A Midsummer's Nightmare(61)

And I guess, technically, nothing had.

Not for him, anyway.

But for me, everything about our relationship had changed. I’d been kind of confused before—lusting after your soon-to-be stepbrother is really awkward and all—but now… now it was so much worse. Because ever since he’d left my bedroom Friday night, I’d been thinking about what he had said. The things he’d implied.

He wanted me.

And I was pretty sure I wanted him, too.

Believe me, falling for your future stepbrother is way, way more confusing than simply wanting to jump his bones.

I didn’t know if I should tell him how I felt, though. Tell him that I’d grown to want a relationship, a commitment, and that I wanted it with him. Part of me knew I had to. Because ignoring my feelings and letting him slip through my fingers could only lead me to a lot of regret. To be honest, I’d never felt this way about a guy before. I’d be an idiot to let him get away.

On the other hand, I was scared. Really scared.

Not just of this whole relationship idea—though that was a new concept for me—but of what it might do to my family.

My family. The Caulfields had become my family. Even if Mom and Dad were clueless and Trace had moved on, I still had the Caulfields. And I didn’t want to mess that up.

I hadn’t made up my mind yet. And, in the meantime, just making eye contact with Nathan made me jittery. Made the confusion roll over in my stomach and settle into my belly like a pound of lead. I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there. I couldn’t live like this much longer.

I needed to decide on something soon.

“Yeah, the game was good,” I heard him tell Dad, but I could have sworn I felt his eyes pressing into the back of my head. “Two extra innings. Pretty intense.”

“Oh, here they come,” Sylvia gasped as the gym doors swung open. Her hand immediately grabbed hold of mine, squeezing it like I was her own personal stress ball.

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, loosening her grip a little. “I’m just so…”

“Me, too.” I squeezed back and smiled at her. “It’s fine.”

One by one, the auditioning girls exited the gymnasium, all in varying states of excitement or dejection. A few even came into the hallway with full-blown tears streaking their cheeks, and they ran instantly into the arms of their waiting parents. Christ, I hoped Bailey wouldn’t be like that. I couldn’t take crying. Especially if it was from her. I’d be tempted to go in and kick the preppy blond judges’ asses.

“Here she is,” Dad said, stepping up beside me as Bailey came out of the gym, an unreadable expression on her face. “How’d it go, Bailey-Boop?”

Bailey didn’t say anything. She looked at each of us for a moment, not quite a smile but not quite a frown on her face.

Finally, Bailey moved. She walked straight toward me and, without warning, wrapped her arms around my torso in one of the tightest hugs I’d ever experienced. She almost squeezed the breath out of me. She was pretty strong for such a skinny kid.

“Um… Bailey?” I said, patting her uncertainly on the back. I was afraid she was going to start crying into my cotton T-shirt. “What…?”

“Thank you,” she said. After a second, she let go, her face glowing with pride. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I MADE IT!” She did a little jump in the air and touched her toes—probably something she’d used in her tryout—and let out a whoop so loud I thought I heard the ceiling tiles rattle. “I made it! I made it! They picked me!”

“We heard you the first time,” Nathan said.

“But once is so not good enough,” she countered. She turned to face me again, her eyes shining with excitement. “Thank you, Whitley. I couldn’t have done it without you. You really helped me with my routine these past couple weeks.”

“Bailey, I just sat there and watched you,” I reminded her, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “You did all the work, kid.”

“Congratulations, baby!” Sylvia exclaimed, throwing her arms around Bailey.

“I’m so proud of you, Boop,” Dad said, patting the top of her head. “Great job.”

I’m not jealous, I told myself. I’m happy. Happy for Bailey. Screw Dad. This is about her, not him.

Bailey looked embarrassed, her cheeks turning bright pink.

“Oh, what the hell!” Nathan said, tossing a wink at me, Harrison-style. “Group hug in Bailey’s honor.”

“You’re not serious,” I muttered.

“Oh, no, Nathan. Please—” Bailey tried, but it was too late.

Nathan collapsed onto her, his arms encircling his sister and mother. Dad followed suit within seconds, and it was my father’s hand that grabbed my arm, pulling me into this hideous display of affection. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, squishing me into the group.

“God, you guys, stop it!” she shrieked beneath us. “This is so embarrassing. People can see.”

I would have agreed with her. Normally, at least. I would have run from awkward, weird, sentimental things like this. Screaming, most likely. But suddenly, this felt less disgusting and more… real. Solid. Right.

With Dad on one side of me, his arm around my shoulder, and Sylvia and Nathan and Bailey, all of us squished together, all of us connected, it felt okay. Good, even.