Dylan sighs. "We’ve taken care of that. One of the things we learned from your diary was how much her comments hurt you. We made her promise to respect you as you are or understand that she’s not welcome in our lives. We'll never leave you stranded again."
Calmness washes over me—except between my legs—different feelings happen there. "I might have the best stepbrothers ever."
"Except when we snoop through your shit." Dylan pokes fun at himself.
"At least you didn’t listen when I told you to stay out of my life."
Toby must be eager to call our parents too. His finger hovers over a contact labeled 'Dad'. It's a little thing, but I like that he used Dad, not Stepdad.
I'm excited and scared. It's like I'm at the starting line of a race I didn't know I was running. I need a minute. The first way to delay that comes to mind tumbles out of my mouth. "Hold on, let me brush my hair."
"Dad won't care."
Haunting memories of their mom criticizing every aspect of me, including my lack of hairstyle download into my brain. I force a smile and hop up.
In the bathroom, I face the mirror, running my fingers through my stick-straight hair. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, do I have the evilest stepmother of all?"
A smirk tugs my lips. Probably not theevilest, but that might change when she finds out I’m having sex with her sons.
I try again, this time without a question. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, I have the best stepbrothers of all."
That just might be true.
With my hair smoothed into place, I return to the living room, and huddle on the couch with Toby and Dylan.
The call is emotional, even for my stepmom, and we keep it short, noting the hour. With my permission, my brothers promise to bring me home tomorrow. It's going to be hard getting used to people like my dad feeling so familiar, yet knowing such limited tidbits about our past.
The call ends and I pick up my diary and open to the first page. NIKKI is written in bold letters with the year and several doodles. "It’s so odd to know that I have a different name, and kind of wild that in a way, Molly is so close to Nikki. Guess I better start learning about this Nikki chick."
Toby slides closer, his thigh pressing against mine. "Or we could show you."
Dylan drapes an arm over the back of the couch, fingers brushing my shoulder. "Feel like snuggling up on the couch and reading a book?"
He and Toby share a knowing look.
"You mean my diary?"
"Unless you have other smut lying around."
"My diary's not—well, maybe it is."
Dylan takes it from me and flips to a specific page. "Get comfortable."
Heat flares in my belly. What are they planning?
Toby runs to my bedroom and returns with a pillow and blanket. He props the pillow at one end of the couch and waits for me to recline on it before covering me with the blanket.
Dylan points to the page in my diary. "Start from the top. Tell us if we get it wrong."
Then they leave my apartment. What the heck? I stare at the closed door.
"Tell us when you start reading?" Toby calls through the door.
I guess what they're doing will make sense if I dive in. I start reading:
I'm exhausted after a hitting leg day at the gym. Climbing the stairs to my bedroom isn't going to happen. I detour to the couch instead, curling up with my latest smutty novella and weighted blanket.
I laugh. My diary and threadbare thrift store blanket will have to suffice.
