For the next several weeks, my life revolved around waiting to hear from my brother. I turned down offers to go out with Bo and other friends in order to stay home and wait by the phone. When Clint did call, our conversations tended to be brief; he made a point not to speak of what we'd shared at Gran's house, so I didn't, either. 

Though I told myself my growing worry was ridiculous and that Clint was simply being careful, anxiety continued to gnaw at my insides. I was reminded of those first days he and I had spent together, when I was terrified of making a critical misstep. I couldn't help but feel that he was trying to pull away from me and revert back to his role as merely my half-sibling.

Of course, on some level, I'd understood this might happen. Maybe that was why I was so despondent when I said goodbye to him that overcast Sunday: I knew I could lose him once he returned to his normal routine, and to his life away from me.

Finally, I broached the subject of us meeting at the house again. After all, we couldn't let it keep sitting unoccupied. Clint agreed, and we arranged to spend the following weekend at the property we now owned together. 

"I can't wait!" I said, bouncing on the balls of my feet while holding the phone to my ear. "I've missed you so much."

He hesitated only a moment before telling me, "I've missed you, too, sweetheart." 

It was still dark outside when I woke on Saturday to get ready. I spent a crazy amount of time on my hair and makeup. I wore a new dress, one I'd recently bought on sale at the mall. It had a modest hemline which fell to my knees, but the bodice did a fantastic job of accentuating my breasts. Before I left the apartment, I slipped on an ivory crocheted cardigan to ward off the spring morning's chill.

During the drive, nervous excitement rippled through me like a current. Repeatedly, I assured myself that Clint and I would pick up right where we'd left off. Reunited in that house, with no one else there to judge, we wouldn't be able to resist each other.

I was the first to arrive, so I set about putting away the groceries I'd bought. All the while, I tried to ignore how different the house looked now that many of Gran's belongings were gone. Though I knew Clint and I would eventually be forced to sell the place, it was still painful to imagine never walking through these rooms again.

I drifted to the largest bedroom, where my brother and I had spent most of our nights. A flush of arousal heated my skin as I remembered the way he'd taken me not only in that bed, but in every room of the house, and in practically every position. The erotic reverie left me aching and wet between my thighs.

By the time I heard his car pull up outside, I was desperate to have him inside me. My flats slapped against the kitchen tile as I rushed toward the living room. Scrabbling at the front door's lock, I realized I was shaking. 

Wrenching open the door, I stepped out onto the porch with a huge smile on my face. 

My smile instantly vanished when I discovered Clint wasn't alone. At his side stood a gorgeous, lithe brunette. Her hair fell in perfect waves down her back. She hadn't yet taken a step toward the house, but I knew when she did, her movements would be poised and graceful. 

The sight of this woman smiling up at Clint, while he had his arm around her waist, made my stomach lurch. I started blinking rapidly in an effort to fight back tears.

It was then that Clint's eyes met mine. Whatever he saw in my face made his expression darken. Did he see the pleading my stare held? Why have you done this to me, Clint? I wanted to cry out. Why have you done this to us?

Somehow, I had the presence of mind to draw my shoulders back and take a deep breath. My heart felt like it had gone topsy-turvy in my chest, but I did my best to hide the agony. 

"Good morning," I called to Clint and his girlfriend. My voice was nothing but a pitiful croak.

Millicent turned her warm smile upon me. "Good morning! You must be Sylvia." Slipping from Clint's embrace, she started in my direction. 

I headed down the porch steps, keeping a firm hold on the railing. My false smile felt strange on my face. "It's wonderful to meet you, Millicent. Clint's told me so much about you."

Instead of offering her hand, the woman drew me into a hug. Over her shoulder, I flashed a look of warning at my brother, who quickly averted his eyes.

"All good things, I hope!" Millicent said.

"Of course." I gave her a brief squeeze and then stepped away. 

Millicent's blue eyes brightened even more as she studied the house. "What a charming little home! So quaint."

"Come on inside," I said. "I'm sure Clint will be happy to give you a tour."

The three of us filed up the steps. Behind me, Clint carried Millicent's small suitcase, along with his overnight bag. "How was your drive?" he asked quietly.

I refused to look back at him. "Fine," I replied in a clipped tone. My anguished surprise was quickly morphing into fury. I couldn't believe he'd brought along his girlfriend—the one he swore he wasn't serious about! He had to know how devastated I would be.

In the living room, I watched the two of them. To my credit, I kept up my pleasant façade while talking to Millicent. After all, she had no idea I was in love with Clint, and she was obviously trying to make a good impression on me. He must have told her I was the only family he had left.

