Wanting My Stepsister

by Alexa Riley

  “Good to see you, Son,” she says, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek and pushing me back to look me up and down. “Your hair's gotten long.”

  She pulls off my baseball cap and messes my hair up playfully before plopping the hat back down on top.

  “Can’t seem to find the time for a cut,” I say, smiling at her.

  “I like it. It looks good on you. Your dad is out back waiting on you. He said there was some machine thingy you needed to look at?”

  I let out a little laugh. “That sounds about right.”

  “All right. You boys get to work, and I’ll see if Libby wants to make dinner with me. Let’s have a family night. Eat a big dinner and watch a movie.”

  “Sounds perfect, Mom,” I say, not wanting to see any more disappointment in anyone's eyes today.

  She smiles brightly, looking so much like Libby, and then heads upstairs. I hear water running, and I assume it’s Libby taking a shower. I have to stop that train of thought. I can’t let myself imagine her naked and soaping up or I’ll end up going to my room and jerking off. Like I usually do.

  I go upstairs to my room at the end of the hall and drop my bag on my bed. I don’t glance at Libby’s closed door, refusing to allow my mind to conjure up any fantasies. I practically jog down the stairs and through the house, making my way to the kitchen. Mine and Libby’s rooms are upstairs, along with a guest room. My parents have their master suite downstairs, along with an office, kitchen, living room, and dining room. The house is a big farmhouse, but my dad did a ton of work on it before and since Carol moved in. He likes making her happy, and Carol loves remodeling.

  I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and an apple off the counter before heading out back to see what my dad has gotten himself into. When I walk off the back porch, I see him out in the distance at the barn, halfway under one of our tractors.

  Dad hasn’t worked on the farm in a long time, choosing to lease out the land for other farmers and making good money at it. But we’ve still got a few acres we keep to ourselves and he likes to mow it with a tractor that was made before I was born. Hell, maybe even before he was born.

  “You get stuck under there, old man, I’m not helping you get out,” I say, biting into the apple and leaning up against one of the shoulder-high tires.

  “Don’t you know that was the reason I had you, son? To take care of me in my ancient years.” He doesn’t move out from under the tractor, but he tosses up a tool at me that I catch with one hand.

  I nudge his knee with my foot and he slides over as I climb in underneath with him. I scan the tractor and see the problem right away, then reach for the right tools.

  “You’ve got a bolt loose and it’s burned out your clutch. Gonna need to replace that.” I go to work on getting the broken nut off, but it’s a bitch.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” my dad says, and I hear the smile in his voice.

  I hate being gone from home, but I can’t be around Libby all the time. It’s too hard, and I can’t stand the pain of being so close to her and unable to have her. It’s like setting a bottle of one-hundred-year-old whiskey in front of drunk and telling him he can’t have a taste. The drunk will only last so long before he flips the table over and destroys everything.

  “You said you needed my help. I’ll always be here for that, Dad.” I finally free the nut and climb out from under the tractor, wanting to look at the clutch from above.

  “And I said I needed to talk to you,” he says, following me out from under it and standing up.

  He reaches a hand down, pulling me from the ground, and I climb on the tractor, taking the seat. I avoid his last statement, knowing whatever he’s going to say can’t be good.

  “Have you been trying to strip this thing, or did you add some lead to your foot?” I try to distract him with talk about the clutch, but he doesn’t take the bait.

  “You know it makes Carol sad that you don’t come around much anymore.” He waits for me to look at him, and when I do, I see the sincerity in his eyes. “Look, Jasper, I know you travel a lot for work, but it’s not so much and not so far that it should be weeks on end where we don’t see you.”

  “I know, Dad. I’m sorry.” I start to say more, but he cuts me off.

  “Son, you only live in the next town over, not even twenty minutes away from us. You made a big production about wanting to make it on your own and living away from home. I think that’s admirable, and I’m not knocking you for standing on your own two feet. I’ve raised you to be a man, and that’s what a man does.” He reaches out, squeezing my shoulder, and I can feel some tension dissolve at his fatherly touch. “But you need to think of your mom and your sister and what you mean to this family. You ran out of here as fast as you could but didn’t really go too far. I want you to tell me why you’re avoiding your home, and don’t deny that you are. Things have changed, and we all know it. You’re making a good living with what you do, and it’s time we had a serious talk about your future and what that means for all of us.”

