Chapter 3 3

The first few days in the new house blurred into each other, a mix of unpacking, meeting new people, and trying to adapt to a new routine that felt like I was stepping into a life that didn't quite belong to me. There were moments when I almost felt like a visitor in my own skin-like I was still adjusting to the idea that I was now living under the same roof as Patrick, and that my mom and his dad were a real, permanent thing.

The tension between Patrick and me simmered quietly, never fully gone but always just beneath the surface. Our interactions were polite, almost forced at times, with neither of us daring to address what had happened during those first few days.

But I couldn't stop thinking about it. The way he had looked at me in the kitchen. The soft words he'd spoken on the porch. There was a complexity to Patrick that went beyond the moody, silent guy I'd first met. And though I hated to admit it, I was starting to see that there was more to him than I ever gave credit for.

---

By the third Saturday, I had a clear sense of how my life was shaping up here. Most of the time, I was on my own, trying to get settled. But on weekends like this, when my mom was working, Patrick and I were usually left alone. And that left... a strange feeling in the air between us.

I was sitting on the couch in the living room, flipping through a book I wasn't really reading. The house was unusually quiet, except for the sound of my own breathing and the soft hum of the air conditioner. My mind wandered, as it often did these days, back to the little things I couldn't ignore about Patrick.

I glanced toward the kitchen, half-expecting him to walk through the door, but instead, I saw him standing outside in the yard through the glass windows. He was pacing, looking frustrated and lost in thought, his hands raking through his hair.

Something in my gut tightened at the sight of him. The air between us had always been thick with something unspoken, but today it felt heavier.

Without really thinking about it, I stood up and walked outside. My feet moved on their own, as though they knew exactly where they were going. The porch creaked under my weight as I stepped onto it, and Patrick's head snapped up, his eyes meeting mine with a sharpness that I almost flinched from.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, his voice low and guarded.

I shrugged, not sure how to explain the impulse to follow him. "I saw you standing there... I thought maybe you were... I don't know... lost in thought?"

Patrick raised an eyebrow. "You could say that." He exhaled sharply, rubbing his hands on his jeans. "I've been dealing with some stuff, I guess."

I wanted to ask more-about what was bothering him, about the things I couldn't help but feel he was hiding-but instead, I stood there, feeling the weight of the unspoken words hanging between us. There was something fragile about the way he was standing, something raw in his posture that made me hesitate.

"I'm here if you want to talk," I said quietly. "I mean... I'm still figuring this whole thing out too."

Patrick shifted his weight, casting a long glance in my direction. For a moment, I thought he might shut me out again, but then he spoke.

"It's just..." He rubbed his neck, clearly frustrated. "This whole thing with my dad... he's been distant. Ever since... ever since he started dating your mom. I guess I just feel like everything changed overnight."

I nodded, surprised by his honesty. "I get that. My mom hasn't been the same either. She's happier, sure, but sometimes I feel like I'm just... forgotten."

Patrick's gaze softened for a brief moment before it hardened again. "Yeah. I think we both know what it's like to be forgotten."

My chest tightened at his words, and I didn't know how to respond. So instead, I just took a step closer, lowering my voice to match his.

"Are you mad at me?"

His eyes flicked to mine, flickering with something I couldn't place. "Mad at you? For what?"

"For being here. For... messing up everything. For being your new sister." I almost winced at the word. It still felt too alien on my tongue, but I pushed through it.

Patrick ran a hand through his hair again, looking a little lost for words. Then he sighed, lowering his gaze. "I'm not mad at you, Charlotte. This... this is just hard for me, okay? I didn't ask for any of this."

I swallowed, the weight of his words pressing down on me. For a moment, we stood there, the tension lingering like a thick fog. The silence felt heavier than it ever had before.

"I didn't ask for it either," I whispered, my heart unexpectedly raw. "But here we are."

