Her Stepbrother

Chelsea

I flop onto my bed and stare at the ceiling like it personally owed me an explanation.

“Are you serious, Mom?” I push up onto my elbows and look at her. “You married him? Without telling me?”

My mom remains in my bedroom with that look — arms crossed, chin lifted, already done with my shit before I even get warmed up. This woman already had her mind made up before she even walked in here.

This is just the part where she acts as if she cares about how I feel regarding the entire situation.

“Virgil and I have been together five years, Chelsea.” Mom tilts her head like the math alone should settle it. “He’s a good man. So I would really love for you to tell me what, exactly, your problem is.”

I held her stare. “His son, Mom.”

Two words.

She knew exactly what I meant.

She always knew.

That’s what made it worse because she fucking knew, and she married Virgil anyway.

Kevin.

I felt my jaw tighten just thinking his name.

Kevin was like a mosquito you couldn’t kill. You can swat at him all day, and he would keep circling back, buzzing right next to your ear, patient as hell, waiting for the second your guard drops. And only then, he sneaks in and bites you. I’d been swatting at Kevin for years, and the jerk is still biting.

Virgil? Fine. Virgil was decent — quiet, loyal, and honestly, he’s the kind of man who fixed things without being asked and didn’t make everything about himself. I have zero issues with Virgil.

But Kevin? Kevin was built completely different from his father. Like whatever gene made Virgil tolerable took one look at Kevin and said, yeah not today.

“Kevin is your stepbrother now.” Mom pushes off the doorframe and turns down the hall like the conversation was already over. “Find a way to get along with him. Fast.” She states firmly.

I was off my bed and two steps behind her before she made it to the doorway. “I’m not the problem.” I match her pace. “Kevin is the problem, Mom. He has made my life miserable since the day you and Virgil started dating.” I paused, mouth pulling to the side. “Almost the whole time, anyway.”

That last part is true. Kevin hasn’t always been insufferable. I’ll admit, younger Kevin — I could actually deal with him. We were almost close to friends once, in that weird, accidental way. Then, somewhere between then and now, his entire attitude shifted.

We got older. He became an asshole. And he has that kind of smirk that made me want to put my fist through a wall.

I don’t know what changed between us. I just know I liked the old version of Kevin better.

Randomly, Mom reaches into my closet and pulls out my suitcase.

My stomach dropped straight to the floor.

“What are you doing?” I step forward, eyes locked on her hands.

She sets it flat on the bed and unzips my suitcase without even looking at me — calm, calculated, like she has rehearsed this part. “Pack your belongings. We’re moving.”

I’m frozen in place, standing here staring at that suitcase like it had personally betrayed me.

My mother married Virgil without any warning, and I can hardly believe it. Now, she’s making me pack my things and sending me to the one person on this earth who knows exactly how to get under my skin and relishes every moment of it.

“I’m not living with Kevin.” I keep my voice flat and even, arms crossed over my chest. I’m past the point of begging. Somewhere in the cold, quiet territory of I mean it.

Mom spins around. Whatever patience she had walked in my bedroom with was officially gone. “Then get yourself a job, pay your own bills, and stay right here. Because I am not throwing away my happiness because you decide to be a spoiled brat.”

I grab the suitcase and sling it off the bed. It slaps the floor with a hollow thud that felt good for exactly half a second.

“You both know Kevin and I don’t get along.” I spread my hands out. “You and Virgil know that. How could you just — how could you do this to me, Mom?”

Something moved behind her eyes — not quite guilt, but close enough to touch it. She pushes right through it. “You find a job and keep this house yourself, or you figure out how to be civil with your stepbrother.” She levels her gaze with mine. “You’re eighteen years old, Chelsea. Both of you are. You’re too old for this.”

She wasn’t wrong.

And, I hated her for it.

I also couldn’t work — not right now. I have two months left before graduation, and dropping out wasn’t something I was willing to do. Mom knew that.

“I wish Dad were still here.” The words fell out before I could snatch them back.

Mom went still.

Then she let out a short laugh — not a warm one. The kind that carries six years of exhaustion packed down into a single sound. “Stop wishing for a man who hasn’t shown up for you since you were twelve.” She quirks an eyebrow, voice going dry. “He’s with Lori. He’s raising their daughter. Or did you forget?”

I hadn’t forgotten.

I never forgot.

