DIRTY SINS: A compilation of short forbidden stories

Yasmin’s POV

The next time I saw my younger stepbrothers again, my jaw nearly dropped.

I came home for Christmas, and getting there was a nightmare. I had to cancel appointments, rearrange meetings, and shift my entire schedule just to make it back. If I didn't, Mom would blow up my phone with endless calls, and my stepfather, Anthony, would launch into one of his long speeches about how important it was to spend time with family.

As frustrating as it could be sitting through their lectures and constant fussing, I loved them both. Especially Anthony. He had a way of understanding me that Mom never quite did.

Then there were my triplet stepbrothers.

We didn't talk much. They barely called, and most of the time, it felt like we lived in completely different worlds.

Hans, the eldest, or at least the one who constantly reminded everyone he was the eldest, worked as a firefighter. Mitch, the middle triplet, was a hockey captain. And Devon, the youngest, was an MMA fighter, which I thought was pretty cool.

The last time I'd seen them was after Mom and Anthony got married, right after I graduated high school. Back then, things had been easy. We'd joke around, hang out, and actually talk.

But once I left for college, something changed.

The calls became less frequent. The texts stopped. And before I knew it, years had slipped by with barely any contact between us.

And now that I was back, I couldn't wait to see them.

Mom met me at the door before I could even knock.

The smell of cinnamon and baked cookies drifted out from the house, wrapping around me along with the warmth spilling from inside.

"Christ, Yas." Her eyes widened the second she saw me. "What the hell did you do to your hair?"

"Hello, Mom." I leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

I knew she'd hate the red hair. Honestly, that was half the reason I'd dyed it in the first place. Sometimes I liked pushing her buttons. It was the only way to remind her I wasn't sixteen anymore.

"Yasmin..." Her brows pulled together.

Knowing exactly where this conversation was headed, I cut her off before she could start.

"Merry Christmas." I placed both hands on her shoulders and flashed my brightest smile.

Her lips parted, ready to continue the lecture anyway, but Anthony's voice interrupted from inside the house.

"Yasmin."

I almost sighed in relief.

Yeah. I really needed that interruption.

"Good to see you too, Dad."

I'd always called him that. Even if I had no idea who my biological father was, Anthony had never made me feel like I was missing one.

He crossed the room and pulled me into a hug. The familiar scent of his cologne instantly brought back childhood memories.

When he finally stepped back, his eyes drifted to my hair.

"Your hair's beautiful."

I giggled.

Then I turned to look at Mom.

She was still standing by the door, fingers curled tightly around the handle. Her face hadn't softened one bit.

Not even a smile.

"You can't love her hair, Anthony." Mom finally said with a dramatic sigh.

"What's wrong with it?" I asked softly. "I'm not a kid anymore. I'm twenty-four, for Christ's sake. Whatever I do, it's on me."

"And please close the door, honey. It's freezing outside, and we might as well freeze inside if you leave it open," Anthony said, slipping a hand into his coat pocket as a cold draft swept through the hallway.

"That's not what I meant." Mom pushed the door shut and walked toward me, her expression softening. "Your hair is... beautiful."

She said it like the words physically hurt.

Knowing my mother, they probably did.

"I'm just worried people will get the wrong idea about you."

"Then let them talk, Mom." I shrugged. "Who cares?"

Her shoulders dropped in defeat.

"Anyway, welcome home, darling. I'm glad you've finally decided to grace us with your presence."

This time, she pulled me into a real hug.

I laughed and wrapped my arms around her, breathing in the familiar scent of her floral perfume. For a second, it felt like I'd never left.

When we pulled apart, a deep, husky voice drifted through the room.

A voice smooth enough to melt a thousand women's hearts.

"Welcome home, sister."

I turned.

And there he was.

Hans stood at the edge of the staircase, one hand resting on the banister.

For a moment, I just stared.

He looked nothing like the boy I remembered.

Well, not nothing.

The same almond-shaped blue eyes stared back at me, but everything else had changed. His features were sharper now, his shoulders broader. He looked older, more mature.

