MasukArlyn
I stood there for several long seconds after Reid disappeared down the hallway, my mind blank except for the echo of his footsteps and the small, confused meow from whatever tiny creature he had carried. A kitten. Reid, the same man who had looked at me like I was a problem he wished someone else would solve, had been holding a fluffy little animal like it was the most normal thing in the world.
It made him seem softer. Dangerous. Complicated.
I did not want complicated.
I forced myself to start walking toward the stairs, pretending my pulse had not spiked just from seeing him half dressed. The house was too quiet on this end, every sound amplified. The faint creak of the floor under my socks. The distant clatter of dishes from the kitchen downstairs. The hum of the heating system.
The entire time, all I could think about was the way his eyes had dragged over me. Slow. Intentional. Like he was checking if I had changed overnight.
I reached the bottom floor and inhaled the warm scent of food. Something buttery and comforting with a hint of herbs. My stomach grumbled. I had barely eaten the day before with all the drama, and apparently my body had decided to remind me of that fact now.
As I walked into the dining room, I saw Ella first. She was perched on the edge of a chair, scrolling through her phone with a look of mild annoyance. Probably because no one had paid her enough attention in the last two minutes.
She looked up and blinked when she saw me.
"Oh. You are awake."
"Good morning to you too." I replied, pulling out the chair across from her.
She tilted her head. "It is literally one in the afternoon."
"Then good afternoon."
She rolled her eyes and dropped her phone onto the table with a soft thud. "Mom said you freaked out last night. I would have paid money to see Reid carrying you like a sack of potatoes."
Heat hit my cheeks instantly. "I did not freak out."
"Oh, come on. A full-grown man picked you up, carried you up the stairs, and put you to bed. That is not nothing."
"It was nothing." I insisted, even though my face probably said otherwise.
Ella leaned forward, smirking like she knew every lie that had ever existed. "You know, for someone who claims she does not care, you sure turn red whenever his name comes up."
"I am not red."
"You are tomato red."
I groaned and put my forehead on the table. This was already too much.
A soft laugh drifted from the doorway. I jolted upright.
Reid was walking in, still shirtless, though now he had a flannel draped loosely over his shoulders like he remembered halfway that clothes existed. The kitten was cradled against his chest, a tiny white puffball with mismatched eyes.
He stopped when he noticed me staring. I immediately looked away, pretending to study the salt shaker like it was the most fascinating object ever created.
Ella gasped. "Oh my God, what is that?"
Reid raised a brow at her. "A cat."
"I can see that." She got up, walked closer, and squinted. "Where did it come from?"
"Back garden." He set the kitten gently on the table, then picked up a napkin to wipe its paws. "It was crying under the back porch. Probably abandoned."
Ella softened instantly. "Aww. Poor baby."
I watched quietly. Something warm tugged inside my chest. His hands were gentle as he cleaned the tiny creature, and when the kitten curled against his palm with a small purr, he let out the smallest smile. Something subtle. Barely there. But real.
I should not have noticed how beautiful that smile was.
I really should not have noticed.
Ella reached over and scratched the kitten behind the ears. "Are you keeping it?"
"No." He lifted his gaze to me for a moment, unreadable. "It will get attached if it stays too long. I will find a shelter after the fundraiser tonight."
My mom walked in then, heels clicking against the floor, perfectly dressed like she was going to a photo shoot. "Oh good. Everyone is here. Arlyn, sweetheart, did you eat yet?"
"Not yet."
"Good. The chef made that pasta you love."
She smiled at Reid next, her expression soft but cautious. He gave her a small nod, polite but distant.
I watched the exchange and felt a strange ache in my chest. They were still strangers. Still dancing around each other. Still unsure where they belonged in this new blended version of our lives.
Once food was served, Ella launched into some story about her friend getting into a fight with her ex-boyfriend, and my mom pretended to listen while sneaking glances at Reid, probably hoping he would join the conversation. He did not. He ate quietly, focusing on the kitten that had now fallen asleep on a folded towel beside him.
At some point his gaze drifted toward me again. Not hostile. Not warm. Just watching. Observing. As if he was trying to figure out what kind of person I was.
I looked down at my plate, fighting the thudding in my chest.
After lunch, everyone dispersed. Ella skipped off to go get her nails redone because apparently the shade of red she had chosen two days ago was now "emotionally exhausting." My mom rushed upstairs to get ready for the fundraiser. And Reid, of course, collected the kitten and headed toward the back of the house.
I should have left him alone.
I knew that.
But something pulled me toward the glass doors leading out to the yard.
I stepped outside. The cold air immediately bit at my skin, crisp and sharp. The sky was an overcast gray that somehow made the garden look even more beautiful.
Reid was sitting on the back steps with the kitten in his lap, stroking its head slowly. The contrast of his large hand against its tiny body made my heart twist.
He noticed me and paused. "You need something?"
His tone was not rude. Just neutral.
"No." I wrapped my arms around myself. "I just came for air."
He nodded once and looked back at the kitten. For a few seconds we stood in silence, the kind of quiet that felt heavy and delicate at the same time.
I swallowed. "It likes you. The kitten, I mean."
"It likes warmth." He shrugged, though his thumb still brushed its fur with more care than he probably intended anyone to notice.
I stepped closer without thinking. "Do you find a lot of strays around here?"
"Sometimes. Usually raccoons." His lips twitched faintly. "This one is nicer."
Another silence settled. This one warmer. Softer.
Finally he spoke again. "You should get some rest. You look tired."
I blinked. "Are you saying I look bad?"
