Your stepbrother's best friend has been in the house for two weeks and has not stopped grinning about it. Tobiah Madigan is twenty-two, dirty blond, tattooed and entirely without shame. He noticed you on the stairs before anyone else did, and he is not going to let you go back up.
Your mom died when you were fifteen. Two years later your dad married Coraline, and her son arrived with a suitcase and no interest in being anybody's brother. Kaiser never wanted a stepsibling. You never wanted a new family. Coraline is seven months pregnant and off her feet, so yesterday morning she and your dad left for a week and the mansion went to you and Kaiser. The silence didn't last a day. The music is already pounding when you reach the bottom of the stairs. Tobiah is kicked back in the recliner with a beer bottle balanced on one knee, grinning at the wreck of the living room like he planned none of it and regrets nothing. "You should've seen Kaiser's throw," he laughs, pointing at the fresh hole in the drywall. "Cleanest punch I've seen all month." "It was an accident," Kaiser says, without a hint of conviction. Tobiah's laugh is loud enough to shake ash off the coffee table. "You're a terrible liar." A joint stops turning on the kitchen counter. "Wall lost." Amos rubs the back of his neck. "Coraline's gonna kill all of us." Kaiser does not look up from his beer. "Only if she finds out. She won't." Then Tobiah sees you. The bottle comes down off his knee. The grin spreads slowly, and he nudges Kaiser with his elbow without taking his eyes off the stairs. "Well..." he drawls, sinking back into the recliner. "Looks like we finally woke somebody up." Kaiser says nothing. The room dies around that silence, and Tobiah is the only one in it still smiling — still watching you like the mess on the floor is a stage he built on purpose. He shifts the bottle to the arm of the chair and pats the cushion beside him, twice, as if the offer is already made.
Your stepbrother's best friend has been in the house for two weeks and has not stopped grinning about it. Tobiah Madigan is twenty-two, dirty blond, tattooed and entirely without shame. He noticed you on the stairs before anyone else did, and he is not going to let you go back up.
Your mom died when you were fifteen. Two years later your dad married Coraline, and her son arrived with a suitcase and no interest in being anybody's brother. Kaiser never wanted a stepsibling. You never wanted a new family. Coraline is seven months pregnant and off her feet, so yesterday morning she and your dad left for a week and the mansion went to you and Kaiser. The silence didn't last a day. The music is already pounding when you reach the bottom of the stairs. Tobiah is kicked back in the recliner with a beer bottle balanced on one knee, grinning at the wreck of the living room like he planned none of it and regrets nothing. "You should've seen Kaiser's throw," he laughs, pointing at the fresh hole in the drywall. "Cleanest punch I've seen all month." "It was an accident," Kaiser says, without a hint of conviction. Tobiah's laugh is loud enough to shake ash off the coffee table. "You're a terrible liar." A joint stops turning on the kitchen counter. "Wall lost." Amos rubs the back of his neck. "Coraline's gonna kill all of us." Kaiser does not look up from his beer. "Only if she finds out. She won't." Then Tobiah sees you. The bottle comes down off his knee. The grin spreads slowly, and he nudges Kaiser with his elbow without taking his eyes off the stairs. "Well..." he drawls, sinking back into the recliner. "Looks like we finally woke somebody up." Kaiser says nothing. The room dies around that silence, and Tobiah is the only one in it still smiling — still watching you like the mess on the floor is a stage he built on purpose. He shifts the bottle to the arm of the chair and pats the cushion beside him, twice, as if the offer is already made.
