Three months later...
Dean pulled up his driveway, opened the garage door, and parked his Challenger. He noticed the door leading into the house was cracked open. He didn't get a call about an alarm. Maybe he forgot to close it before he left this morning, but that is highly unlikely. He removed his Glock from its holster. He clicked the door shut on the Challenger as quietly as he could. He went up the three small steps and opened the door with the gun's muzzle. The door creaked slightly. He made his way through the mudroom, down the hallway past the laundry room, and into the kitchen. The refrigerator door was open, and someone was behind it.
"Don't fucking move. There is a Glock 22 pointed directly at you; I've had an unbelievably dreadful day and wouldn't mind shooting someone just to make myself feel better. Slowly let me see your hands," he said.
A small pair of hands peeked out of the side of the door. He saw a pair of little white tennis shoes shuffled sideways.
"I swear I was going to replace the beer."
He knew the voice instantly.
"Tink?"
Sarah's head peered out from behind the door. "Please don't shoot me, Bean. I have so much to life left to live."
She came out from behind the door and closed it. She looked beautiful. Her golden blonde hair was down in big barrel curls. She wore a copper-colored silk shirt that brought the grey out of her eyes. Her faded jeans had premanufactured holes in the knees and the thighs. Her waist was tiny and sinched with a leather belt that she had poked extra holes in despite being a size extra small. Her lashes were long with mascara, and her cheeks were naturally pink. Her lips were supple and shiny with light pink gloss.
He hadn't seen her in what felt like forever. The urge to pick her up, take her right to his room, and undress her slowly was crippling.
"Jesus Christ. I almost shot you." He holstered the Glock. "Put your hands down."
"Nice to see you too, big brother. I must say, seeing you with the Glock is really fucking sexy," she said.
"What are you doing here... in my house."
"Does a sister need an excuse to see her favorite brother?"
He removed the holster and set his gun on the counter. He then threw his keys in the bowl on the small table by the kitchen's entrance.
"I'm your only brother."
"True. But you're still my favorite."
"Really, what are you doing here?" he asked.
She walked up to him and put her arms around his waist. He felt smaller than the last time she had held him.
"I missed you. I don't like how we left things. You won't answer my calls or my texts. Do you hate me, Bean?"
"So, you hopped on the Gulfstream and flew here just because I didn't text you back? That would be an extremely expensive text message, and I could never hate you. You know I love you."
"If you would have answered me once, I wouldn't have had to do that... and remember Alicia is getting married next month, so I'm here for the shower and the Bachelorette party," Sarah said.
"That's right. So, you aren't really here to see me; you need a place to stay because you're too cheap to spring for a room."
She released him and hopped up onto the kitchen island. She sat swinging her legs back and forth.
Why does she have to be so fucking cute!
"That and I wanted to look you in the eyes when I told you how sorry I am about what went down the last time I saw you. "
"What is done cannot be undone," he said, taking a beer from the fridge. "It is what it is. I think we both know you made your choice that weekend, and I have accepted it."
No, you haven't, you fucking idiot. Save face. Don't give in. Don't let her see the truth in your eyes.
"Bean, you missed Christmas, New Year's, Dad, and Uncle Perry's birthday. They turned like eighty; it was a big deal."
He looked at his sister and smiled. "I am fairly sure it was their fiftieth."
"Are you still coming for Easter? You can't have covid again. Mom is a phone call away from sending you to a special Scandinavian clinic for immunocompromised billionaires."
"Yes, I will be there for Easter. I'm coming Saturday afternoon and going home Monday night."
"What? One day? You're only going to be there for one day?"
"No, I will be there for 38 hours. More than a day."
She was crushed, and he could tell.
"How was Christmas? What did you do on New Year's?" he asked. He started looking through the cabinets for something to eat. He wasn't hungry. He never was anymore. He had lost weight and was now incredibly lean. He went to the fridge instead and took out a beer.
"Why do you care? She took an apple out of the bowl that was sitting beside her. She went to hand one to him. "You look thin. Have you been eating?"
He refused the apple. "Did you spend it with him?" He took a long drag from the beer.
She dropped the subject about his new weight loss program.
"You mean my boyfriend? Eric. Do you really want to know? Well, let's see. We cuddled up on the floor by the Christmas tree and watched the ball drop. Then we made love in the glow of the lights. After that, we went on a long ride under the stars. He and I rode together on Payton, under the stars, and we stopped and kissed on every acre we rode. I think it was about fifty times. Then we came back to the house, talked at length about getting engaged, and had sex in your shower and then in your bed all night long. It was the best New Year's Eve I have ever had."