And annoyingly attractive.

When exactly had my stepbrother become that sexy?

Before I could fully process how different Hans looked, Mitch stepped out of the storage room and my breath caught.

He was wearing gloves and a dark coat, his hair slicked back like some mafia boss straight out of a movie. A smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned against the doorway, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Years of hockey had clearly done him favors. He carried himself with the easy confidence of an athlete.

Then came Devon.

He strolled down the stairs like he owned the place.

He must have just gotten out of the shower because damp strands of dark hair clung to his forehead, and the faint scent of soap drifted through the air. He wasn't wearing a shirt, completely unbothered by the winter weather outside.

Seriously?

This was ridiculous.

It was like they'd coordinated their entrances beforehand.

One after another.

God, what exactly had happened while I'd been away?

I was so busy staring that I didn't even realize someone was calling my name.

"Yas... Yas..."

Mom lightly tapped my shoulder.

I blinked and tore my gaze away.

"Yes?"

"Mitch has been calling your name," she whispered.

"Oh. Right."

I cleared my throat and walked over to them.

"If it isn't my triplet younger brothers."

"Actually, I think we all look bigger than you now, Yas," Devon teased.

"Well, I'm still your older sister, and that's not changing." I pointed at him. "And find something to wear. It's cold outside."

"Merry Christmas, Yassy," Hans said, pulling me into a hug.

I rolled my eyes immediately.

Some things, apparently, never changed.

I was the first to pull away.

"It's actually Yasmin," I corrected, giving his arm a playful nudge. "Not Yassy."

"You know how much I love calling you Yassy."

"Whatever."

That nickname had annoyed me for years.

"Okay," Mom chimed in, linking her arm through mine. "She's just gotten back from a very long journey. She needs to rest."

They all nodded and stepped aside as Mom and I headed toward the stairs.

"Merry Christmas, Yassy!" Hans called after me.

The others burst out laughing.

"It's Yasmin!" I shouted over my shoulder before continuing upstairs, their laughter following me all the way down the hall.

***

Later that day, Mom and Dad went out to visit a friend, leaving me alone with my stepbrothers.

I was sprawled across my bed with my earbuds plugged in, completely absorbed in a Christmas movie. Outside my window, snowflakes drifted down in thick white sheets, tapping softly against the glass. The room felt colder by the minute, and unfortunately, I didn't have a fireplace like the rest of the house.

Still, the movie was good enough to keep my mind off it.

I was so engrossed that I didn't notice my annoying stepbrothers walking into my room.

Not until someone tickled my side.

"Jesus, what the fuck!"

I practically launched off the bed.

Ripping out my earbuds, I spun around to find all three of them standing in front of me.

Towering over me.

Like I was some sort of sacrificial lamb.

"What's going on?" I asked, eyeing each of them suspiciously.

"Let's play a game," Hans said, folding his arms across his chest.

"What kind of game?"

"Hide and seek."

I nearly burst out laughing.

"Hide and seek?" I repeated. "What are you, twelve?"

A chuckle escaped me as I reached for my phone.

"Go away."

The second my fingers touched it, Mitch snatched it from my hand.

"Hey!"

I lunged for it, but he took two steps back, holding it above my reach.

"Give it back."

"Nope," Devon said coolly, slipping a hand into his pocket.

"You have to play with us."

I slapped a hand against my forehead.

Honestly, I'd spent all day thinking they'd matured while I was gone.

Apparently not.

They were still the same idiots I'd grown up with.

We used to spend hours playing hide-and-seek before I left for college. Then somehow, over the years, things changed. The calls stopped. The texts became rare. They grew distant.

And now they were standing in my room trying to force me into a childhood game.

"Give me back my phone," I said through gritted teeth.

"No way." Hans shook his head. "Come on. It's going to be fun."

I looked from Hans to Mitch to Devon.

Three stubborn faces.

Three idiots.

At this point, I didn't think I had much of a choice.

"Fine," I groaned.