Dad blamed the alcohol for cheating on Mom, saying it was just one night, a stupid mistake. He swore it would never happen again. But then Lori’s stomach began to show, and there was no way to explain that a pregnancy was just one foolish mistake.

Mom found the texts. Didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. Just showed him the door and meant it. He apologized until he ran out of words, but my mother didn’t move an inch. I understood that — some things you don’t come back from. My mother had decided that was one of them.

My dad visited for a while. Then Virgil came into the picture, and apparently, my father decided that was enough of a reason to be jealous, which, given that he was already living with Lori, made zero sense. But logic was never his strong suit. One day, he just stopped coming. No call. No explanation. Just Gone.

I stand in the middle of my bedroom, throat tight, and say the cruelest thing I could pull together, because she had drawn blood first, and I wanted her to hurt the same way I am.

“If you didn’t start dating Virgil, Dad would still come around.” I lifted my chin. “You put Virgil and his son in front of me, and none of this is fair to me.”

Mom holds her phone out between us, arm straight, hand steady. “Call him. Go ahead and call your father, Chelsea. Because I am done absorbing your anger for something he did.”

I hold her gaze. “You moved on a year after you split. I remember more than you think I do.”

The slap came fast.

Not hard enough to send me sideways — but hard enough. My cheek stung sharply, and my face is hot. My breath catches in my throat. I pressed my fingers to my face and stood completely still while the room went quiet around us.

Mom had never put her hands on me. Not once. Not when I talked back as a kid. Not when I pushed every boundary she had. Not ever.

I remain speechless and watch as her face falls apart.

I watch as the anger drains from her all at once, and what was left underneath it looked a lot like devastation. Her eyes went glassy before she even moved.

“Chelsea.” My name cracks in her mouth. She crosses the room and pulls me into her before I decide whether I want her to hug me.

Her arms lock around me, tight. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t want any of this to go like it is.”

I don’t pull away. I hated that I didn’t, but I didn’t.

“You are my reason for living.” Mom’s voice is muffled, pressed close. “You always have been. But Virgil makes me happy — real. And I’m not asking you to love him or Kevin. I’m just asking you to meet me halfway.”

I exhale against my mother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for being a brat.” A pause. “But I genuinely cannot stand Kevin.”

Mom pulls back just enough to look at me, and something softens in her face. “Boys are supposed to drive you crazy, Chelsea. That’s basically their entire job description.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “If he isn’t driving you crazy, he isn’t doing it right.”

I narrow my eyes. “I wish Virgil drove you crazy.”

She reached back, snatched my hairpiece off my dresser without even looking, and flung it at my head. “Don’t push it.”

I ducked and almost smiled.

Virgil’s house wasn’t a house. It was a mansion. I had been inside twice, and both times I felt like I was walking through a hotel lobby that someone had accidentally put furniture in.

There are multiple floors and more square footage than necessary. If I could have a bedroom on a completely separate floor from Kevin’s, avoiding him would be much easier.

The annoying part is that Kevin and I weren’t strangers. We went to the same school, ran in the same circles, and showed up at the same parties. We had known each other long before our parents ever looked at each other twice.

Recently, Kevin had started to call me “sister.” He casually slips it into our conversations, as if it means nothing. But I can tell he’s watching me, waiting for the twitch in my eye, my anger to flare up, and my annoyance to grow each time he says it.

He was always watching for the twitch.

Every girl at school wants Kevin — and Kevin knows it like he knows his own reflection. There was always some girl draped on his arm at a party, some girl pressing into him like he was the only boy toy in the room. He soaks all the attention up and lets them come and go.

And then the second, some boy gets within arm’s reach of me, he’s my Shadow. Right there behind me. With his hands in his pockets, jaw set, playing the protective stepbrother role like he hasn’t spent the last several months finding new and creative ways to make my life challenging.

I didn’t understand him.

I don’t even want to try to understand Kevin.

What I knew was this — I loved my mother. For her, I will move into that house. And for her, I will try.

I’m not promising peace.

I’m not promising sunshine or cooperation or anything that resembles a Hallmark movie. But for her, I will definitely try.

The second my high school diploma is in my hand, I am gone. My calendar was already bleeding red Xs. I am counting every single day I have left until graduation.

Two spoiled kids, raised as only children and accustomed to getting whatever they wanted without ever having to share, are unexpectedly thrown together in the same house. Without warning, and with no guide on how to navigate this situation, it’s a shit show waiting to happen.

Our parents had no idea what they had just unleashed.