The day my stepbrother, Chase, was released from prison for a crime I committed, I went to see him. He was leaning against the wall of a dive bar, smoke curling from his lips as he unbuckled his belt. I reached out to help, but he grabbed my wrist, stopping me cold. His eyes were dark, his laugh bitter. "What, you think I'm sick? I'm not gonna touch my own stepsister." I retreated, feeling the sting of his rejection. Later, I found solace in one of his friends. Chase caught us. The friend froze, terrified. Chase just clenched his jaw and walked away, pretending he hadn't seen a thing. But the friend disappeared soon after. And Chase? He was done pretending. "I've waited eighteen years for you," he growled, cornering me. "And you're just gonna let anyone touch you? Like you don't care?" His hand tangled in my hair, pulling me close. "I'm gonna kiss you until you forget everyone else." 1 Chase got out of prison today. His crew was already waiting outside the gates, a convoy of trucks and muscle cars ready to pick him up. I didn't even get a chance to talk to him before they whisked him away to a bar for a welcome-home party. I followed them. A childhood crush mixed with a heavy dose of guilt for him serving my time made it impossible to stay away. I saw him head for the bathroom and intercepted him in the hallway. He was wearing a dark jacket over a black tank top, cargo pants, and combat boots. His buzz cut was sharp, and the edge of a massive dragon tattoo peeked out from his shoulder. He walked with a swagger that said he owned the world. When he saw me, his expression soured. He took a drag from his cigarette and tried to brush past me. "Chase," I called out. He stopped, raising an eyebrow. "What? Here to thank me for taking the fall?" I bit my lip and nodded. He scoffed. "How you gonna thank me?" I didn't have words, so I reached out and put a hand on his waist. "Are you crazy?" He slapped my hand away. "I'm not into this." My eyes welled up. "Why not? It's not like we're blood-related. We just grew up together." "I don't have money, Chase. This is all I have." He laughed, a sharp, angry sound. "You think I need your money?" "You know how I feel..." I started. He ran a hand over his buzz cut, looking exasperated. "Look, I'm not an animal." I turned my head, cheeks burning. "It wouldn't matter if you were." He heard me. He took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly before he spoke. "Harper," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Are you trying to seduce me? Because I swear, I will throw you into the ocean." Is that a promise? I thought, bold all of a sudden. Action speaks louder than words. I reached for the top button of his shirt. 2 Before I could even undo one button, Chase slapped my hand away and buttoned it back up, his face like thunder. He buttoned it all the way to the top, choking himself. "Trying to strangle yourself so I can find a new man?" I teased. He gave a short, disbelief laugh. "Don't just go around unbuttoning guys' shirts, Harper. You'll regret it." I looked up at him. The buzz cut, the jacket, the sheer size of him. He was mesmerizing. My ears burned as I whispered, "Are you just 'any guy'?" He snorted, pinning me against the wall with one hand. "Doesn't matter. Don't waste your time on me. I'm not interested." He pushed off the wall and started to walk away, not looking back. One of his friends called out, "Chase! Someone's here for you." Over his shoulder, he tossed back, "Don't waste your breath." I looked up, but he was gone. I slumped into a corner booth, his words echoing in my head. Don't waste your time. A sour feeling spread through my chest. My eyes burned, and tears started to fall. I downed a shot of whiskey, the burn a welcome distraction. Then I saw him. Chase was walking out, phone to his ear, laughing. "Damn, you missed me that much?" I followed him without thinking. I had to know why I wasn't enough. Outside, a bright red sports car was idling. A woman with long, wavy hair and a tight dress was leaning against it. Chase was lighting her cigarette, their bodies almost touching. My nose stung. A tear splashed onto my hand, hot and sobering. Eighteen years of history, and it meant nothing compared to some random woman with a fast car. I wiped my eyes, clenched my fists, and turned to leave. The woman noticed me. She blew out a plume of smoke and nodded in my direction. "Chase, who's the virgin?" Chase glanced over, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's just my stepsister. Ignore her." "Got a lot of stepsisters, don't you?" she laughed. Hearing them joke about me made me snap. I marched over and slapped Chase across the face. Hard. Then, forcing tears into my eyes, I screamed, "Is one not enough for you? How many others are you hiding?" "Is this why you don't come home at night? Because of her? Brother?" "..." The woman choked on her smoke. "Holy shit. You let her hit you, Chase?" "What's going on? You just got out and you're already juggling chicks?" I glared at him, lip trembling. Chase laughed, a genuine sound this time. He rubbed his jaw, eyes glinting. "Damn. I guess I better pay up on this debt tonight. You just wait." My bravado evaporated. I pointed a finger at him, stammering, "You... you..." but nothing came out. I had played myself. The woman was loving it. "Chase still got it, huh?" "..." I didn't think I'd see her again. Until... 3 I saw her at Chase's new auto shop. Turns out, her dad had hired Chase to manage his fleet. The pay was incredible—enough to open ten shops like this one. But Chase had turned it down flat. "Tell your dad thanks," he'd said, "but I don't do well with bosses." The shop was his dream. It was massive. Tonight, he was hosting a grand opening party. In the past, when we had no money, Chase would still save every penny to build his dream garage. It had everything: a gym, a pool table, a bar, a karaoke room. His friends had always wanted to see it, but he never let them. He hated the noise. I didn't expect to see him tonight. But then someone yelled, "Holy crap, look who it is!" Chase walked in, wearing his signature black tank top and cargo pants. The dragon tattoo on his shoulder flexed with every movement. He owned the room. He was looking for someone, peeking into rooms as he passed. I quickly shut the door to the karaoke room. But it opened again. Chase stood there, looking at me and the guy I was with—one of his friends, Leo. He frowned. "Out." His voice was low and raspy, like he'd just woken up. But it held an authority that no one questioned. Leo scrambled to apologize and left. The karaoke room was empty now, just the two of us. I took a nervous sip of my juice, coughed, and tried to act casual. "So, you decided to show up?" "What? Interrupting your date?" Chase was flipping his lighter open and closed, the flame dancing. I decided to push my luck. "Yeah, he's cute, isn't he?" Chase laughed, a sharp bark. He put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, inhaling deeply. His eyes were intense, stripping me bare. "I thought one was enough for you? I thought I wasn't coming home?" "I thought you wanted me to pay my debts? What happened?" I choked on my juice, sputtering. My ears burned. "Chase, don't be gross. If your future wife heard you, what would she think?" "Oh? You didn't think about that when you were making a scene at the bar. Now you're shy? Playing hard to get?" His arrogance was infuriating. If he wasn't so damn hot, I'd punch him. I took a breath and forced a smile. "So, how are you going to pay your debt, big brother?" Two can play at this game. Chase paused mid-smoke. He took two quick drags, stubbed it out, and turned to leave. I spun around to stop him, but I tripped and fell onto the couch, pulling him down with me. I twisted my back. He landed on top of me. I couldn't move. Chase seemed stunned. He put his hands under my arms to lift me, but it hurt too much. "Ow, stop. Can you not?" He had to adjust his grip. I whimpered. We were stuck like that for two minutes. I was pinned underneath him, my voice muffled against his chest. "Chase, are you enjoying this? Is that why you won't let me up?" His jaw clenched, a vein popping in his forehead. "Enjoying you squirming around? You wish." "Who knows? Maybe it's your thing."
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