want to help. All I’ve ever wanted was to help them.
“Okay,” he says quietly, and my heart skips a beat. “I’ll stay here for a while.”
I can’t help it—I rush from my side of the couch and envelop him in a bear hug. “Thank you,” I say sincerely, and for once in the past few weeks, I’m genuinely happy. We’re what’s left of this broken family, and we’ll carry on the legacy. With or without Kade.
2 years ago
It’s my nineteenth birthday. There’s cake. There’s a party. There are presents.
Yet I’m sitting on the floor in my closet, bawling my eyes out.
I know they’re looking for me, but I’m too upset to let anyone know I’m hiding from my own friends. And it’s all because of Kade, just like it always freaking is. This time, my tears are because he didn’t show up. He didn’t even have enough sense to come to his own stepsister’s party, and once again, he’s pushing me away right along with the rest of the family.
“June?” I hear someone call out, and I whimper, not sure whether I want them to find me or leave me alone in my misery. I know it’s stupid I’m this upset over one person, especially when everyone else has been trying so hard to make this day special for me. But still, as my tears fall, I can’t help but feel sorry for myself—all the while knowing my anger should be directed at my stepbrother.
“June?” someone repeats, and the door to the closet creaks as I look up, panicked. And there is the face I most want to see—steel-gray eyes, dark hair, muscular build. Those lips, saying my name like it’s the most important thing in the world. But there are two people with that face, two people with that voice. And right now, I don’t want Parker. I want Kade. Only Kade.
“Oh, little sis.” Parker sighs, making his way to where I’m slumped on the floor. He sits down next to me and cradles me in his arms as I sob pathetically. “You have to stop getting so upset over the smallest things,” he says softly, stroking my hair.
“I know,” I whimper. “But it’s… it’s my birthday.”
We were always together on our birthday. Had birthday cake, celebrated. This is the first year Kade missed it, and even though we’ve been growing distant for years, it still hurts like hell.
“It’s okay,” Parker comforts me. I look up at him gratefully, thankful for having him at least. He’s always there to make me feel better, always making up for his brother’s absence. But this time, the Kade-shaped hole in my heart just won’t go away.
“Here,” Parker says with a mysterious smile. He produces a bottle of vodka from God knows where, and I stare at him with surprise.
“I’m nineteen, remember?” I ask him, raising my eyebrows.
“Whatever,” Parker says. “Better you have your first drink with me than someone else. I’ll take care of you. You know that, right, little sis?”
I nod because I trust him—always. He opens the bottle, and we proceed to get mind-blowingly drunk right there on the floor of my closet. I forget all about Kade—or at least pretend to—and have a blast pretending to be sober when we return to the party, greeting guests and ignoring my mother’s and stepfather’s worried glances. Parker’s next to me the whole time. Like he always is. I have a great birthday.
When it starts getting late, we hear a car honking in the driveway, and moments later, the front door flies open and in comes the guest of honor—Kade himself. My heart hitches in my chest and pummels to the ground when I see a brunette draped over his arm. It’s not the one from the garage all those years ago. It’s a new-and-improved model, complete with fake tits that make me insanely jealous and angry at the same time.
“Where’s the birthday girl?” Kade asks with a wide smile, and I step forward as everyone looks on happily, some people even clapping, glad he showed up. “There you are, Junebug.”
It’s only when he comes closer that I smell his breath—and it reeks of booze, probably just like mine. But at least I brushed my teeth to hide it. Kade doesn't give a shit.
He stares at me, hard. Doesn’t offer a birthday kiss, not even a friendly hug. Instead, he thrusts a box in my hands, and I inspect it while he moves away. It’s all torn, and the edges are coming