As Clint gave her a brief tour, I hurried to the larger bedroom in order to retrieve my bag. It went without saying that I'd take the smaller room. When I saw its neatly made bed, the very bed in which Clint and I had first made love, my face crumpled. I struggled to regain my composure, fearing I'd lose it entirely. All I wanted was to lock myself in that room and hide.

I was standing at the window, with my cardigan pulled tight around me, when I heard a soft knock on the open door. 

"Are you hungry?" Clint asked from behind me. "I thought I'd make some breakfast."

"I've already eaten," I lied. 

I heard him draw closer. His steps were tentative. The moment he rested his hands on my shoulders, I shrugged off his touch. 

"Sylvia—" 

I shook my head, refusing to hear what he had to say. Ducking past him, I strode to the kitchen, where I encountered Millicent. She was looking through the cabinets and rounding up ingredients for whatever meal she and Clint planned to prepare.

"We stopped at the store on the way here," she told me while I began making coffee. "Just to pick up a few staples. How does French toast sound for breakfast?"

Glancing over at her, I found that she seemed almost hopeful waiting for my response.

I forced another friendly smile. "Sounds great!" 

Clint rejoined us in the kitchen, and I kept my distance from him. As Millicent chattered away, occasionally asking me questions about my job and hobbies, I struggled not to scream. If I could have just one goddamn hour to come to terms with this, without my brother's girlfriend practically on top of me in the small house, I might be able to stay the whole weekend. 

I was setting the table when Millicent placed a hand on my back. It took effort not to bristle beneath her touch. 

"It must be bittersweet for you, staying at this house," she murmured. "I'm sure you still miss your grandmother very much."

She'd obviously mistaken my low mood for lingering grief. "I do miss her," I said to Millicent. "There are a lot of memories for me here." As I spoke, I gave Clint a meaningful look. He and I had made two weeks' worth of unforgettable memories in this place.

He held my stare, his eyes full of silent apology. 

During breakfast, I made a point to compliment Millicent on her cooking. She beamed at my praise. "I'm still learning more challenging meals," she revealed. "I don't think I'll ever be a natural in the kitchen, though."

Despite my anger, I couldn't stop sneaking glances at Clint, whose focus was fixed on the plate before him. Even with his girlfriend between us, I longed to reach for his hand. I wanted to kiss and stroke him, to feel that delicious warmth he always instilled in me. My longing, and my love, ran deep beneath the surface of this fresh pain.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Sylvia?" Millicent asked before taking another bite of French toast.

My blush must have been apparent, for she was quick to apologize for prying. Meanwhile, my brother squirmed in his chair.

"I'm not seeing anyone, no," I said quietly.

Again, the woman misread me. Giving my arm a comforting squeeze, she said, "You'll meet someone soon, I'm sure of it. A beautiful girl like you won't be single for long!"

It was becoming harder to keep a smile fixed on my face. "I'm okay with being single." My tone was deceptively breezy.

"Oh, I felt the same way at your age!" Millicent glanced at Clint. "But once I turned thirty, I figured I needed to focus on finding Mr. Right. Someone to settle down with and start a family."

I practically choked on my juice. My brother snapped his head up, looking from me to Millicent. His shocked expression made it clear he didn't consider himself her Mr. Right. 

Unable to bear any more of this loaded conversation, I pressed my fingers to my left temple. "I'm sorry," I said, "but I feel a horrible headache coming on. I think I need to go lie down."

Millicent's eyes widened in concern. "Oh, no! Do you need some aspirin? I have some in my purse." 

"That's okay." Abruptly, I pushed back my chair and stood.

Clint climbed to his feet as well. "Are you alright?" he asked, his brow furrowing. 

I merely nodded before fleeing the kitchen. When I reached the bedroom, I closed the door firmly behind me, then stepped out of my flats. 

Though it was only mid-morning, the bed drew me toward it with an almost magnetic force. I was suddenly so tired, unable to fathom how I would get through the rest of the weekend. This house, a former place of refuge, now felt like a prison. 

Beneath the covers, I curled up on my side, with my back to the door. My gaze drifted to the window; beyond the glass, I could see trees sporting new leaves. The blue sky above them was cloudless. 

I closed my eyes but couldn't sleep. Occasionally, I heard Clint's low voice as he spoke to Millicent. The thought of him kissing her, the way he'd kissed me, started an awful ache in my chest. As if to punish myself, I imagined them making love. Did Millicent come as hard as I did? Did she share my eagerness for sucking his cock? I doubted it.

Yet she would be the one sharing his bed tonight. Not me.

A little later, there was another knock at the door. I prayed it wasn't my brother's girlfriend. 

When I stayed quiet, the door slowly opened. "Sylvia," Clint spoke in a voice just above a whisper, "how are you feeling?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I pulled the covers up to my chin. 

