The last time I saw my stepbrothers, I was seventeen, awkward, and had a mouth full of braces. Now I was nineteen, in college, and still awkward—but in a different, “I-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-my-body” kind of way.
And now… I was being babysat by them.
Ridiculous.
Mom’s heels clicked across the polished marble of the grand foyer as she rushed to hug me one last time before leaving. “Be good, sweetheart. The boys know the rules. No parties. No sneaking out. You’re still under my roof—even if I’m not in it.”
I gave her my best fake smile. “Yes, Mom.”
She kissed my cheek, her lipstick a bold red that matched her honeymoon mood. Then she was gone—off to Europe with her new husband, leaving me in the care of three men who were technically my stepbrothers, but in no way felt like family.
