Chapter 2

Izzy

I spent the whole afternoon in that room they gave me trying to make it feel like mine instead of some fancy guest suite I didn’t earn.

Mom kept popping in every ten minutes with that bright new-wife smile, handing me extra hangers and asking if I needed help unpacking, while Mr. Holt Dad now, I guess loomed in the doorway talking about how great it was going to be having a photographer in the family.

Riven didn’t show up once. Fine by me. I tossed my clothes into drawers, set my camera gear on the desk by the window, and plugged in my laptop like I was claiming territory.

Every time I thought about him from practice earlier my stomach did that stupid flip, half mad, half something I wasn’t ready to name. “Act tough,” I kept muttering to myself while I hung up shirts. “He’s just an annoying asshole who happens to live here now.”

By evening I was wiped. Dinner was awkward as hell with everyone pretending this shotgun family merge was normal. Riven sat across from me again, barely speaking except to grunt answers to his dad about tomorrow’s practice. I caught him staring once when I reached for the salt eyes narrow, like he was still pissed about my angles from earlier. I kicked his shin under the table on purpose. He kicked back harder and muttered “Watch it” under his breath. Mom laughed like we were already bonding. Yeah, right.

I crashed early, telling everyone I had to be up for more team shots. My bed felt too big, too soft, but sleep hit me fast. Then around three in the morning my bladder woke me up like an alarm. I stumbled out of bed in my old tank top and shorts, eyes half-closed, and headed for my bathroom door. Flipped the light, tried the faucet nothing. Dead. Pipes making some sad gurgling noise like the whole thing gave up. “Great,” I groaned, rubbing my face. “First night and the fancy house is already broken.”

I shuffled downstairs in the dark, found the main bathroom off the hallway, did my business, washed my hands, and started back up. My brain was mush from sleep. Hallway looked the same in every direction, doors all identical in the low light. I pushed open what I thought was mine, crawled under the covers without turning on the lamp, and passed out again, dead to the world.

******

Morning came with screaming. My screaming. And his.

I woke up to a warm body next to me, an arm slung over my waist like it belonged there. My eyes flew open. Riven. In bed. With me. Shirtless, hair messed up, looking as shocked as I felt. We both bolted upright at the same time.

“What the fuck!” I yelled, scrambling back so fast I almost fell off the mattress.

“You!” he shouted right back, voice rough from sleep, eyes wide. “How the hell did you get in here? Get out!”

I grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it. “This is my room! Or I thought… the bathroom didn’t work and I was half asleep and…”

“Your room? This is my room, stepsister. You crawled into my bed like some kind of… creep.”

The door burst open. Mom and Mr. Holt rushed in, still in robes, faces all panicked. Mom’s eyes went huge seeing us both there yelling. “What is going on? Are you two okay?”

Riven pointed at me like I was a criminal. “She snuck into my bed! This is insane. Tell her to stay in her own damn space.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, face burning hot. “I didn’t sneak! The pipes in mine are busted and I got turned around. It was an accident, okay? God, you act like I planned this.”

Mr. Holt rubbed his temples, sighing loud. “Kids, relax. You’re siblings now. What’s so wrong with sharing a bed for one night? It’s a big house, these things happen. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” Riven snapped, throwing the covers off and standing up in just his boxers. I looked away fast, but not before noticing way too much. “She can never be my sister. Her and her mom show up broke as hell, moving in like they own the place. She sucks at her job too, bad angles, mouthy as shit. They just wanna suck off us, Dad. Leech whatever they can. This whole marriage is a joke.”

The slap cracked loud across his face. Mr. Holt’s hand connected before any of us saw it coming. “You will respect your mother,” he said, voice low and pissed. “And your new sister. Apologize, Riven. Now.”

Riven’s cheek was red, jaw clenched so tight I thought it might break. He glared at all of us, breathing hard. “Fuck this.” Then he stormed out, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the frame.

Mom looked like she might cry. Mr. Holt put an arm around her and muttered something about giving him time. I just sat there on the bed, knees pulled up, feeling this gross mix of mad and guilty twisting in my gut. Part of me wanted to yell back at him for being such a dick. The other part the stupid part felt bad. Like maybe he wasn’t totally wrong about how sudden this all was, even if he said it like a total asshole.

I got up, avoided everyone’s eyes, and went back to my actual room. The bathroom still didn’t work. Great start to day two. I fixed my hair, threw on clothes for the rink, and tried to shake the whole thing off. But every time I closed my eyes I saw him in that bed, arm around me, warm and heavy. Annoying. Hot. Messed up.

Practice was brutal. Riven skated like he wanted to kill someone, barking orders twice as loud. When I raised my camera he shot me this look that said don’t you dare. I took the shots anyway, muttering under my breath the whole time. “Jerk.” But my hands shook a little. By the end of it I was done. Texted the girls as soon as I got a second alone.

Izzy: You guys free tonight? Shit went down. Need drinks and my people.

They blew up the chat instantly. We agreed on this little bar downtown, nothing fancy, just our spot. By evening I was there early, nursing a beer at a corner table, scrolling through the pics from today and deleting the ones where Riven looked too good. Couldn’t stop thinking about the morning fight, the way his dad slapped him, how I felt bad even though he’d been awful.

The girls piled in together, laughing loud already, and we did the big group hug right there by the table arms everywhere, squeezing tight like we hadn’t seen each other in months instead of days. God, I needed that. Their smells Vesper’s fancy perfume, Callie’s usual coconut shampoo, Larkin’s whatever cheap lotion she used felt like home.

“Spill,” Callie said as soon as we sat, waving the waiter over for another round. “Your text sounded insane. New stepbrother drama?”

I took a long sip, then launched into it. The words just tumbled out and I explained the whole situation to them.

Larkin’s eyes went wide, mouth open. “Wait, you slept in his bed? Actual sleeping? Holy shit, Izzy.”

Vesper leaned in, grinning but with that sharp look she gets when she’s processing. “And he freaked? What did he say?”

I waved my hands, talking over her a little because the anger was still fresh. “He lost it. Said I could never be his sister, that Mom and I are broke and just there to mooch off them. Called me bad at my job too, all while standing there in his boxers yelling.”

Callie snorted into her drink. “Damn. Rich boy tantrum. But you okay? He didn’t try anything, right?”

“No, nothing like that,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “Just yelling. But the way he looked at me after… I don’t know. Annoying as hell but my stomach keeps doing flips. He’s hot when he’s mad, which is stupid.”

We all started talking at once then, voices overlapping, laughing and gasping. Then they turned on me. “Your turn, Izzy,” Callie said, poking my shoulder. “You gonna tell us the full story about this stepbrother situation? Sounds like there’s more than yelling.”

I held up my hands, grinning despite the knot in my chest. “Sit back for story time, guys. Not yet, but soon. There’s way more coming. Just… give me a minute to figure out how not to screw everything up first.”

We hugged again after that, tighter this time, clinking glasses and promising to have each other’s backs no matter how crazy life got.

Even when one of us was tangled up with a rival hockey captain. Even when secrets and virginities and family fights piled up. We drank more, laughed louder, interrupted each other constantly, and for a couple hours I forgot about the slap, the yelling, and the way Riven’s arm had felt around me that morning.

But later, walking home alone, the guilt and the pull came back. I wondered if he was still pissed. If I’d see him at the house. If any of this was going to blow up worse. But I didn’t seem to expect what was about to happen next.