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EVAN

I want her. So damn much and with every fiber of my being.

That shouldn’t be the first thought to come to mind whenever I see her, but lust clouds whatever sense is left in me.

And yet, I stand here, behind this invisible line I can never cross. Loving her from a distance feels like drowning in silence. I ache to speak, to let her know what I feel, but knowing the words would shatter everything. So I keep it all locked inside, watching, waiting ... but with the full understanding that some dreams are meant to stay just that—dreams. Nothing more.

After all, I fell in love with Elena, my stepdaughter, way before I met her. For the fifteen months I was married to her mother, Gina always talked about Elena. What she was like as a kid, as a teen, as a young adult. What she liked and hated. What she did when she thought Gina wasn’t looking.

Gina told me everything about her, and it felt like I already knew who she was. Maybe not all, but I got a good sense of what Elena was as a person, and it was hard not to fall for someone like that, even if she made it clear she didn’t approve of me, what with how she acted around me at her mother’s funeral a year ago.

“Hi, Evan. It’s been a while. I know I was rude when we met, but I think we just started off on the wrong foot. How about I introduce myself again, and we can wipe the slate clean?” Elena clears her throat. “Hi. I’m Elena, nice to meet you.”

I stare at her like an idiot, even though my brain screams at me that the polite and decent way to respond is by accepting the handshake. Unfortunately, there’s nothing polite or decent about the direction of my thoughts.

My whole world tilts on its axis. It’s like getting unmoored and trying to navigate the waters in the middle of the fucking Pacific Ocean.

I have never felt so lost or unsure of the ground I stand on.

Mustering whatever strength I can find, I wrap my hand around hers, and it takes everything in me to suppress the shudder threatening to overcome me. Every limb, every nerve ending, every inch of my body comes alive for the first time.

I can feel the pounding in my temples, the rush of warmth down south, the front of my pants getting increasingly tighter, more uncomfortable, and more obvious to anyone daring to look.

Guilt and desire dance around each other as raw need sweeps over my head.

I shouldn’t feel something this intense, especially to my stepdaughter. Sure, she’s a grown woman, and her mother and I never really consummated our marriage because it was anything but romantic.

Still…

It’s not a good look.

“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? You look angry.” Elena tugs her hand back, her eyes narrowing, blue with threads of golden caramel radiating from the pupils. She runs her fingers through her strawberry blonde hair and looks around the house—the place where she grew up and where I now live. It must be weird for her.

“No. Sorry. I…” I’ve lost the ability to speak and think. My thoughts are all over the place, and I can’t seem to get a grip on myself and these rioting emotions inside me.

“I get it. It’s not the best of days. This day will always remind you of what you’ve lost.” She shoves both hands in her back pockets, unable to meet my eyes, a slight frown creasing her forehead. It’s the most she’s ever said to me. A year ago, she only ever gave me a nod and a grunt.

“You lost her, too.”

“I’ll help you pack her things, okay? I know I told you I’d come back and get around to it, but I’ve been busy.” Elena bites her bottom lip, and it takes everything in me not to reach out and graze it with my thumb. “I’ll leave at the end of the week and be out of your hair, I promise.”

Thinking of her leaving makes my stomach drop. I don’t want her to go. No, fuck it. I don’t even want her out of my sight. I want her with me. I want to know her inside and out. I want to … bury myself deep within her walls.

Shit.

I open my mouth to tell her she can relax, and I’ll take care of Gina’s things, but Elena spins on her heels, walking with her suitcase to her old bedroom.

I’m coming apart at the seams. I just know it. The last time I saw her, I had everything under control because there were things I needed to attend to. Plus, she stayed at a hotel and kept her distance from me.

This time, it’s different. Knowing she’s sleeping a few doors from mine makes it harder to keep my desires under control. I have wanted this woman for as long as I can remember. Now she’ll be staying under the same roof as me for a week. A week. I can barely rein in my feelings, and I’ve only been in her presence for less than an hour.

Imagine what can happen in seven fucking days.

I am so sorry, Gina. I didn’t want this. I never thought I would be unable to control myself around her. I underestimated her presence and how much magnetic draw she’d have on me.

Fuck me. Where the hell will I go from here?