He closed the door behind him, then approached the bed. Even as he sat on its edge, I stayed curled in a ball, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

His hand was gentle on my hair. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he began.

I jerked away from his touch, my anger growing into an unbearable inferno within me. Sitting up in the bed, I hissed, "How dare you bring her to this house? To our house?" Though it felt as if fury would consume my entire being, I had the sense to keep my voice down.

Clint's expression was pained as he reached for me again. This time, I allowed his hands to linger on my upper arms. "I'm sorry. I was an idiot to think this would work."

"Why did you do it? I don't understand!" Tears flooded my eyes. "If you didn't want to be here alone with me, you could have told me on the fucking phone! Instead, you bring your girlfriend here to... what? To make sure I don't try to touch you? To stop me from coming to your bed?"

His grasp tightened on my arms, and he gave me a shake. "I didn't bring her here to stop you," he said, his eyes flashing. "I did it to stop myself. These last few weeks, I've been eaten up with guilt over what I did." 

A single sob escaped my lips before I choked back my tears. I'd been prepared to tackle almost any obstacle to our secret relationship, but I was no match for Clint's shame. I'd always feared I would lose him to that corrosive emotion. And now my worst fear had become reality.

"Just leave me alone," I whimpered. "Go be with your girlfriend. After this weekend, you can finish clearing out the house so we can list it for sale. And then you'll never have to see me again."

"Sylvia!" Though his voice was uncharacteristically sharp, his eyes glistened with his own unshed tears. I couldn't remember a time I'd ever seen my brother cry.

It was then that Millicent called to Clint from down the hall. I took full advantage of the interruption to yank free of his hold on my arms. Curling on my side once more, I waited for him to leave. 

Several interminable moments passed before he did. As soon as I heard the door close behind him, I buried my face in the pillow to muffle a wail. Even as my sobs grew violent, to the point where I feared I actually would be sick, I made sure Millicent didn't hear me. 

*****

Crying was an exhausting act, and it brought little relief. Miraculously, I managed to drift off to sleep. I had no idea what Clint and Millicent did that afternoon, for I stayed shut away in my room. Only when the daylight thinned, signaling evening's approach, did I finally climb from the bed. 

In the bathroom, I grimaced at my reflection. My eyes were still swollen from crying so hard, and I had to wash all that carefully applied makeup from my face. I felt ridiculous in my new dress but didn't have the energy to change into something else.

Stepping back out into the hall, I heard the sound of the television. A knot of dread formed in my stomach while I made my way to the living room.

Millicent was sitting with Clint on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder. As soon as she saw me, she sat up. "Are you okay?" Her voice was tinged with alarm. 

I knew I looked like a wreck. "I'm feeling a little better." Sinking into a nearby chair, I added, "Sorry I haven't been much company." Despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but glance at Clint. He appeared stricken while studying my face.

"Please don't apologize for that!" Millicent gave me a sympathetic smile. "How about some dinner? I can make soup; that'll be easy on your stomach."

I didn't think I could manage to sit through another meal with the two of them. "I'm not hungry, but you and Clint should go on and eat."

Millicent fussed over me a little longer before heading to the kitchen. When Clint climbed to his feet and slowly approached me, I kept my stare fixed on the television screen.

My brother lingered beside my chair. Wordlessly, he extended a hand and stroked my cheek. I closed my eyes, fighting back my abject need for his touch. 

"Can you ever forgive me?" he whispered.

I had no answer for him. 

Finally, he left the room, and I sank deeper into the chair, folding my legs beneath me. I gazed mindlessly at the television, processing none of what appeared on the screen. All the while, I counted the hours until I could return to my room. In the morning, I would get up early and leave before Clint and Millicent woke. I'd leave it to my brother to come up with an excuse for my abrupt departure.

That evening, the three of us sat in the living room. I nibbled on peanut butter crackers while Millicent laughed at a sitcom. The scene became more and more surreal to me. A bitter smile pulled at my lips when I imagined how Clint's girlfriend would react if she knew he'd fucked me, many times, on that couch. 

If I were vindictive like my mother, I would have taken pleasure in the fact that Clint looked utterly miserable. But his despair merely served to feed my own.

At ten o'clock on the dot, I wished them both good night and retreated from the living room. I went through my normal routine of taking my birth control pill and brushing my teeth. Feeling slightly dehydrated, I drank two glasses of water before going to bed.

I couldn't get comfortable in the darkness, and I wasn't at all tired. As the night deepened, I heard Clint and Millicent taking turns in the bathroom. And then I heard the door to the other bedroom close.

I strained my ears to detect the slightest noise. What if I heard the rhythmic squeak of that old bedframe? I didn't think my brother would be so cruel. Then again, I never would have dreamed he'd bring Millicent...