He met my eyes directly, steady and unflinching. "No. Just tired."
Something fluttered inside me, unsteady and reckless.
I nodded. "Right. I will go do that."
As I turned to leave, the kitten let out a tiny mew, and for a moment I wished I were small enough to be gathered gently into Reid’s hands like that. Safe. Protected. Warm.
I pushed the thought away quickly.
I could not afford thoughts like that. Not about him. Not about the man who was now technically my stepbrother. Not about the man who looked at me like he was torn between curiosity and something he refused to name.
I walked back inside, but the feeling stayed with me.
JaneI had been sitting in the café for almost forty minutes before I admitted the obvious truth to myself.I had no plan… None whatsoever.I knew this café because Arlyn had mentioned it in passing weeks ago; it was the place Reid sometimes worked when he wanted quiet without isolation.That alone felt ridiculous now, having to stalk an old friend for the sake of another friend without a plan in mind.I wrapped my fingers around my cup of coffee, now cold, and stared at him.Reid Branderton sat three tables away from me, angled slightly toward the window, shoulders hunched in that way men get when they are trying to make themselves smaller than their thoughts. A laptop was open in front of him, untouched for several minutes. His fingers rested on the keyboard, unmoving, while his gaze stayed fixed on nothing in particular.He looked… distracted and tired.Not the kind of tiredness that came from lack of sleep. The deeper kind. The kind that settled into bones.I swallowed.Arlyn’s fa
ArlynI kept waiting for him after the incident with the boys.That was the cruelest part, the way I eagerly watched out for him in class or how I moved back into my apartment expecting to run into him since we were practically neighbors.Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I walked into the lecture hall five minutes early and took my usual seat, my heart doing that stupid hopeful thing even though my brain somehow knew better.I would scan the front of the room, half-expecting to see Reid standing there again.But he never showed up.At first, I told myself it was a scheduling thing. PhD students were busy. He’d probably show up next lecture. Or the one after that.By the end of the second week, denial stopped working. He was never coming to fill in for the ill professor again.A new lecturer had taken over. Older and soft-spoken with kind eyes. He fumbled with the projector and joked nervously about not being as intimidating as the Ph.D. student before him, and the whole class roar
ReidSaving her should have been the end of it.A clean, sharp moment of intervention followed by distance. At least that's what I told myself. Step in if necessary. Walk away immediately after. No lingering…But rules are only useful when your body listens to your head.Mine didn’t.From the second I left her standing there, I felt off balance, like I’d stepped off solid ground into a pit. My heart wouldn’t slow, and I developed a constant migraine.I kept reviewing the scene with Arlyn on the way home. Her eyes. The way she said please. The way my name almost slipped from her mouth when she tried to thank me.That was the worst part.Not the boys. Not the confrontation.The fact that she still reached for me instinctively.I locked my apartment door and leaned my forehead against it for a long moment, breathing through my mouth like my therapist once taught me.It didn’t help.My place was quiet in the particular way that amplifies everything you don’t want to hear. Your own thought
ReidDistance is a discipline… that was something I learned at an early age, long before I took anger management classes, before discipline turned into survival, before silence became my preferred language. Distance keeps things neat and easy to control. It keeps you from wanting what you shouldn’t want and touching what will inevitably burn you.So when the new semester began, I treated distance like doctrine.I arrived early to lectures and left late. I kept my eyes on my notes, my voice neutral, and my posture professional. I addressed students by last names only. I didn’t linger after class. I didn’t invite conversation. I didn’t acknowledge familiarity where familiarity very clearly existed.And Arlyn?She became a stranger.Or at least, I pretended she was.The first time I saw her seated two rows back, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, pen tucked between her fingers as she laughed quietly with Jane, something twisted low in my chest. It was instinctive… and unwanted. I cr
ArlynEveryone had gone up to their rooms. Jane wanted to stay in mine with me, but the head maid in the house wouldn't hear of it. She reluctantly agreed to the guest room.And I was left all alone in the anteroom… with its suffocating atmosphere.Even though I was looking out the window, I didn't seem to be breathing in much air and wasn't really seeing anything. Instead, my mind kept trying to make sense of the tangled web that had become my life of late. Makes me wonder just what fate had in store for me.A part of me itched to seek out Jane and get her to tell me why she never once mentioned Reid, but I already knew what the end result was going to be: she would just shrug and say it wasn’t something she expected to come up. And she’d be right. How could any of us have expected any of this?I didn't want to think about him… or pay close attention to the little things about him, like the way he walks, how his eyes wrinkled a bit at the corners and twinkled the few times he smiled,
ArlynIf someone had told me fate came with a sense of humor, I would’ve laughed.Standing there in the living room, watching Jane grin at Reid like a fool, I wasn’t laughing.I was reeling.“You went to school together?” I asked again, because surely my ears had malfunctioned. Today had already pushed the limits of what I could process, and my brain was stubbornly refusing to add this to the pile.Jane nodded enthusiastically. “Middle school. St. Gregory’s. He was the quiet type and always had a book… Scrawny, too.”Reid made a low sound that might’ve been a warning.I blinked slowly, still shocked at this latest development. “Scrawny?”Jane laughed, completely unbothered by the lethal look Reid shot her.“Oh yeah. You wouldn’t believe it. He barely talked to anyone except me.”That earned her a look from Reid, sharp and unreadable, and for some reason it made my chest hurt.Barely talked to anyone except me.I glanced at Reid, half-expecting him to deny it, to shut it down the way h