* * *

The crackle of the fireplace fills the massive living room, the orange and gold embers casting flickering shadows on the vintage wallpaper. It’s beautiful, cozy, and relaxing, and watching it never gets old. It’s my favorite place in this house, and I often spend hours just staring at it, quieting the chaos in my head.

I cradle the steaming mug of tea between my hands, welcoming the warmth bleeding into my fingers, my three-year-old tabby—a stray I picked up at the hospital and whom I named Clawdia—sprawled by my feet. She likes the fireplace too. And despite the fact that cats are mostly known for being cold, unsympathetic creatures, Clawdia seems to pick up on my moods. She always stays with me when my emotions are either down or chaotic.

Everything that happened today was a blur, except the moment with Elena.

I go over the short conversation, the skin contact, and I close my eyes, letting the feelings wash over me. I knew I was in love with her before today—hell, before we even met a year ago—but I didn’t realize how strong the emotion was until I almost pulled her to me. The need was overwhelming. I thought, for sure, I would move on and get over her, but it only got stronger. It’s as if no time has passed since the last time I saw her. It could’ve been yesterday for all I know.

People like to say, “Out of sight, out of mind.” Lies, lies, big, fat lies.

I open my eyes and exhale deeply, the thin ribbons of steam curling before me. The house is fairly quiet, and I assume Elena is already asleep upstairs. The only thing I can hear is the occasional pop of the log splitting in the hearth.

“Jesus,” I mumble, mentally punching myself for how I behaved today. Odd. I’m forty-two years old. Too old for these feelings. Too old for acting like a lovesick schoolboy meeting his longtime crush for the first time.

A faint shift in the air prickles the back of my neck, and I feel her before I even see her. I cast a look over my shoulder and watch as she steps closer and sits on the recliner beside me. I note, with amusement, that there’s no hesitation.

That’s a relief. The last thing I want is for her to feel unsafe around me.

“Are you up for company or do you prefer to be alone?” she asks as she tucks her legs under her and leans back, her eyes on the fireplace.

“I’d prefer you here.” Not the most appropriate words, but I can’t do anything about it now. My mouth works faster than my brain, I guess. “You want tea?”

Elena scrunches her face. “No, thanks. I hate tea.”

I chuckle without thinking. “I know. You prefer a double-shot espresso.”

She swings her head to me, one eyebrow raised. “How do you know that?”

“Your mom. She always told me things about you.”

Elena buries her face in her hands and groans. “God, I hope she didn’t say anything embarrassing.”

I don’t reply, just sip my tea, thoroughly enjoying this weird turn of events. She turns to me, peeking through her fingers. “Please tell me she didn’t say anything embarrassing.”

I nod, a smile tugging on my mouth.

“Evan…”

I jolt at the sound of my name on her lips, almost dropping my cup to the floor. Yes, she has that kind of effect on me. A thousand people can call my name, and I can pick out her voice in three seconds flat.

“Evan, what did she tell you?”

“Nothing.”

Elena smirks. “You’re an awful liar.”

My gaze briefly drops to my cup, trying but failing to resist the urge to smile. “Nothing much. She told me when you wanted to come as a prune at a school event.”

“No!” Her face is a mask of horror, and I burst out laughing. “But that’s it, right? She didn’t say anything else? Right? Please tell me she didn’t.”

“No. Well, maybe just when you misheard your teacher saying you should wear your favorite food instead of bringing a picture.”

“Oh God. My classmates all stared at me when I showed up looking like a hot dog sandwich.”

Our gazes meet, and we both laugh. A much-needed relief from the heavy atmosphere earlier. Suddenly, visions flood my mind, scenes like this playing out in sharp detail. Scenes of me and her sharing moments of our lives, drinking our favorite drinks, chatting about our day, and just being with each other.

I want those things so badly that I feel a pain in my chest. A sharp stab of knowledge that I will never have any of those. I can only dream.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to your wedding,” she says, leaning back against the seat.

“It wasn’t much of a wedding, really. We signed papers, and that was it.” The words are lodged in my throat, and I clear it. “Listen, Elena, you deserve to know about us. Me and your mom, I mean.”

Elena shakes her head. “No, it’s fine, Evan. I don’t need to know every detail. We had our differences, Mom and I, but I genuinely only wanted what was best for her.”