  I look away from him to the afternoon sunshine, letting it blind me a little. I want the light to blur my vision so that I don’t have to see the look on his face. If he could read my mind and what I truly want, the disappointment would be too great. I open my mouth a couple of times to unburden myself, but then stop. Telling him what’s in my heart would only relieve my guilt for a moment. It wouldn’t change anything, and it would only hurt him, so there’s no fucking point in passing it to someone else.

  “Dad,” I say, letting out a long breath. I don’t know what should come next, so I try to think of a reason why I’m avoiding my family.

  “Jasper, Carol and I have talked about what we think is best for you and—”

  His words are cut off by the sound of a truck pulling up, and we both look over to see it’s John Bishop. And he looks mad as hell.

  “Well, shit. That didn’t take long,” I say, climbing off the tractor.

  “What did you do?” my dad asks as we walk in the direction of the truck.

  “Nothing really. Just punched his kid in the mouth.”

  We meet Mr. Bishop in the middle, and as he gets closer, I see he’s mad as hell.

  “You broke his nose,” Mr. Bishop says by way of greeting, and my dad steps in front of him, shielding me.

  “Your boy ought to keep his hands off my sister,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m not sorry I broke the little shit’s nose. I’m sorry I don’t have a claim on Libby to keep people from thinking they can touch her.

  My dad looks between the two of us—me standing there casually without an ounce of remorse, the older man with a red face, now stumbling over his words.

  “He didn’t…she’s. They’re dating,” Mr. Bishop finally says, and anger flares inside me.

  Libby hadn’t said anything like that to me in the truck, but it’s not like I gave her a chance to. I was too busy pawing at her and scaring her half to death to let her explain the situation. Goddamn it, I’m an asshole. I open my mouth to apologize, but my dad’s voice stops me.

  “No she isn’t, John. And I’d thank you to inform your son of that. Nothing against you and yours, but my daughter made it very clear that she isn’t dating anyone at the moment.”

  The relief that floods me is almost comical. I want to laugh and fall to my knees all at the same time, but I don’t do either. Instead, I hold my pose and let the information sink in, knowing I did the right thing. At least, I think I did.

  Mr. Bishop looks between the two of us and sees that there isn’t a fight he’s going to win out here today. He takes a step back from my dad and gives me a hard look.

  “I won’t be responsible if my boy tries to settle a score with you. I’m warning you now to watch your ass.”

  “You tell him once he quits crying to his daddy to come see me. I’ll give him another ass-whooping to carry home to you.”

  Mr. Bishop’s face turns seventeen shades of red before he turns and stomps off in the
direction of his truck. My dad gives me a look that tells me there was no need to poke the bear, but I shrug.

  “Did he really put his hands on Libby?” my dad asks, and I see his fists clench at his side.

  He’s always been as protective of her as I have, and I like that about him. My dad never distanced himself from her and always calls her his daughter. He could have just as easily called her his stepdaughter, but he loves her like she’s his own. And I know that means a lot to her.

  I let out a breath and answer truthfully. “Probably wasn’t the kind of touch that deserved a broken nose, but I could tell he’s the kind of guy that wasn’t going to settle for only that.”

  “Sounds like you have him pegged.” The question is there in his voice, and for a moment he gives me a strange look, but then it passes. “Glad you were there to keep her safe.”

  He claps me on my shoulder and walks back over to the tractor. All talk about me staying gone so long is forgotten as we work on the old beast. I can feel something between us, and I have a suspicion there is more he wants to say, but he’s saving it for another time.

  I’m both thankful and terrified of what’s to come, because I have a sinking feeling that my dad is seeing some of the things that I’ve always been so careful to hide.

  5

  Libby

  I put the lid back on the pot of sauce that’s been simmering for a while, before making my way over to the oven to check on the cherry pie. The scent of the food we’ve been cooking all day fills the house and it smells wonderful.

