Chapter 2 :Pretend Family

My mother looks too happy for bad news.

 Which means it’s very bad news.

 She’s glowing.  My stepfather is glowing.  They’re both smiling in that way parents smile when they’ve made a big decision that will ruin your life but they think you will thank them for it one day.

 I sit across from them in the living room, trying to stay calm.

 Liam drops into the seat beside me.  He doesn’t sit close, but he sits close enough that I feel his warmth like a danger.

 Mom claps her hands.  “We have an announcement.”

 My stomach sinks.  “Please tell me you’re not having another baby.”

 She laughs.  “No.  Nothing like that.”

 My stepfather clears his throat.  “We’re taking a year off.”

 I blink.  “From what?”

 “From everything,” he says proudly.  “Work.  Stress.  Life.  We’re going on a twelve-month anniversary trip.”

 I look at them.

 A year?

 A whole year?

 Mom nods.  “We need this.  We deserve this.  Our first marriages were so tough.  We want to enjoy this new beginning.”

 I force a smile.  “That’s… great.  Really.”

 Inside, I’m yelling.

 My mother smiles.  “We’ll be traveling around Europe.  Asia.  Everywhere we’ve always wanted.”

 “That’s… a lot,” I say.

 Liam hasn’t spoken yet.  But I feel him go hard beside me.  His quiet is heavy.  Uncomfortable.  Sharp in the air.

 Mom keeps talking, excitement spilling out.  “But don’t worry.  You two will be fine here.  The house is big enough for both of you.”

 My heart stops.  “Wait.  Waitwhat?”

 My dad laughs.  “Of course we’re not selling the house or leaving you with strangers.  You and Liam will stay here while we’re gone.”

 Liam suddenly talks.  His voice is low.  Steady.  Too steady.

 “You didn’t think to tell us earlier?”

 Mom waves her hand.  “We wanted it to be a surprise.”

 A surprise.

 Sure.

 A year of forced closeness with the one person I can’t even look at without feeling something dangerous.

 I swallow hard.  “Mom, this is a big deal.”

 She smiles.  “You boys get along well enough.”

 I cough.  Loudly.

 Liam snorts under his breath.

 My dad shrugs.  “You’re adults.  You’ll manage.”

 My pulse races.  My mind spins.

 I try to answer, but words stick in my throat.

 Liam talks instead.  “We can’t agree to this.”

 Mom frowns.  “Why not?”

 He hesitates.  He doesn’t want to share anything.  I can tell.

 He can’t explain the real reason.

 Neither can I.

 So he settles for something vague.  “It’s… complicated.”

 Mom folds her arms.  “Nothing is complicated.  You two are practically brothers.”

 The word hits both of us like a slap.

 I speak before I can stop myself.  “We’re not brothers.”

 My mother sighs.  “Nico”

 “We’re not,” I repeat.

 Liam looks away.  His jaw tightens.

 Mom doesn’t understand why that word is deadly.  She doesn’t understand the garden.  She doesn’t understand three years of silence and stress that feels like a match waiting for a spark.

 “We’re leaving in three days,” my dad says.  “It’s settled.”

 Three days.

 Three days until my world crashes.

 Mom stands and goes to the kitchen, humming happily.

 My stepfather follows her.

 The moment the door closes, the stress snaps.

 Liam stands.  “Say something.”

 I look away.  “There’s nothing to say.”

 He scoffs.  “You’re panicking.”

 “I’m not.”

 “You are.”

 “Shut up.”

 He smiles bitterly.  “You’re predictable.”

 “And you’re annoying,” I fire back.

 “Good.  We’re even.”

 I stand too fast.  My chest feels tight.  My hands feel hot.  “Stop talking to me.”

 He steps closer.  “Then stop looking at me.”

 “I’m not looking at you.”

 “Yes, you are.”

 “Get out of my way.”

 “No.”

 His voice is soft.  Too soft.  The softness is worse than anger.

 I look at him.  “Why do you keep doing this?”

 “Doing what?”

 “Pushing me.  Cornering me.  Acting like you have something to say but never saying it.”

 His eyes flash.  “Maybe I don’t say it because you don’t want to hear it.”

 “Then don’t say it,” I whisper.

 He breathes out slowly.  “Fine.”

 I turn to walk away.

He grabs my wrist again.

 Always the wrist.

 Like that’s the only place he knows how to touch.

 His voice is low.  “But don’t pretend you’re not scared.”

 I spin back around.  “Scared of what?”

 “Of being alone with me.”

 My breath catches.  He sees it.  He knows it.  He uses it.

 “I’m not scared of you,” I lied.

 He steps in.  Closer.  So close I feel every breath he exhales.  My heart slams against my ribs.

 “You are,” he whispers.  “And that’s what scares me.”

 My eyes burn.  My throat tightens.  “Let go of me.”

 “Say please.”

 I shove him hard.  “Don’t touch me.”

 He doesn’t fall.  Doesn’t break eye contact.

 “You’re shaking,” he says softly.

 I hate that he can see everything.

 I turn and walk out before I can break.

 In the hallway, I stop to breathe.  I lean against the wall.  My chest rises and falls too fast.

 My mind spins.

 A whole year.

 A whole year with him.

 A whole year pretending nothing ever happened between us.

 I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive it.

 Footsteps approach.

 I stiffen.  “Liam, don’t.”

 “I’m not here to fight,” he says.

 “That would be a first.”

 “Don’t do that.”

 “Do what?”

 “Act like I’m the only one who remembers.”

 My chest burns.  “Stop bringing up the past.”

 He hesitates.  His voice drops.  “I tried to forget it.  You think I didn’t?”

 “Then keep trying.”

 “It doesn’t work.”

 I close my eyes.  “It has to.”

 “Nico”

 “Stop saying my name like that.”

 He sighs.  “We need to figure out how to live together for a year.”

 “No,” I say.  “We need to survive each other for a year.”

 His gaze flickers.  “Same thing.”

 “No, it isn’t.”

 “Then what do you want?”

 I look at him.  Really look at him.

 He looks tired.  Tense.  Frustrated.

 There’s something in his eyes, something he’s hiding.

 I say softly, “I want space.”

 He nods slowly.  “Fine.”

 “And distance.”

 “Fine.”

 “And no talking.”

 “Fine.”

 “And no touching.”

 His mouth twitches.  “That one might be difficult.”

 “Liam.”

 “Fine,” he says again.  “No touching.”

 We stare at each other for too long.

 We always stare for too long.

 A phone buzzes.

 My stepfather returns with his computer.

 “Oh, and one more thing,” he says.  “Liam, you’ll be in charge of all repairs and maintenance while we’re gone.  Nico, you’ll handle all indoor matters, supplies, plans, guest lists, any events we host.”

 I choke.  “Events?”

 My mother calls from the kitchen, “Yes!  Christmas gathering.  New Year’s dinner.  We’ll send the family over!”

 My heart drops.  “The whole family?”

 “Of course,” she says.

 I share a terrified look with Liam.

 He mutters, “This is a nightmare.”

 I say back, “Welcome to my world.”

 My mother waves us off.  “You two will do fine.  You always work well together.”

 We do not.

 We never have.

 We never will.