He looked up at me then, his expression softening. For the first time since we met, I saw something that resembled vulnerability in his eyes. The walls he usually had up, that fierce guard around his emotions, seemed to be slipping away just a little.

"I don't want to hate you," he said, his voice almost a confession.

"You don't have to," I replied quietly, feeling a warmth spreading through my chest. "We don't have to hate each other."

Patrick stared at me for a moment, and then, as though he couldn't hold it in any longer, he let out a short laugh, almost incredulously. "This is crazy, right?"

I couldn't help but laugh too. "Yeah. But maybe... maybe it's not as bad as we think."

We both stood there, breathing in the same air, the connection between us thick and undeniable. There was something between us now, something real that neither of us could ignore. A silent understanding that, despite all the complications, maybe we weren't so different after all.

And that's when I realized-maybe this wasn't just about moving in with a new family. Maybe it was about learning to live with the person who had been standing just inches away from me all along.

"Hey," I said, breaking the silence, "maybe we can survive this whole thing. You and me."

Patrick looked at me for a long moment, his lips curling into a small, genuine smile. "Yeah," he said softly. "Maybe we can."

We stood there for a moment longer, just letting the quiet wash over us. It wasn't perfect, but in that small moment, it felt like we might finally be finding our way through the chaos.

---

We settled into some kind of routine, where Patrick and I still walked around each other with a careful wariness, but the silence between us didn't feel as suffocating anymore. We still had our moments of tension- those flashes where we both retreated into the places we were most comfortable. But there were also moments when the walls came down, and it felt like maybe we were starting to build something together.

It was strange, though. There were times when I caught myself looking at him in ways I didn't expect. The way he leaned against the kitchen counter, the way he smiled when he was around his friends, even the way he looked when he was lost in thought. I realized, with a small shock, that I wasn't just seeing him as my stepbrother anymore. I was seeing him as Patrick- this complex, layered guy who I couldn't quite figure out but who I was undeniably drawn to... And I couldn't help but wonder- where was this all going?

---

As the days wore on, the house began to feel more like a home, but the strange, shifting dynamics between Patrick and me remained at the heart of it all. It wasn't that we were at odds-far from it. But there was a growing unease between us, something that was neither friendship nor rivalry, but something more complicated.

We had our moments of normalcy, where we laughed over dumb things, played video games together, or even helped each other with homework. But the times when we found ourselves alone felt... different. There was an undercurrent of tension, like something unsaid lingered between us.

It wasn't just about being step-siblings anymore. I was starting to see him in ways I hadn't allowed myself to before-his soft smile when he thought no one was looking, the way he always tried to keep his emotions in check even when everything around him seemed to be falling apart. Patrick was complicated in a way I hadn't expected, and it was both fascinating and terrifying all at once.

I tried to ignore it, but it wasn't easy.

It was late one evening, and I was sprawled across the couch in the living room, a book in my lap, but my mind elsewhere. The house was quiet, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound. I hadn't seen Patrick for hours, which was unusual for us. Normally, we'd hang out after dinner, doing something mindless like watching TV or playing some game, but tonight he was nowhere to be found.

I stood up, stretching, when I heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway. I looked over to see Patrick walking into the room, his expression unreadable.

"You okay?" I asked, my voice casual but the concern slipping through.

He nodded, but his eyes told a different story. "Yeah, just... tired."

I could tell he wasn't telling the truth, but I didn't push him. Instead, I offered a small smile. "You want to play something? Or we could just chill for a bit. I'm about to finish this chapter."

Patrick hesitated, then sank down onto the other end of the couch, pulling a pillow into his lap. For a moment, the two of us sat in silence, the comfortable quiet between us almost normal. But it wasn't normal. Not really. I could feel the way his presence seemed to fill up the space, how every little shift of his body had my attention.

"Why do you always act like you don't care?" I blurted out, surprising myself with the question.

Patrick's head turned toward me, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," I said, looking away. "You put up this wall, like you don't want anyone to get close. Not just me-everyone. Why?"