Dean looked like he was about to pop his cork. His jaw was clenched, and his skin was bright red. She saw him balling his fists like he was squeezing stress balls.
"You fucking did what? You let him ride Payton and fucked in my shower and my bed, and you talked about getting fucking getting married! Christ Sarah. Do you hate me that much now?" She could see the tears forming in his eyes.
She took a large bite of the apple. Juice dribbled down her chin. She rolled her eyes. "Bean, calm down! I am just fucking with you."
"About which part?" he asked.
"We were lying on the floor by the tree and watched the ball and kissed at midnight. Mom and Dad were home, and Payton never left the stable, and neither did Eric's cock," she said.
Dean flinched at the mention of Eric's cock. Dear Lord, kill me now.
His face softened. His fists unfurled. His body relaxed.
"Really? You swear.?"
"Yes. I swear on Mr. Bear's life," she said.
"Hey, don't drag Mr. Bear into this." He smiled.
"I really have missed you, Bean, and I was really hoping you would let me stay here for a couple of days." She put her arms out for him.
"Were you now?" he said, putting down his beer.
He walked up to her. "I have nowhere for you to stay. None of my other rooms are furnished. Mine is the only functioning bedroom."
She put her arms around his neck. He put his large hands on her petite waist.
"I won't steal the covers, I promise." She looked up at him with wide, round eyes.
"You know I cave when you give me those doe eyes." She ran her fingers through his thick black hair. He closed his eyes. "And you know how much I love it when you do that."
"Of course I do. That's why I do it. Did you miss me like I missed you?"
He smiled. "How did you miss me? Like a little sister misses her big brother or...
"Like a lover misses someone she loves?" she said.
She ran her hands over his chest and down his arms. Then, putting her tiny hands up the back of his shirt, she felt his warm skin and back muscles.
"I missed feeling you. I missed my hands running along your curves. It's been so long."
He ran his hands up her sides. He gently squeezed her breast as he looked into her eyes. Stop, you fucking idiot! Get your hands off of her! Don't open this fucking door again!
"Out of sight, out of mind? Or distance makes the heart grow fonder?"
"Distance made the heart ache more," Dean said.
She traced his jawline and cradled his face. "Kiss me, hello, Bean."
Don't do it. Don't do it. You're going to fucking do it, aren't you? Fucking massacist.
He put his hand behind her head and pulled her face towards his. They kissed like two lovers. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him towards her. His pelvis pushed against hers. After a couple of minutes, they pulled their mouths apart. They rested their foreheads together.
"We shouldn't do this," he whispered.
"I know. I want to one last time. All this time apart has made me ache for you. Have you not thought of me? Don't you ache for me too? Tell me you don't, and I will call the Regency Beverly Wilshire and get a room."
He said nothing. He just stood there, his forehead resting on hers.
"Tell me you don't," Sarah said, her voice shaking.
"You know how many 'one last time' we've had. Those words no longer have any true meaning between us. It's like when I say I'm never drinking again."
"All you have to say is no."
"I can't. If I did, I would be lying. I would never lie to you, Tink. I love you too much."
"And I would never lie to you, Bean," she said, avoiding eye contact.
But she had lied to him, majorly. Everything she told him about how she spent her New Year's Eve was true. Except for the talk of an engagement and having sex in his bed. She could never be that cruel. She didn't want to marry Eric. She really wanted to be with Dean. She knew she was only going through the motions with Eric. He was her beard.
She started to unbutton his shirt. She kissed his chest. He grabbed her hands and stopped her. He kissed them, then he buttoned his shirt back up.
"I want to. I want to so badly, but I..."
"If you want to, then what's stopping us?" Sarah asked like a petulant child.
He said nothing because he didn't have a good reason.
He pried her legs from around his waist. "I have to take a shower. I'm happy to see you. Make yourself at home," he said.
He went off to his bedroom, leaving her in the kitchen.
He made sure he locked the bathroom door. He didn't need a replay of what started the whole damn thing. He stripped off his clothes. When the water was warm, he got in. He had become aroused from the situation in the kitchen. He had two choices. Turn the water to cold and think about football or relieve himself while thinking about anything else but his baby sister. He tried to think of someone else. All the women he had ever been with. All the women he knows he could easily be with but the only person who kept coming to mind was the person he wanted to be with. He turned on the icy water and let the frigid water cool him off one cell at a time.
I am going to have to tell her to call the Wilshire. I can't control myself with her here. She can stay tonight, but I will sleep in the basement tonight. Nothing is going to happen tonight or tomorrow. We are done. I am done.
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