Chapter 2

Meghan's POV

The next morning, I woke up feeling like a Disney princess who’d just found out her castle had a fully-stocked bar.

Sunlight was streaming through my window, birds were probably chirping somewhere (I couldn’t hear ‘em, but it felt that kind of day) and my whole body was humming with this warm fizzy afterglow.

Yeah, he’d run away. But he’d also kissed me! He’d touched me with his heart was pounding under my hand. Life was quite frankly awesome!

My phone started blaring some obnoxious pop song from my nightstand, seriously harshing my mellow. I fumbled for it, squinting at the screen.

Mom. Of course.

I took a deep breath, plastered on a smile I knew she wouldn’t be able to see but would definitely be able to hear, and hit answer.

“Hey, Mom! What’s shakin’?”

“Meghan, honey! Just checking in. How are you? How’s my brother? Is he giving you any trouble?”

Her voice was all warmth and concern, the same as it was every single morning and just like that, a little chunk of my awesome mood iced over as guilt did a backflip in my stomach. This woman, my sweet, worried mom who trusted me completely had no idea her daughter was trying to fuck her brother.

“Nah, he’s fine. We’re fine. It’s all good. He’s… uh… still sleeping,” I said, my voice a little too bright I cringed at myself.

“And you? How are you holding up, sweetie? I know deferring school was a big ask. I feel just terrible about it.”

“Mom, stop. It’s cool. The house is huge, the food’s free, and Alex is…” I trailed off, my brain offering up a flash of him pinning me to the desk, his mouth on my neck. “...quiet. He’s very quiet. It’s like a weird, gothic retreat. I’m basically meditating.”

She laughed and the sound made me feel even worse. We chatted for a few more minutes before she finally let me go.

I tossed the phone back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

“You are a terrible person, Meghan,” I announced to the empty room. Then I grinned. “But you’re a happy terrible person.”

After a quick shower and a bowl of cereal big enough to feed a small army, I realized the house was still dead silent. Like, too silent. Usually, by now, I’d hear Alex moving around in his room or the careful tap-tap-tap of his cane down the hall.

A little knot of worry started to form in my gut. I finished my chores, the silence getting louder with every passing minute. Screw it. I went to his door and knocked.

“Alex? You awake?”

No answer. I knocked again, louder.

“Hey. You good in there? You want some coffee? I make it real good. It’s brown and wet and everything.”

Still nothing. What if he’d… I don’t know, tripped? Fallen? Had a heart attack from all the sexual frustration? My mind started racing with awful possibilities.

Okay, new plan. I jogged to my room, dug through a little trinket box, and found it.. a bobby pin. Mom had taught me how to pick a lock when I was twelve, saying, “A woman should never feel trapped, honey.” Pretty sure she meant in a metaphorical empower-yourself way, not for breaking into your reclusive uncle’s bedroom, but details, details.

I bent the pin, stuck it in the keyhole on his door and jiggled it around. After a few seconds, there was a satisfying click. Bingo.

I pushed the door open slowly.

“Alex? I’m coming in, okay? You weren’t answering and I got worried...”

The room was dark, curtains drawn tight. And there he was, under the blankets on the bed, facing away from the door. He didn’t move and he didn’t yell at me for picking the lock.. he just lay there.

“Go away, Meghan.” His voice didn’t even sound like him.

“You okay?” I asked nervously.

He let out a bitter shaky laugh.

“Oh, just fantastic. Peachy.”

I sat on the edge of the bed and he flinched like I’d burned him.

“Alex, about yesterday… it’s okay. Really. We’re both adults now so it’s fine.”

He finally rolled over. His face was pale, his unseeing eyes aimed somewhere past my shoulder.

“Fine? It is the farthest thing from fine,” he spat, his voice gaining a little heat. “I am a sick, pathetic pervert. A monster no one wants!”

“That’s not true,” I started, but he cut me off.

“It started a year ago,” he whispered, the anger draining away into pure misery. “Your mother… she sent me pictures. From your nineteenth birthday. You were in a blue dress. You were smiling.” He dragged a hand over his face. “I was… trapped. By you. Your curves. Your… God, forgive me… your full tits. I started writing those… those filthy stories that same week and then the accident happened not long after. Don’t you see? It’s punishment. Divine retribution for my sins! For lusting after my own niece!”

My heart was doing a weird, painful squeeze. Part of me was soaring... a year. He’s wanted me for a whole year!... and the other part was aching for how much pain he was in.

“Alex, that’s not how it works,” I said softly. I reached out to touch his arm but he pulled away.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice cracking. “Just… don’t. Please. Can you just give me some space? Just for today.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to shake him and tell him he was being an idiot. But I just nodded even though he couldn’t see it.

“Okay.”

I left the room, closing the door softly behind me. This was not how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to be all, “You’re right, Meghan, let’s make passionate love forever,” not wallowing in a pit of self-hatred.

***

The days that followed were… awful. Alex became a ghost in his own house. He actively avoided me. I’d hear him feel his way along the walls, trying to do everything himself, refusing any help.

Then, a few days later, I was passing his room and heard a thud and a frustrated groan. The door was ajar so I peeked in.

He was trying to get dressed. He’d managed his boxer shorts, thank you Jesus, but was fumbling with a pair of trousers, his face morphed concentration and irritation. And oh, wow.

Okay.. The sight of him, all tall and brooding and almost naked sent a jolt straight through me and my mouth went dry.

Control yourself, Meghan. Do not pounce on the vulnerable blind man.

“Need a hand?” I asked, trying to sound casual and not like I was mentally cataloging every line of his torso.

He jumped, startled.

“Meghan. I’ve got it.”

“You’re trying to put your pants on backwards. The tag goes in the back. Here.”

I moved into the room and took the trousers from his hands. My fingers “accidentally” brushed against the front of his boxers.. once and then again as I helped guide his legs into the pants. A little thrill shot through me. He was getting hard.. I could feel it.

He froze with a flush creeping up his neck but he didn’t push me away. He just stood there, letting me help him with his breath hitching slightly.

After I’d finished, buttoning his jeans for him, he didn’t immediately retreat. He just stood there with his head bowed.

“Thank you,” he muttered, so quiet I almost missed it.

“Anytime,” I said, and I meant it.

“I used to write under another name,” he said suddenly. “Built a whole… empire, I suppose. Nobody knew it was me because I liked the silence and the anonymity.”

I looked up, surprised.

“I get that,” I said. “Sometimes I think I deferred college just to avoid picking a major. Too many choices, you know? Makes you lonely, in a way.”

He nodded with a faint almost-smile touching his lips.

“Yes. I know that feeling precisely.”

My phone suddenly started ringing from the kitchen, blaring that stupid pop song again.

“Ugh, hold that thought,” I said, hopping out. “Don’t go getting all broody and silent again while I’m gone.”

I jogged into the kitchen and scooped my phone off the counter. It was Mia, my best friend.

“Hey, girl!” I answered, leaning against the fridge. “What’s up? You will not believe the week I’ve had...”

A voice on the other end cut me off with a question that immediately froze me in place…