I ran a hand through my hair.
“Oh, fuck. Of course. Of course it’s him. Of all the people on this planet you could’ve married into, it had to be the guy whose kid is—”
She frowned, clearly sensing my anger but not the exact target of it.
“Jamie, please, calm down—”
“Calm down?” I laughed bitterly, pacing.
“Mom, you do realize who we’re talking about? Lex Rothwell?”
Her eyes widened slightly, like the name had some magic power to shock her.
“Oh… I… I know he’s been difficult, but I didn’t think—”
I ran a hand over my face. Of course, she didn’t think. She never thinks. My personal hell is always someone else’s convenience.
Lex. Lex. Lex.
The name burned in my head like acid. My tormentor. My obsession. My—shit—my filthiest fantasies, the kind I only admit to my brain when no one’s watching.
He’s the asshole who has invaded my nightmares, who has made me feel things I’m not supposed to feel, who is so infuriatingly perfect that every cell in mybody wants him despite my brain screaming NO.
And now, thanks to Mom, he’s not just some rich frat boy I can avoid at school. He’s my fucking stepbrother.
I could feel the nausea twist in my stomach.
This is it.
This is hell.
My personal devil has a name:Lex Rothwell.
I sank back onto the couch, trying to breathe, trying to wrap my head around the inevitable. My mother reached out, but I flinched.
“Jamie…” she started softly.
“No, Mom,” I said, my voice sharp.
“Just… no. You can’t fix this. You can’t fix what this means. Lex Rothwell… he’s—he’s—he’s not just some guy anymore. We’ll be living in the same house. He’s going to be my brother. My stepbrother.”
She sighed, probably thinking I was exaggerating, and maybe I was, a little.
But she didn’t know the half of it.
She didn’t know about the nightmares. About the mask. About the part of me that, when I think of those dreams, imagines Lex being the one behind the mask.
Fuck. No.
I shook my head, trying to push that thought away. I can’t do this. I can’t think about him like that. He’s my stepbrother now. He’s not a fantasy. He’s real. And he’s going to make my life a living nightmare—because he always has.
I swallowed, my throat tight.
“Yeah,” I muttered, more to myself than to her.
“Yeah, this is officially my own idea of hell.”
And I know exactly who my personal devil is.
