Meeting the boys.

Mila’s POV

I wasn’t prepared to move to the other end of town in the middle of the school year to live with my father, his new wife, and my new stepbrothers, but here I was.

My chest felt so tight I could barely draw a full breath as the wide porch of my father’s new yard came into view. On the passenger seat, my phone lay dead—a sad reminder of the absolute radio silence from back home.

In less than twenty-four hours, my entire life had been violently turned upside down. I’d been forced to leave my childhood friends behind and the comfort of a school where people actually knew me. All because of a toxic, screaming match with my mother.

“You’re lying, Mila! How could you accuse your father of that?” my mother’s voice rang in my head, each word dripping with pure venom.

I had told her he wasn’t my father and that led to her hitting me across the face.

I could still see her face, twisted in ugly defense of her godforsaken new husband, blind to the way his hands had lingered too long or the way he looked at me. “Get out of my house. If you’re going to try and destroy this family with your filthy lies, you can go live with your real father!” Her tone was mocking.

She had made her choice. She had thrown me under the bus to protect a predator, and I had been effectively exiled.

It made everything feel a hundred times worse because my parents' divorce was still fresh. I was still struggling to wrap my head around the fact that their marriage was completely over, yet they had both somehow managed to separate and move on at lightning speed.

I popped the trunk and hauled the heavy canvas duffel bag out myself. I huffed in pure frustration, adjusting my grip and dragging the dead weight of the bag across the gravel toward the house.

I hadn’t spoken to my father in months—not until last night, when I called him crying from my bedroom floor. But now that I was actually here, I felt cold and withdrawn. Where had he been while my life was turning into a living hell?

As I finally dragged the bag up the steps of the wide porch, the front door swung open wide before I could even reach for the handle.

There stood my father.

“Sweet cheeks,” he called out to me, his voice shaky and entirely unsure as his eyes took me in.

The deadpan, icy look on my face made him instantly uneasy. He bowed his head, a flash of guilt crossing his face, before he stepped forward and opened his arms wide. “Come here, Mila…”

I stared at him with glossy eyes, my lips quivering. I was completely broken, bleeding internally from my mother's betrayal, and a small, pathetic part of me desperately wanted a father’s protective hug. But the walls I’d built over the last twenty-four hours were too thick. I couldn't just let him in. I stood completely rigid, ignoring his open arms until they dropped awkwardly to his sides.

“Mila, you're finally here.”

The voice came from right behind him. It was Carol, his new wife. She offered me a very bright, enthusiastic smile, stepping into the doorway.

I gave her the exact same cold, defensive treatment. I didn't smile back.

My father quickly cleared his throat to break the suffocating tension, stepping back into the hallway. “Come inside, let's get you introduced to everyone."

I dragged my feet across the threshold, my eyes darting around the massive, pristine entryway, looking for exits. Before I could even drop my bag, the first boy popped up from the living room.

I froze mid-step, my guard instantly slamming up.

He had the brightest green eyes that seemed to sparkle when he smiled. He had a messy row of curly hair that all the boys at school seemed to have lately. He towered over me and had an athletic build, like he played sports. I didn’t know how long I had been ogling him until his smile widened.

My face turned red, and I turned away, forcing my attention back to the room.

"Mila, this is Aaron," my father said, gesturing toward him. "One of the twins."

My mind went completely blank. Twins?

Like two identical boys who looked like this… What was his name again? Abel? I swear to God I was listening. My hands balled into fists at my sides as a wave of irritation hit. Why didn’t dad tell me anything? He had been so content with abandoning me at my mother's and going on to build a new family, he didn’t even think to tell me this.

"Nice to meet you, Mila," He said with a warm smile on his face. His voice was a steady, soft baritone. He stepped forward, reaching out to take the heavy bag off my shoulder. I flinched slightly at the sudden movement, but he was gentle, his fingers lightly brushing against mine as he lifted the strap. His skin was unbelievably warm, and he held my gaze with a gentle, intense focus that made my heart do a sudden, nervous flip. For a second, I couldn't look away from him.

My father nodded, looking over his shoulder toward the dark hallway leading to the kitchen. "Where is the other one? Axel?"

Right on cue, Axel appeared.

My jaw nearly dropped and my eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets.

Axel walked out of the kitchen hallway completely bare-chested, his sun-darkened skin and low-slung sweatpants leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Unlike the first brother, he had a bored expression on his face. He was chugging milk straight from the carton, his throat working as he swallowed. It took the last bit of restraint I had to peel my eyes away from his throat.

He looked entirely unbothered by the fact that a complete stranger had just walked into his house.

He lowered the carton, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and his darker green eyes locked onto mine.

He gave me a slow, calculated, scanning look that started at my face, dragged down my body, and went right back up. It was slow but intense. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I let it out when he finally looked away.

"Axel," Carol warned, though she desperately kept her welcoming expression intact for my benefit. "Put the carton away."

Axel completely ignored his mother. His dark eyes stayed fiercely locked onto mine as a small, mocking smirk touched the corner of his lips.

"Welcome to the family, Mila," Axel murmured, his voice a low, gravelly purr that made every single hair on my arms stand up. "I think you're going to make this year very interesting."

He didn't break eye contact as he took another slow sip from the carton. Standing there, caught between the first boy, whose name I already couldn’t remember under the pressure, with the intense, kind eyes, and the arrogant jerk who couldn't even bother to put on a shirt, my throat went completely dry. They looked very similar; it would have been hard to tell the difference between the boys if Axel wasn’t shirtless right now and gawking at me.

I had thought escaping my mother's house was the end of the nightmare. Looking at the two boys who now shared my roof, I realized a completely different kind of danger was just beginning.