All Chapters of Falling For My Stepbrother On Ice: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Dona’s POVPost-hangout with August found me hiding in my room and reminiscing on what I'd witnessed that day, when I heard a knock on my door.“Dona?” Piper’s voice carried through the wood, followed by the sound of it creaking open before I even had the chance to answer. That was Piper for you: permission was optional.She walked in with her bag slung across her shoulder, curls bouncing as she shut the door behind her. But her face wasn’t its usual chipper self. No, she was frowning, eyebrows pulled tight like she’d just walked in on something criminal.“Okay,” she started with her hands on her hips. “Why is the hockey captain sitting in your living room?”I blinked at her from my bed. Oh. Right, that.I sat up, rubbing the side of my head. The last two days had been a hurricane—finding out I had a stepdad-to-be, finding out I had a stepbrother-to-be, following August to the rink, seeing his dad with some shady Chicago guy. I hadn’t had a second to update Piper on… well, everything.

Dona's POV I slammed the door to my mother’s room behind me and stomped down the hallway. My face burned with disgust. Peter in just a towel? Ugh. I could still see it in my head, and the memory made my stomach twist like I’d just swallowed bad milk. Who walks out like that in someone else’s house? In front of their girlfriend’s daughter? He didn’t even care. It was like I was invisible! I shut my own door with a bang and leaned against it, sucking in a sharp breath. My chest rose and fell quickly, and for a second I thought about throwing something just to get the anger out of me. But I didn’t. I just pressed my palms into my eyes until I saw sparks. This house didn’t even feel like mine anymore. It felt like his. Peter’s voice carried through the walls sometimes; he was too loud and too sure of himself. His cologne lingered in the hallway. His things were in the kitchen, the living room, my mom’s bedroom, even the garage. He was everywhere, all the time and I hated it. I needed

Dona's POVMonday mornings for me were supposed to feel calm, but nothing about today felt calm. My fingers drummed against the passenger window as August drove, his music turned down low for once, thank the heavens.I stared out at the blur of palm trees and strip malls, thinking about the conversation I’d been holding off for weeks. I couldn’t keep living under the same roof, pretending everything was fine while two strangers invaded our space.I had money now. Not much compared to the adults who walked around with mortgages and six-figure jobs, but it was enough. Between summer shifts at the bookstore, tutoring freshmen and those couple months coaching basketball drills for underclassmen, I’d managed to stack away more than I spent. Over five grand sat in my account, waiting. That was my ticket to an apartment closer to campus. Maybe tonight I’d finally tell Mom. Maybe.The car slowed at a red light, and I caught my reflection in the window. I didn’t look like someone about to mak

Dona's POV “I told you, I don’t have it!” My mom was yelling. “Please, give me more time. I swear I’ll figure something out.” I stopped at the edge of the hall. She was in her purple nurse's scrubs, getting ready to head to the nursing home where she worked. Her back was to me. “I can’t—” Her voice started to tremble. “It’s rent for the house, I know, I know, but I don’t have it right now.” Rent? My chest lurched. Rent wasn’t even supposed to be her worry. Peter was the one flashing money around like he had no bottom. Why was she the one panicking? There was silence, then her voice turned desperate. “Please, just a little more time. I promise I’ll get it.” Whoever was on the other end must’ve hung up, because the room went quiet. My mom lowered the phone, and her shoulders sagged like the life had drained out of her. “Mom?” My voice slipped out before I could stop it. She spun around so fast I thought she’d trip. Her eyes were glossy and rimmed red, and for a flash of a second

Dona’s POV I couldn’t close my eyes that night. Every time I tried, I saw flashes of the kitchen. I saw shards of ceramic, broken glass, the sound of bullets whistling through the air. My ears were still ringing faintly, my brain was still thinking in fight-or-flight mode like it hadn’t gotten the memo that things were over. The house was much too quiet for my liking. Mom wasn’t home, Peter wasn’t home, and even though August was just downstairs, the silence made me want to crawl out of my skin. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, hugging a pillow to my chest, when I heard a knock on my door. The door creaked open, and August peeked inside. His white compression shirt was dark with wetness under the armpits. “The kitchen is clean,” he said quietly. “As much as it can be.” "Already?” "Yeah. I didn’t feel like sitting around." He peered at me. "Are you doing okay?” I pressed my lips together, then shook my head. “Not really.” He stepped in, closing the door behind him. For a se