5. Nate

"I'll wash, you dry," Carly told me begrudgingly as we stood in the warm glow of her mom's kitchen. Dinner had finished up minutes ago, and I could tell my friend was overwhelmed by the way she scurried off to do dishes the second she was free from social obligation. Hell, who could blame her? This was a big change for me, too. There was too much weirdness afoot with trying to accept and settle into a new family dynamic—and the added element of my having the hots for my new stepsister didn't help. That was a side of blended families that old sitcoms like The Brady Bunch had never bothered to talk about.

Dutifully, I picked up the kitchen towel that was hanging on the oven door handle, examining the cute pattern of chickens Carly's mom had clearly picked out with a raised brow. Carly noticed me noticing them.

"No wisecracks on the decor, mister. Remember, you're a guest."

"Ah, but I'm not, am I?" I teased her, moving to stand beside her at the sink. I couldn't help but nudge my shoulder against hers, even though with our height difference, it was really more a shoulder-elbow bump. Any excuse to touch her, really. "We're family now, Carl."

It was like I could hear the deep, exhausted sigh she wanted to release even though she held it back. She couldn't quite hold back her feelings, though—Carly's lovely face was always open, vulnerable despite her toughness. It was something that could have kept me up at night if I were the type of man to be that affected by a woman.

Luckily, I wasn"t the type.

Regardless, it stung a little how her face couldn't help but crumple into a grimace. Something about her apparent distaste for our new family arrangement felt like a rejection. But I did what I did best and bounced back. They called me Nate Young, the Bounce Back Kid.

Okay, that wasn't true. But mostly because I would be more suited to a much cooler nickname.

"I should be offended," I told her flippantly. "But instead, I'll choose not to take that face you made personally."

"You know it's not about you," she reassured me, and the tenderness in her voice was like a cozy blanket for my brain. She squirted dish soap onto the scrub brush, rinsed it under the running sink water, and started to gently brush the residue off a dinner plate. "It's just… this is all a lot. A whole new family. I liked how things were before."

"Things are changing with our parents, but that doesn't mean they have to change between us," I told her sincerely. Then, because I could never resist the urge to crack a joke and make her smile, I tacked on, "Though obviously, I'll expect you to call me Stepbrother Dearest from now on."

Her laugh released some pressure in my chest I hadn't noticed was there. It made it a little easier to say what came next. "It's not easy for Logan and me either, you know. This is a really big change. Our family's had a lot of change over the years, and Logan is kind of like you."

"Hey!" Carly said, clearly offended. I snorted a laugh.

"I meant it as a compliment, you doofus. Give me that plate." I grabbed the plate and started drying it as I explained myself. "I meant that Logan and you both have this… I don't know… steadiness about you. You're practical, and you're firm in your convictions, and all of that's amazing. But you're also both really not great with change. I know you can handle it, though—and Logan, too. Hell, my big bro is the toughest guy I know. And not just in the way you see at work. He's been through a lot of bullshit, with losing his mom when he was young and accepting me and Ben into his life, sharing our dad like that." I shook my head.

"That must have been hard," Carly admitted, sweet sympathy coating her words. "I didn't know that. About him, I mean. It… helps."

She didn't have to tell me exactly what she meant. I could see in her gray eyes, shadowed in the dim kitchen, that there was some spark of interest there—unfamiliar enough to be surprising coming from her, but I'd seen that look on plenty of women's faces before. When I used to seek women, seek sex, as a way to cope with whatever bullshit was still clogging up my brain from my fucked-up childhood, I used to show them careful pieces of vulnerability. It was part of my seduction tactic. I didn't do that anymore, but I still knew how it all worked. Carly was definitely showing signs of softening.

Too bad that now, I was accidentally seducing her for my brother. What a fucking idiot I was. But if I were being honest, Carly wouldn"t make sense with me in the same way she would with Logan, anyway. I'd never been able to hold down a real relationship, and the two of them really did have similar serious, down-to-earth energies. And from the way he'd practically helped raise me and Ben, I knew Logan would be a killer stepdad to Carly's kid. So maybe this was for the best.

She was quiet as I mulled this all over, waiting for me to finish. So, I swallowed down the weird feelings I refused to name as jealousy, cleared my throat, and went on. "Don't tell him I said this, but Logan's the best big brother I could have asked for. He was always a rock for me even when he didn't have one to lean on himself."

"How did you end up as brothers, anyway?" Carly asked. She stared at the dish she was washing, trying to take the pressure off. "If you don't mind my asking."

"I don't mind," I said. "If you don't mind some sad backstory."

"I don't," she assured me.

Alright, then. It was a little heavy, but something about the late hour and the long day we'd both had was opening the floodgates to this kind of conversation. Hell, maybe it was our new weird family roles, too. Was she trying to Uno-reverse card me with my own tried-and-true seduction techniques? And if so, what was the goal? Therapy? Fuck if I knew.

