do.
It was either leave or stay and destroy our entire family. With me gone, everything can go back to normal. And that’s what Lily needs: a normal life. Not one thrown into chaos by an older guy who couldn’t keep it in his pants.
I should have known better.
Should have kept my hands off her and suffered in silence. But I couldn’t. She was just too much for me. She’ll always be too much for me. Going back is not an option now.
I glance in the rearview and see a little blue hatchback bumping across the parking lot toward me. My heart lurches. There’s no question who’s driving that car.
It’s Lily.
I grab a bottle of water and splash my face and scrub, trying not to look like a man who’s just spent fourteen days living off the grid. Quickly, I swap shirts to the cleanest one I have and open the door before she can come over and witness my mess.
She steps out of the car in a soft tank top and cutoff jeans, her hair in a messy knot that captures her heavenly beauty. My washer still hangs from her throat, causing my heart to leap. How could a simple piece of metal carry so much meaning?
I meet her eyes—those stubborn, gorgeous, green eyes—which are rimmed by furious red. She’s been crying. But there’s also a twinkle there of undeniable happiness.
“Hi,” she says simply.
I clear my throat. “You shouldn’t be here, Lily.”
“You shouldn’t have left.”
She states it like a simple fact, and I feel myself starting to fold. The road behind us is quiet. No one is filling their car. We’re essentially alone, sun beating down on us, wrapped in the brutal truth of the tragedy of our relationship.
“Lily—”
She walks straight into my arms. No fear, no hesitation. Just a brave little body pressing into my chest like she never cared about anything but us. And that’s true.
Her hands slide around my waist, and I inhale reflexively. She smells like lake water and the sweet scent of her shampoo. My arms close around her out of pure instinct.
Christ, it’s actually her. I’m not dreaming.
I bury my face in her hair and breathe deeply. Her warm, soft body against mine is hypnotic—something I never thought I’d feel again. She’s shaking, crying, her tears wetting the fabric of my shirt.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “For hurting you.”
