“Will you stay for a slice?” Mom turns, dusting her hands. “I was just making a fresh pot of coffee.”
Stephanie looks like she would rather be anywhere else. She’s already shifting backwards, edging to the door. “I should go.”
Mom purses her lips but doesn’t stop her. Together, they move back down the corridor with Mom urging her to stay a few minutes.
I know she doesn’t mean it. Mom abhors company when she’s busy. But it’s the polite thing to do, just like Stephanie leaving was the polite thing to do.
The smile is gone when Mom returns. She has the downward frown of someone ready for the day to be over. I can’t say I blame her. It’s only seven in the morning and I’m already done with today.
Chapter Two
?Isla?
“They’re just coming to eat your food and shit in your bed.”
Jacob, Walker’s foul older brother drops the last nibble of crispy bacon down on his empty plate and rubs his fingers together to dust off the crumbs. He sighs with the same exhausting exaggeration he shows everything and leans back on his backless stool.
A tiny, malicious part of my brain giggles at the idea of it finally giving out from under him and sending him tumbling to the linoleum. The sleazy mountain of sweat and grease would deserve it.
Mom’s brand-new floors do not.
“I certainly hope no one shits in my bed,” Walker grumbles around the rim of his coffee mug, eyes fixed on the morning paper.
“No one is shitting in anyone’s bed, Jacob,” Mom mutters, rubbing the tips of four flour-stained fingers across her brow. “It will just be family, gathering around and enjoying the holidays.”
Jacob sucks at his back molars. When that doesn’t dislodge whatever’s stuck back there, he sends a pinky in to try and pick it free.
“It’s a waste of time,” he slurs around the wiggling digit.
Disgusting excuse for a human.
I don’t say it. It doesn’t need vocalization. Everyone knows it. It’s anyone’s guess how someone as bland and unimpressiveas Walker could possibly have such a swamp beast for a brother. Walker, a painfully simple man, loyal to his beige khakis and wire rimmed glasses, is the very definition of nonthreatening. His nonchalance alone could win an Oscar. Whereas Jacob is a loud, filthy version with a gut that could shame the moon and an odor that should be studied. Ill-mannered, lecherous and a walking fly farm, Mom’s brother-in-law defies basic human sense.
The fact that he went out of his way to try and look down my top every chance he got from the moment I started developing is a whole other matter Mom refuses to acknowledge.
Mom isn’t a neglectful parent. She’s not even a bad parent. She just doesn’t cope well alone. Finding Walker was a Godsend for both of us, and I think she’s desperate enough to overlook anything if it means not losing that security. Which is fine. I don’t live here anymore and the second I get my opening, I’ll leave and not have to see his disgusting face until the year after.
One week and counting.
But my excitement is short lived when the backdoor swings open and the remaining two members of the family stroll in.
Nicolas and Dominic.
My heart throws itself off a cliff and nosedives into shark infested waters. My stomach aches with a need so brutally violent, I can’t breathe. I can’t think. My head is a muffled wasteland holding nothing but the words spoken in private. Words I shouldn’t have heard but now can’t unhear.
“Let me fuck your little sister.”
I try not to squirm as the rush of molten heat soaks through my panties. Intensifies when I unintentionally lock eyes with the perpetrator.
Dominic Maddox.
Six feet of lean, powerful muscles and sharp, hard features closes the door behind him and Nicolas. His eyes, deep pits of swirling darkness never waver off mine. Never so much as blink. They carve into my very soul with a raw, ravenous warning that spikes up inside me where I need him most. The look alone is enough to send ripples along my vaginal walls with greedy desperation.
But then his eyes narrow. His lips quirk up on one corner. He cocks his head like he can read my mind, and I think for a panicked second that maybe he can.
“Morning, you two.” Jacob’s comment about shitty beds is forgotten as Mom hurries to pull both into tight hugs. “Did you sleep well?”
I would like to add that I never get a morning hug, but I also don’t expect one. Mom and Nicolas have a weird relationship that I can only ever dream of. Mom would never admit it, but I know she’s always wanted a son and got me instead. Not saying she’s been a bad mother, or I somehow lacked in any way, but I wouldn’t mind being ushered to a chair and offered coffee in the morning.
