The drive home was heavy with a silence that was louder than any words. The traumatic events of the parking lot played on a loop in my head, but my focus was on Mom. She sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, her body still trembling slightly. I could feel her fear, and it fueled a cold, hard rage deep inside me.
As I pulled into our driveway, she turned to look at me. Her eyes were filled with a silent plea, a reminder of the promise I had made. Act like nothing happened.
I gave her a firm, reassuring nod. We would be strong. For the others.
We walked into the house, and the warm, cheerful light of the living room felt like it belonged to another world. Isabel and Aunt Christine were on the couch, laughing at something on TV. The moment they saw us, Isabel jumped up.
"Mom! Where were you guys?" she exclaimed, running over and throwing her arms around Mom in a hug. "I'm starving!"
Mom flinched for a split second before forcing a bright, wobbly smile. She was still recovering, still in a daze. "Oh, dear, I'm so sorry. We got stuck in some terrible traffic on the way home. Don't worry, I'll get dinner started right away."
She started to head towards the kitchen, but I quickly stepped in front of her. I could see the exhaustion etched on her face, the dark circles forming under her eyes.
"Mom, I think you need to rest," I said, my tone gentle but firm. "I'll prepare the dinner. Don't you have a headache?"
Isabel's playful expression immediately shifted to one of concern. "Are you feeling unwell, Mom? Should we call a doctor?"
Aunt Chris was off the couch now, her lilac eyes filled with worry. "Sis, if you're not feeling okay, just go rest. We can prepare dinner."
"Everyone, please, just wait for a while," I announced, taking control of the situation. "I'll handle it."
I turned and walked towards the kitchen. A few seconds later, I heard footsteps behind me. It was Isabel.
"I'll help," she said, leaning against the counter.
"There's no need," I replied, pulling out a cutting board. "I've got it."
But she insisted, grabbing an apron from a hook on the wall. We started to prepare the meal in a comfortable silence, the only sounds the rhythmic chop of vegetables and the sizzle of oil in a pan. She was standing close, her shoulder occasionally brushing against mine.
"I'm so excited about the date tomorrow," she said softly, her voice filled with a happy, nervous energy.
With everything that had just happened, the date had been completely wiped from my mind. But I couldn't let her know that. Mom was safe now, and she needed rest. There was no need to stress everyone else out. Life had to go on.
"Me too," I replied, forcing a smile. "I'm really excited."
Her face lit up. "Adam, you should get there a little earlier than me tomorrow, okay? So we can act like a proper couple, with you waiting for me."
"Okay, don't worry," I said, my smile feeling a little more genuine this time. "I'll be there."
We continued our light, easy banter about the date as we cooked, and after a while, dinner was ready. We all ate together, the conversation cheerful, though I could see Mom was just pushing her food around her plate. As soon as the meal was over, everyone headed off to their rooms to sleep.
Before I went to my own room, I quietly pushed open Mom's door to check on her. I found her already in bed, her breathing deep and even. She was in a deep sleep. I walked over and gently pulled the blanket up to her chin.
"Good night, Mom," I whispered, my voice so low it was barely a breath. "I will never let anything happen to our family."
I closed the door softly and headed to my room. The stress of the day hit me like a physical blow. I didn't even have the energy to change. I just collapsed onto my bed and was pulled into a deep, dreamless slumber.
(Joyce's Perspective)
I'm so scared.
I wasn't really asleep. I had just pretended, not wanting to talk anymore. But my mind was a chaotic storm. I was scared of those thugs, of what could have happened. But there was another fear, a new and confusing one. I was a little scared of Adam.
The look on his face in that parking lot… it was a side of him I had never seen before. It was primal, violent, and utterly terrifying. I knew he did it all to protect me, but the sheer brutality of it shook me to my core. This wasn't the sweet, gentle boy I knew. This was someone different.
Why am I scared of him?
The past few days have been an emotional rollercoaster. First, I found myself getting attracted to him. Then came the weird, taboo thoughts that I couldn't control. And now, this fear. But underneath the fear, there was something else. When he came charging to my rescue, when he held me in his arms afterward, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. I loved his embrace. It felt like more than just a son hugging his mother. It was mature. It was different. In his arms, my world shrank until it was just the two of us, and I felt a safety I had never felt before.
I wasn't just physically attracted to him anymore. Today, in that dark parking lot, I was mentally attracted to him too. I am totally clueless about what these feelings are. I know it's wrong to think about my stepson like this. I'm scared of his violent side, but I'm also drawn to that aggressive, primal rage he unleashed for me. For a moment, I felt like I was his woman.
Oh, God. I don't know anything. It's so frustrating.