  “You should probably make another since Jasper is here. He can eat one of your pies all by himself.” Mom’s chopping lettuce for the salad and doesn't look up when she says it.

  I thought the same thing, too. Before distance started to grow between Jasper and me, I used to always cook for him. I know my cherry pie is his favorite, and that’s why I made it today. I smile, thinking back to how he was always my tester for anything new I wanted to try in the kitchen. He’d sit at the counter for hours with me while I cooked, and when I was younger he would always handle stuff he didn’t think I should be doing, like taking things out of the oven or cutting something up.

  He acted like my own personal safety monitor in the kitchen. I miss those days. But everything is changing. Jasper no longer lives here, and it isn’t the way it used to be. I don’t need him to slice my apples for me anymore, no matter if I still want him to or not. He has better things to do these days, and I’m not a part of his life now.

  “Maybe, but we made a giant pot of meatballs, and I also have all these cookies. I’m not sure we’ll even make it to the pie.” I wipe my hands on my apron and see I’ve gotten a lot of stains on this one. I pull it off and grab another from the bottom kitchen drawer. I change my apron multiple times when I cook. It’s weird, but I love so many of them I find myself doing it just so I can wear each of them more often.

  “Some of the ladies in town were asking me about your aprons. They wanted to know if you sold them,” Mom says as she starts to shred the cheese for the salad.

  I walk over and grab the bowls out of the cabinet for her, setting them down next to her.

  “I was kinda thinking about it. Nicole knows how to design websites and says she can make one up for me if I want.” I like this idea more than the prospect of making pies all the time. I love baking, but it takes a lot of time and needs to be tightly scheduled. With the aprons, I can do them whenever, and I can always change things up.

  “Is that what you want to do?”

  I shrug. I’m feeling lost and I don’t know why. “I love making them. I hadn’t really thought about making them to sell. I might like it. Plus, it could be more flexible when I start school in the fall. Make my own hours.”

  I feel my mom's stare, though I don’t look up. It has to be one of those mother things where you can look at your child and they feel it.

  “You don’t seem too excited about college.”

  I keep my hands busy, avoiding her gaze. “I’m not, if I’m being honest. I thought it was what I was supposed to do next,” I admit.

  I always did well in school and even graduated at the top of my class. But that’s not saying a lot with how small our schools are. Although I excelled in the classroom, school was never something I enjoyed. I went to class and did what I was supposed to, but at the end of the day, there was nothing interesting enough to make me want to keep going.

  Looking up, I meet her eyes and see the soft smile of understanding in them. The comfort is a relief, and I relax my hip against the counter.

  “You know you can take some time off, baby girl. You're young, and you’ve got time to figure out what you want to do. Maybe even find yourself first.”

  “I can’t stay here forever. I’ll think of something.” I step away from her and go back over to the stove. I stir the sauce, trying to keep my thoughts hidden. I don’t want my mom to see how unsettled I’m feeling, because she’ll worry. When I glance over at her, she’s staring right at me her eyes narrowed. She gets up from the bar where she’s been working and comes around to me.

  “Baby girl, you can stay here forever. You know that, right? Tell me you know that.”

  I can see that what I said upset her. Crap. That’s what I was trying not to do. “Of course I know that, Mom.”

  She pulls me into a hug, and I hug her back. Some of my worry slips away as her comforting arms surround me. I don't know how she does it, but being around my mom always makes me feel better.

  I shouldn’t have told her that, but I didn’t mean it like I had to leave. More that I should, because it was getting to be time. My mom had me young, and her own parents tried to talk her out of having me. But she didn’t listen. She knew she wanted me no matter what, so she went out on her own and made a life for us. It wasn’t anything fancy, but I never went without. Never thought I wasn’t loved. My mom worked hard for us. Then she found Ned and we both adored him immediately.

  She’s spent her whole life focusing on me and being the best mom anyone could ask for. I don’t want her to worry about me anymore, because she’s done enough of it. I want her to be happy and don’t want to do anything that might hurt her happiness here. This family is everything to her, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.

  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.

&
nbsp; “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.