Chapter 1: MEETING MY NEW FAMILY
Chapter 1: Meeting My New Family
Sandy
I didn’t know it was possible to feel this much hate and still breathe.
It was a consuming heat in my chest, very different from the ache that had lived there since my Mom’s funeral.
“You’re really moving on, Dad?” The words burned down my throat, sharp enough to mimic the sound of the front door slamming shut.
His gaze met mine from across the kitchen. His eyes were tired but calm. Somehow, his composure made me even angrier.
“Sandy, I loved her. You know I did—”
“Did you?” I choked out. “You couldn’t even wait to mourn her.”
“Honey… look…” He stuttered, shaking his head.
“Two months!” I yelled, anger finally bursting through the surface. “Two fucking months since Mom died.”
“But loving her doesn’t mean I have to stop living,” he whispered.
My jaw dropped. The kitchen air felt suddenly suffocating, hot enough to make my eyes sting. “Oh, my God!”
“I forgot how goddamned easy it was to replace someone who can’t offer anything anymore.”
His brow furrowed deeply. “No, honey. That’s not what this is.” He stepped closer, reaching out, but I recoiled before his hands could touch me.
“You think I’m doing this for money?”
I stared at him with a bitter look, my jaw tightening. Yes. Of course I did. Sophia was rich. Her kids were hockey gods. All my dad saw when he looked at her was a woman who could give him the comfortable lifestyle Mom never could.
“I hope Mom forgives you,” I blurted out instead.
The loud clinking of champagne glasses snapped me back to the present.
It wasn’t our cramped kitchen anymore. I was sitting at a table flanked by empty seats at my father’s wedding reception.
I looked down at my hands, tightly gripping the fabric of a dress that felt too tight and cost more than my college tuition.
Everywhere I looked, Sophia’s world bled wealth. It was in the silk drapes, the flawless floral arrangements, and the casual laugh of my father as he kissed his new billionaire wife on the cheek across the room.
My fists clenched in my lap, my chest still burning from a fight that happened weeks ago but felt like seconds ago.
I needed to ease off.
Or I might burn the white cotton of the seat.
I moved to escape the air of the room when a guy slid smoothly into the empty seat beside mine. Instantly, I caught the scent of his cologne.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
I froze. Even sitting down, the guy to my left loomed over me, easily clearing six feet. He didn’t look like the other trust-fund guests; his bow tie was undone and hanging loose around his collar.
“Did I interrupt something?” he asked.
I paused, tilting my head. “Yeah. I’m trying to escape the rich people plague. Or at least I was.”
“Fair enough. I think the jazz is too loud.” He adjusted comfortably in the seat. “I’m Jackson.”
I let out a sharp breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, staring warily at his striking blue eyes and the smirk that said he knew exactly how good-looking he was.
Except I didn’t do the whole “I’m handsome” thing.
“These seats are taken,” I said, nodding to the empty chairs. “They’re for my new stepbrothers.”
“I’m not staying long, gorgeous.” Jackson leaned back, a lazy smirk spreading across his face. “So, the hockey brothers. Hear anything about them?”
I let out a sharp, cynical breath. “Nothing that might interest you. They’re just reckless, privileged brats.”
“Really?” His gaze locked onto mine. “Tell me more.”
My eyes raked over him for one final second before I let out a snort. “Apparently one transferred schools, he’s failing his classes, and he’s about to get kicked off the team.”
He ran a hand along his jaw, and a wicked, sharp glint hit his blue eyes. “Oh, shit. Your new stepbrother sounds like a total jerk.”
“Yeah,” I muttered.
The thought of my new stepbrothers ran a hot line through my chest. Athletes were the worst. Take my best friend at Icing High. I didn’t want anything to do with them after that—except write the articles. That part was career.
“Hey,” Jackson called.
He leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing mine. “What if he’s sitting right next to you, taking notes on how much you already hate him?”
An electric jolt traveled straight down my spine. My hands twitched on the table as he whispered in my ear.
Jesus.
He can’t be a Peterson.
“Don’t be tense,” he said quickly, his breath making me shudder. “I’m not a privileged brat.”
He pulled away. “But if you ever get tired of living with jerks, you could always come over to my place. I promise I’m much better company.”
My guts twisted with disgust. I pulled back sharply, elbowing him hard in the ribs. “You’re gross.”
“I’m not.”
This didn’t feel like the level of flirt I could take.
It was beginning to stir a familiar feeling.
Like another piece of this billionaire world was trying to consume me, to buy my attention just like Sophia bought my dad. It made me sick.
“I would rather get eaten by a beast,” I whispered, my voice shaking with an anger that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the gold ring on my father’s finger across the room.
Before he could answer, a hand draped in flawless pearls settled on his shoulder.
“Darling,” Sophia’s voice cut through the tension, smooth as silk and dripping with the effortless authority of a woman who owned the room. “I believe I asked you to help the caterers with the champagne refills, not pester my new stepdaughter.”
He slid out of his chair with a slow, mocking salute directed at me. “You won’t get eaten by a beast, gorgeous. Something more.”
Then he disappeared into the crowd.
That should be the last one for tonight, I told myself, letting out a heavy, exhausted sigh.
Now it was just me and Sophia in the sudden, returning quiet.
“I hope he wasn’t bothering you, sweetie,” Sophia said, turning her perfect smile onto me. She looked radiant, however completely oblivious to the rot burning in my chest.
“Your father is looking for you for the family photo. The boys are finally here.”
My stomach churned. The privileged gods.
“I’ll be right there,” I forced out, waiting until Sophia turned her back before I let out a ragged breath.
I stood up, smoothing down the tight, expensive dress that felt more like a straightjacket. I didn’t want to meet them. I didn’t want to be part of this curated, wealthy family portrait. But as I took a step toward the center of the ballroom, the crowd parted.
My breath caught in my throat.
Standing beside my father wasn’t just a stranger or a faceless athlete. He was a ghost from high school I’d spent years trying to bury.
My best friend.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a tailored suit that made him look completely out of my reach.
No other person but Grayson.
The boy who had taken my heart, shattered it into a million pieces, and left me to piece it back together.
He looked up, his dark eyes locking onto mine across the crowded, glittering room. And in that second, the heat in my chest didn’t just burn.
It went cold.