He was quiet for a long moment. The kind of quiet that stretched long enough for me to wonder if he was even going to respond.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt," he finally said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

I tilted my head slightly, trying to understand. "Hurt?"

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine, as if deciding whether or not he should tell me. Finally, he spoke again. "I've been hurt before. People who I let in... they leave. It's easier if you just don't care. If you don't get attached."

For a moment, I was speechless. I thought about how many times I had seen Patrick shut people out, how distant and cold he could be even when we were in the same room. And now, hearing him say it out loud, I realized just how much pain was buried beneath the surface.

"I didn't know," I said quietly. "I mean... I thought maybe you just didn't like me."

Patrick's lips twitched at the corners, though it wasn't a smile. "I don't dislike you. I just... don't know how to handle all this. You, my dad, everything changing. It's a lot to deal with."

I nodded, trying to process what he had just told me. It was hard to wrap my head around the idea that Patrick, the guy who always seemed like he had everything figured out, was struggling just like I was. We were both stuck in this weird place, unsure of where we fit or how we were supposed to be.

We sat in silence for a few more moments, the weight of his words hanging between us. Then, as though he couldn't hold the tension anymore, Patrick leaned back against the couch, his hand rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"I didn't ask for this," he said again, almost to himself. "I didn't ask for a new family. I didn't ask for any of this to happen."

"I didn't ask for it either," I said softly, my voice almost a whisper. "But here we are, right?"

Patrick chuckled bitterly, a sound that didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah. Here we are."

It was strange-being here, in this house, talking to him. Patrick had always been a mystery to me, this quiet, intense guy who never let anyone in. And now, here we were, two people who had been thrust together by circumstances neither of us could control, both trying to figure out how to make it work.

Patrick, in his own way, was reaching out-opening up in a way I hadn't expected. And maybe... just maybe, I was beginning to understand him better than I had before.

---

The next few days felt like a turning point. Patrick and I still had our moments of awkwardness, those silent pauses where neither of us knew what to say or how to act. But there was something different now-a quiet understanding that hovered in the background. We weren't just step-siblings anymore. We were two people who were trying to figure out how to exist in the same space, even if that meant being uncomfortable sometimes.

One evening, as the sun began to set, I found myself sitting on the front steps, staring out at the yard. I had a notebook in my lap, though I wasn't really writing. My thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation Patrick and I had shared the night before. There was so much I wanted to ask him, so much I wanted to know about his life, his past, and the things that haunted him.

But I didn't want to push him. I didn't want to make him feel like he had to tell me everything.

I heard footsteps behind me and looked up to see Patrick walking over, his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie.

"Hey," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

I raised an eyebrow. "Hey. What's up?"

He shrugged, standing next to me. "Not much. Just thought I'd join you for a bit."

I patted the step next to me. "You can sit, you know. I don't bite."

Patrick chuckled softly, settling down beside me. For a moment, neither of us said anything. We just sat there, side by side, watching the sky turn from pink to purple, the stars beginning to blink into existence one by one.

"So, what now?" he asked, his voice quiet.

I glanced at him, not entirely sure what he meant. "What do you mean?"

"Now that we're stuck with each other," he said, his tone light but with an edge of something else. "Do we just keep pretending this is normal?"

I didn't have an answer for him. How could I? There was no easy way to make sense of what was happening between us. But sitting there, next to him, I realized something. Maybe we didn't need to have it all figured out. Maybe we could just take it one step at a time.

"I don't know," I admitted, "but maybe... maybe we can make it work. I don't know how, but we'll figure it out."

Patrick turned to look at me, his gaze softening. For a brief moment, I saw something in his eyes-something that felt like the beginning of understanding, the start of something that was more than just complicated family dynamics.

"Yeah," he said, a small smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "Maybe we will."

And as the night stretched on, with the air cool and the stars above us, I couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out okay. After all, we had each other. And that had to count for something, right?

---