(End of Joyce's perspective)
I woke up in the middle of the night, my throat dry. I quietly slipped out of bed and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As I was heading back, a sliver of moonlight from the living room's French doors caught my eye.
I saw a figure sitting by the edge of our swimming pool, their feet dangling in the shimmering water. It was Aunt Christine.
I walked over and sat down beside her on the cool concrete. "What are you doing out here?" I asked softly.
She looked over, a little startled. "Oh, Adam. I couldn't sleep," she replied, her voice a quiet murmur. "So I'm just out here, staring at the night sky." She held up a half-empty wine glass. "Want some?"
"No, thanks," I said. "Are you drinking alone because you're still feeling sad about your modeling career?"
She sighed, taking a slow sip of her wine. "Yeah, that's one of the reasons. But there are other things, too." She turned to me, her lilac eyes searching my face in the dim light. "What do you think about me, Adam?"
"You already know, Aunt," I said, my voice sincere. "You've been my inspiration since I was a kid. You're everything I wanted to be. You're brave, independent, and spectacular. You're my shining star. The apple of my eye."
A faint blush colored her cheeks, visible even in the moonlight. "Enough of your sugar-coated words," she said, though she was smiling.
"Aunt, I am one hundred percent honest," I insisted. "Those are my honest thoughts."
She was quiet for a few seconds, swirling the wine in her glass. Then, she looked at me, her gaze direct and serious. "Hey, Adam… if we weren't related, would you like to date me?"
The question caught me completely off guard. Before I could even process it, she pressed on. "Come on, tell me. I'm serious."
My heart started pounding. My new [Casanova] skill seemed to whisper in my ear, giving me the courage to say what I was really feeling.
"You know what, Aunt?" I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm still willing to date you. Even if we are related."
She let out a small, drunken giggle. "You know that's wrong, right?"
"Yeah, I know it's wrong," I admitted. "But I would be lying if I said I don't have feelings for you."
Suddenly, she reached over and gently pulled my head down onto her lap. "Enough with this chit-chat," she murmured, her voice soft and sleepy. "It's already too late. You should sleep. Just for tonight, your favorite aunt will give you a lap pillow. We can just enjoy the view of the starry sky."
I was lying on her lap, the scent of her perfume and the wine filling my senses. I tried to look up at the stars, but my vision was completely blocked by her ample bosom.
This is still a great view, though, I thought with a smirk. A few moments later, surrounded by warmth and a strange sense of peace, I dozed off.
(Christine's Perspective)
Adam… Adam… look at him. He's asleep.
You are such a bad child, always making your aunt's heart skip a beat, always surfacing these old feelings that I had buried so deep inside. You know, I still remember when you were just a little boy. You would always tell me, "Aunt Chris, I love you! I'm going to marry you when I grow up!" You would always wrap your little arms around me and give me a hug whenever I came home feeling dejected after a bad audition.
Last night, when you held me and told me I was your inspiration, I felt that same warmth, that same comfort. You're such a sweet boy. I love you so much, baby. But it looks like in this life, us being together just isn't possible.
I know you can't hear me right now. But when you said you were still willing to date me… it made my day. It made my everything. But still, it's impossible.
I don't know what happened to me in that moment. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the moonlight, or maybe it was just years of repressed feelings finally breaking free. I leaned down, my heart pounding, and gently locked my lips with his.
The world stopped. Time stood still. In the vast, empty universe, it felt like only Adam and I existed. It was a sweet, lovely, and beautiful kiss. It was perfect.
After a moment, I pulled back, my lips tingling. I gently brushed the hair from his forehead.
"Adam," I whispered to his sleeping form, a tear rolling down my cheek. "You should be happy. That was your favorite aunt's first kiss."
After that, I must have dozed off too, right there by the pool.
(End of Christine's perspective)
I woke up with a start, the first rays of dawn painting the sky. Aunt Christine was asleep, her head resting on my chest. Her confession, her kiss… it was all real.
My mind was in chaos. I never knew she felt that way. That kiss… it was soul-soothing. It was filled with her true emotions. I really wanted to tell her that I loved her too, but if I did, she would be embarrassed for the rest of her life. She might even ignore me. I couldn't let that happen.
I needed to think of something. But first, I had to get her to her room.
Gently, I slipped out from under her and carefully lifted her into my arms. She was surprisingly light. I carried her inside and tucked her into her bed, pulling the covers over her.
I stood there for a moment, just looking at her peaceful face. I needed to sleep. Tomorrow was my date with Isabel, an important day. But I didn't know if I'd be able to sleep at all. After a heartfelt confession like that, my own sleep had completely vanished. But I knew I still had to try.