I carefully explained, in the most basic of terms, how I'd ended up in the McDonald house. The typical story of a troubled youth with parents who cared more about themselves and their various vices than to be great caretakers. Logan and I were best friends through school, and it was funny to think, now, that I'd always sort of wished we were brothers.

I'd finally been taken from the Youngs when I was around fourteen. A particularly bad incident I barely remembered anymore involving drugs, a gun going off, and neighbors calling CPS ended with my parents being deemed legally unfit. It was a relief more than anything, and since I was at his and Logan's house all the time anyway, Dwight was kind enough to take me in. What was meant to be temporary while the social workers tried to track down a suitable living relative to raise me turned into Dwight officially adopting me, and the rest was history.

"I think Pop's got some kind of sainthood in the works, especially after he pulled something similar with Bennett," I finished telling Carly as we finished up the dishes. "But our brother can tell you his story himself, when you two meet. I bet Ella and him will really get along, what with their whole nerd thing."

Carly laughed and shoved me hard enough that I stumbled. "Don't call my kid a nerd!"

"I meant nerd as a compliment!" I told her truthfully, even as I was still recovering from my own laughter. "Seriously, Carl, Ella's so awesome. I'm glad I finally got to meet her, even if I'll never forget what she told me about centipedes during dinner." I shivered, and Carly laughed.

"She's a special kid," she agreed.

"I knew that even before I met her," I agreed. "Has she been to the insect room at the zoo in a while, or is she banned after the third birthday incident?"

As Carly and I talked about her favorite subject, her daughter, I leaned against the kitchen counter and felt myself smiling all over. Eventually, the kid herself heard us laughing over something she'd done a month or so before, and she swept into the kitchen with the artificial energy of a sleepy child up past their bedtime. I watched in admiration as Carly negotiated with Ella about bedtime, getting a kick out of Ella's spunk, too.

Carly was a hell of a mother, and though I'd known that already, seeing her in action was a whole new ballgame. If it were possible for me to be more hopelessly infatuated with her than I already was, this moment in her kitchen with her daughter was what would push me over the edge.

Before Carly started at Forge, I wasn't sure I'd felt such strong feelings for a woman before. At least not since my first major crush post-puberty, which had raging hormones heightening it. The moment I'd met her and taken in her full, gorgeous figure, those enticing freckles across her nose, and the cool confidence with which she carried herself, I'd been half nuts with wanting Carly for myself. In my bed, sure, but it felt like more than that, even on all those nights early on when I'd stroked my cock to climax with her husky laugh ringing in my ears.

I'd also never been at all apprehensive about approaching women before Carly. But I was practically scared shitless by the thought of going for it with her. That had an explanation, at least. Carly Sanders was way out of my league, and even if I had the seductive skills at my disposal, I knew there was no point trying to fulfill my sexual fantasies when I really wanted more. Carly didn't date much, if at all, and there was no way she'd break that habit just for a quick roll-in-the-hay with me. No matter how good we both knew I could treat her in bed.

Ship's sailed anyway, Nate. She's your stepsister now.It was almost a relief, if I thought about it hard enough.

"Can Nate tuck me in?" I heard Ella's small voice asking her mom when I broke out of my reverie. She turned those bright green eyes on me, giving her sweetest puppy-dog look. Kids had always seemed to like me as much as I liked them—maybe they sensed that I was basically a big kid myself. It was very satisfying to me that Carly's daughter was no exception, that my attempts at charming her during dinner had worked.

"Baby, Nate's got stuff to do. But if you go get your jammies on and brush your teeth, I'll come read you your favorite story. How's that?"

Ella pouted for a second, jutting out her lower lip dramatically and making me laugh. But then her face lit up with excitement again, and she had a new idea in that little genius brain of hers. "Is Nate busy Saturday? Can he come to the new playground with us?"

Carly looked baffled by this request. Her eyes found mine, trying to transmit an unnecessary apology through telepathy. I could sense she wasn't stoked about this idea, that it was a well-established plan that suited her type-A mind. I should help her shut this down, but some mischievous spirit seemed to take control. Maybe it was because I really wanted to see this new playground.

Before Carly could shut it down, I proudly said, "I'd love to come to the playground with you and your mom, Ella. What time should I pick you ladies up?"

It was a stupid idea, of course, a contradiction to everything I'd been telling myself—that Carly and I were just friends, that I wasn't that into her anyway, that she'd be better off with someone who wasn't me. Maybe my brother. But hell, all of us were family now, weren't we? There couldn't be any harm in some innocent family fun at a local park.

Carly seemed to accept this fact, too. And it was obvious she'd do anything to make that little girl smile. So she said yes, and Ella squealed, and the plan was set. I wondered, for a second, if I could convincingly lie to myself that it was a date.