“Our marriage was purely transactional. For me, I could continue to live and work in this country and not get deported. For her, she would have a caregiver, who could also help her make medical decisions and sign important papers as needed.”

Elena wrings her fingers before she looks back at me. “I know a bit of that. Mom told me.” She hesitates for a beat and sighs. “This is going to be an awkward question, and you don’t have to answ?—”

“If you’re asking if we’re romantic in any way, the answer is no. We deeply cared about each other, but that was it. Your mom put it best when she said we were each other’s best friend for a time.”

“You never?”

“Had sex? No. We didn’t have that kind of relationship. We were best friends living under one roof. She didn’t even take my name. I was her husband only on paper.”

“I don’t mean this in a bad way, Evan, but if she wanted a caregiver, she didn’t have to marry one.”

“I know, but she didn’t want strangers staying with her. She already knew me, and she trusted me. She trusted me enough to make decisions for her when she couldn’t anymore. She believed I would always do the right thing for her.”

“That makes sense.”

I set the cup down and steeple my fingers in front of my stomach, briefly debating how much I should tell her, eventually deciding to just drop everything now. Besides, what do I have to lose? “She also wanted someone to look after you.”

Elena blows a raspberry. “I’m twenty-three. I don’t need looking after. I’ve been doing fine on my own.”

“That’s what I told her.”

Her gaze lingers on me, a little too long to be casual. The tilt to her head is subtle, almost imperceptible, but it speaks volumes—curiosity, disbelief, and wonder coiled into one expression. Her lips part as though she wants to say something, but no words come.

The silence is thick and charged, and it sucks the air in the room. Even Clawdia shifts by my feet.

“Elena, what is it?”

She gets a faraway look in her eyes. “You’re not who I expected you to be.”

“What did you expect?”

“A smug, arrogant guy who’s happy and relieved she died, who probably has a new, younger woman with him here, and who doesn’t shy away from showing everyone how good his life is now that his wife is gone.”

“Was that why you avoided me like the plague at her funeral?”

“Yes. I hated you back then, and I was a hundred percent sure it wouldn’t take you more than two days to spend Mom’s money and get a new girl.”

It stings that she used to see me like that, but I can’t blame her. Unfortunately, she’s not the only one who thought of me like that, but she’s the only one whose opinion matters to me. “I’m not rich, but I’m not that callous either. I know she added me to her will, but I won’t take any, including this house. It’s not right. You deserve all of it. I don’t.”

“You’re leaving the house?”

I shrug. “Yes, after you. This place … you can do with it as you please. It’s yours. I only held on because I’ve been waiting for you to decide what to do with her things. ”

Elena leans forward, and I try to ignore the cleavage peeking from her button-down pajama top. Not now, Evan. Jesus. “But where will you go?”

“I have a job, Elena. I can rent an apartment. This house doesn’t and will never belong to me.” She frowns and stares hard at me. “You okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re squinting.”

Elena tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and blushes. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I can’t see without my glasses, so I usually do that when I’m talking seriously with someone.” She stands abruptly. “I’m going back to my room. Let me bring your cup.”

She steps toward me and reaches for the cup on my side table, but it’s a second too late when I realize she can’t see the tabby stretched out like an orange tripwire.

Her foot catches on the cat, sending her teetering backward, her arms pinwheeling, her mouth open in a yelp. I shoot forward, my hands finding her waist just as she falls, her weight pressing on me as I pull her upright and to me.

My face is on her soft tits, and she immediately pulls back and slants her body away from me.

“Shit, why did the rug move?”

I shake my head and laugh softly. “Sorry. That’s Clawdia, my tabby cat. I rescued her years ago.”

Her forehead furrows as she stares at the furry figure by her feet. “It’s a cat? Claudia doesn’t sound like a cat’s name.”

“Oh, it’s Clawdia. Claw as in C-L-A-W.”

Elena claps a hand to her mouth, her shoulders shaking. “Oh. Oh my God. That’s awful. Was it Mom’s idea? She was never good at naming pets.”

“It was mine.”

Elena winces, her ears turning red. “Shit. Sorry. I’d better get to bed. Good night, Evan.”

I give her a nod, trying to ignore the weird sadness enveloping me that she’s so near yet so far. “Good night, Elena.”