Wanting My Stepsister(11)

She cups my face and rubs her nose against mine. It’s something we’ve done forever, and it always succeeds in making me smile.

“I’m starving,” Ned says, coming in the back door and going straight for my mom. It’s the same thing he always does when he first sees her. He grabs her up and kisses her, and she giggles. She used to blush and tell him not to do it in front of us, but that stopped long ago because he’d still do it anyway. “That cherry I smell?” he asks, putting my mom back on her feet but not letting her go.

“Yep!” I add a little cheer to my voice, trying to lighten up my mood. I put the lid back on the pot, and wipe my hands on my apron. “It should be done in a little bit. Right on time for after dinner.”

I glance over to the other side of the room where Jasper is leaning up against the wall. I look away, unable to meet his eyes. My face warms as I think about the truck ride home. How he’d touched me. Something is changing, and I can feel it. There’s something different about him and about us, but I don’t know what it is.

I grab the plates off the counter to set the table, needing some space and something else to focus on. Crap, this feels weird, awkward even.

Jasper’s phone rings, and I look back over at him, unable to stop myself. I can’t ever seem to stop.

“Hey, Emily,” he says into the phone, and I freeze, all the air leaving my lungs. “Yeah, I put your bag by the front door. You left it in the living room.” He pauses for a moment. “Don’t forget to set the alarm before you leave. I’m going to be gone a few days.” He pauses again, and all of us are looking at him. He raises his eyebrows at us questioningly.

I pull my eyes from his and start to put the food on the table.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll see you next week,” I hear him say.

“Who’s Emily?” my mom asks as Jasper ends the call.

“I’m going to go wash up before dinner,” I say, escaping the room and half-running up the stairs. My eyes start to burn, and I know if anyone sees my face they’ll know I’m about to cry.

I race into my room and then into my bathroom and wash my face. I look at myself in the mirror and try to breathe.

“Get it together, Libby. He’ll always be in my life, and someday I’ll have to see him with someone else.” My words offer no comfort. For the first time, I don’t feel like I’m at home anymore. I pull off my apron and toss it into the laundry basket.

I hear a knock at my door and open it to find my mom standing there.

“You okay, baby girl? You don’t look well.” She reaches out and touches my forehead.

“I’m not sure. I’m not feeling so hungry. I think I’m going to lie down for a little bit.” I see a trace of disappointment cross my mom’s face before she tries to hide it. She always gets excited when everyone is home and can eat together. I know I’m being selfish, but I can’t go down there and listen to Jasper talk about some girl he’s dating. I’m not ready for that.

“Okay. I’ll put a plate in the microwave in case you feel up to eating later.”

“Thanks, Mom.” She kisses me on the cheek and leaves.

I shut my door and lean up against it for long moment before I finally peel myself away and put on my pajamas. I crawl into bed, and I don’t know how long I lie there before sleep finally takes me.





6





Libby





My eyes flutter open. The feeling of someone watching me pulls me from sleep. My bathroom light spills softly into my room, and I see Jasper’s silhouette in a chair in the corner. The sight startles me, and I roll to my side and wonder how long he's been there. I can’t make out more than his outline at this distance and without more light.

“Still sleep with the light on?” He nods to the bathroom door. His voice is low, but I hear him.

“I don’t like being alone in the dark.”

“You’re not alone.”

He stands up and into the light a little. It’s then I see he’s only wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants as he walks to the bathroom and turns the light off. The room is plunged into darkness, and I sit up in bed. Suddenly, I feel his warm hand on my cheek, and I can’t stop myself from leaning into it. The darkness makes me feel like I can hide in it. Hide with him.

“You feeling better? Mom was worried,” he says, and then pauses for a second. “I was worried.”

“Who’s Emily?” I ask, ignoring his question. His hand on my cheek stops moving. My heart starts to pound. I shouldn’t have asked.

“She cleans my house every other week,” he says. “She was calling because she left one of her cleaning supply bags last time she was there.”