“Nothing. Do you want to go out tonight?”
Well, that was a shift. “Where?”
“I don’t know. Dinner?” My fucking face heats. “We’ve eaten in every night I’m off, and I’m no cook, so let me treat you.”
I’m surprised my swallow isn’t audible.
“It’s nothing, really. Look at it as a thank you. For cleaning out the master bedroom, cooking for us, and, you know, keeping the cat alive.”
As if on cue, Clover meows.
“What do you say?”
I say hell fucking yes.
Even if he doesn’t classify this as a date, my heart and brain are at war with one another about the classification of said “activity.”
My smile shifts from small to completely rakish. “Sounds like fun. Do I get to pick?”
He barks out a laugh. “Not a chance. I’ve already got a place in mind.”
The way my heart flips scares me. I can’t get my hopes up. We’re just friends. Just… former stepbrothers.
But that little voice in my head reminds me: no friend—or stepbrother—would hold me the way he did this morning. No one ever has. And I want to cling to the hope that maybe my life can get better. That it can have more meaning with him in it.
Age 16
I’m far sadder about this day than I thought I would be.
We just had the most wonderful summer, and I’ll admit—even though I spent it as Keoni’s stepbrother, it will go down as some of the greatest moments of my life.
From white water rafting to a cross-country road trip, to spending a few days in Arizona to see where he’d be going to school—I’ve had the time of my life.
Stolen glances. Making sure we always sat beside one another. Playing footsies under tables. All things that feel wrong, considering we’re related by marriage. Things I shouldn’t want. But I can’t help that I do.
And now, on August fifteenth, we’re standing together as a family at the airport, saying goodbye. He’s off to college, and I’m heartbroken.
Keo just finished hugging Alysa, who’s practically glowing with excitement. Leilani is happy-crying into our dad’s shoulder. And me? I’m holding onto the fragile, impossible hope that he’llsuddenly change his mind and stay.
Stay with us.
Stay withme.
When he turns after releasing my sister, his stride toward me isn’t hesitant. There’s a soft glimmer of sadness in his amber eyes—one that has always reminded me of strength and courage, just like his name.
I don’t trust my voice, so I say nothing.
He wraps his arms around my head and pulls me into his chest. I return the embrace instantly, almost clingy-like. This isn’t the one-armed hug he gave my sister, or the brief squeeze he gave my dad. This one is closer to the one he gave his mom—full, heavy, desperate. And when he exhales against me, I hope it’s because he’s hurting just as much about leaving.
“I’ll come back for the holidays,” he murmurs, soft enough that I know no one else hears. “Keep your grades up—and don’t let your sister influence you into more troublemaking.”
A shaky laugh escapes me, and I give him one last squeeze before we both let go.
I’m proud of myself for not crying, though the ache in my chest tells me the tears will come later.
“See you soon…” He pauses, like he’s weighing every word. “Ayden.”
Nodding, I step back. “Bye, Keo.”
