He’s nothing.

There’s no doubt in my mind he’s aware I found my mom under the mountain of paperwork he left her with. He knows I know what he’s trying to do, even if I’m still missing pieces. Not that he cares, but still.

Invite me here for a fight in front of his wife who probably has no fucking clue he’s still screwing his ex when it’s convenient for him?

To say I’m on edge is an under-fucking-statement.

At first I flat-out refused, but when he used my mom as a threat against me, I had no choice but to cave to the asshole.

Who knows what he’ll pull on her next time I’m out of the house. I’ve already fallen even more days behind in school because of him and his latest stunt, I can’t afford to miss any more. He knew I’d take the time to try and figure out what exactly he accomplished by getting those documents signed.

I spent hours going over the paperwork he left, but it was all out of order and seemed pages were missing to the point where I couldn’t make any sense of it. I’m not a damn lawyer and most legal terms are lost on me, so it was more wasted time than not.

It didn’t help that whatever it was he gave my mom had her vomiting and sluggish into the next day. I’m the only one she has who cares about her, so of course I was at her side through it. I had to feed her more meds when she started shaking and getting even sicker once they began to wear off, so the two days that followed the first were spent watching my mom sleep and wishing she’d wake with a clearer mind than the one she’d laid down with.

He’s getting more reckless with her and I have no clue how to end it. Denying his request wouldn’t help any, that much is clear.

So here I am, parked outside of his place, glaring at the long walkway that leads to the front door, a giant ass welcome wreath hanging from the center of it.

I pull my phone out to check the time, but before I realize what I’m doing, I’m dialing Demi.

My muscles constrict even more when she doesn’t answer.

I haven’t talked to her since she came to my house, and it feels like too long already. She showed up, worried because I had disappeared. I should have taken the time to call her when I was out, but when shit at home gets so fucked up, I get lost.

I fuckin’ hate it.

There’s no way she didn’t see the prescribing doctor’s name on the pill bottles, and I need to prepare to talk to her about that.

I toss my phone to the side and look up again.

Fuck it.

I climb from my truck, taking my steps two at a fucking time.

The quicker I get in, the quicker I can get the hell out.

This isn’t my house and I know I’ll never truly be welcome here, but I walk in without knocking anyway.

Respecting this place is the last thing on my mind, so I don’t bother with closing the door, allowing it to slam shut behind me as I walk through the entryway, following the voices floating from around the corner.

“That must be my other son now.”

Other son.

Please. I have no brother.

Man, fuck this.

I lick my lips, stand straight and mask my fucking face before moving into view.

The little bitch is the first one I spot, and his eyes meet mine, a sick, satisfied gleam staring back as he sits beside my dad as if it’s where he belongs.

Maybe it is. On the inside they’re one and the same. Both as fucked up and manipulative as the other.

“Nico,” my father says, pushing off his place against the wall.

I step farther into the room giving him nothing but a blank stare.

“Don’t be rude, son.” He’s gotten good at acting, his smile comes off generous, but his eyes are as vicious as always. He sweeps his hand out and says, “We have guests.”

Right as he says it, a little hand with pink polished nails folds over the edge of the high-backed chair facing away from me.

Inch by inch, long, dark blonde hair from scalp to tip appears, a frame I’d recognize anywhere that has no place in this living room.

My feet grow numb yet heavy, my body swaying in place as my lungs squeeze in my chest, blocking my airway.

Time fucking slows, my veins running cold when slowly, her head turns, those green eyes needing no directing, but landing right on mine.

I’ve never witnessed such an array of emotions flash across a person’s face and so quickly.

Anger, disappointment, discomfort.

Sadness.

Confusion.

Concern.

Fear?

What are you afraid of, baby?

I want to step toward her, but I’m rooted in place, fucking frozen.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” she says, her tone cool and collected when she’s anything but.

My eyes move between hers, a sharp ache puncturing between my ribs, a pain so strong I have to look away, my glare settling on the asshole she’s referring to. “I don’t.”

Alex smirks, and I force myself to glance back to Demi.

Her face contorts, but she doesn’t say a word, and in the next second, her mom is standing beside her.

My eyes cut to my dad. “What is this?”

“I called Ms. Davenport and asked her family to join mine for dinner.”

In my peripheral, I see Demi’s head jerk toward her mom.

My dad continues, “We were just discussing formal next week, and the possibility of Alex being Demi’s date.”

Anger pulls at my every muscle, and my eyes fly to her.

She slowly shakes her head, looking from my dad to me. “That’s not—”

She cuts off when her mom grips her by the arm.

Demi pulls her foot back the half a step forward she had started to take.

“Oh, honey, don’t be silly.” Her mother tugs her closer, an undertone to her words that can only be interpreted as a warning.

My pulse spikes, but I force myself to stay put, keep fucking calm because the last thing I’m about to do is give anyone in this room the satisfaction of witnessing my anxiety.

Demi, though, she surprises me when she tugs free from her mom and steps away. Despite how pissed off and confused she is right now, my baby attempts to clear the air. “I’m not sure what my mom told you, Mr. Sykes, but I think there’s been some confusion.”

“Are you not dating my son?” He cocks his head to the side mockingly.

“Yes. Your son, not your stepson.” She cuts a quick glance my way, uncertainty in her eyes but confidence in her words. “I’m with Nico.”

My dad isn’t deterred. “Is Nikoli taking you to the dance, Demi?” he asks her.

She hesitates, her eyes snapping toward mine.

Is that not an obvious answer?

She keeps her focus on me as he adds, “Has he so much as mentioned it, let alone asked you himself?”

Doubt creeps over her and my throat begins to itch.

I glance across the room, from my dad’s silent, porcelain wife to Demi’s carbon copy mother. From Alex to my dad, my eyes settling on Demi last.

“Nico and I are going together.” Her answer is straightforward, but it kills me to hear it.

She had to be careful with her words, not let on that, no, I haven’t mentioned it, and no we haven’t spoken of it at all.

I know what she’s thinking.

Am I really going to stand here and not say a word? Not confirm I’m hers and she’s mine, allow Alex to think she’s free game when she’s anything but.