*Chapter One: The New Sister*
*POV: Aria*
I didn't cry when Mom told me we were moving in with her new husband.
I didn't slam any doors or beg her to think twice.
Because honestly, what was the point?
She'd already made up her mind. I saw it in her eyes — that soft, foolish light that came only when a man had promised her something close to love. I'd seen it before. I knew how it ended.
But this time, she said it was different.
This time, he was stable. Solid. A good man with a nice house and a grown son.
*A son.*
That was the part that stuck with me.
It clung to my thoughts as we drove across state lines in a stuffy old Camry packed with everything we owned. The closer we got to Black Pines, the smaller my life felt — like it was folding in on itself, tighter and tighter, until there'd be nothing left of me but silence.
"He's quiet," Mom had said about him. "Keeps to himself. You'll get along fine."
Sure.
Because that's how things always went when two strangers the same age were suddenly forced to live under the same roof — pretend siblings, overnight.
I hadn't even met him, and already I felt the distance between us stretching wide. A stranger I'd be expected to eat dinner with, pass in the hallway, maybe share a bathroom with. Someone I wasn't allowed to look at for too long or think about the wrong way.
Because he was off-limits.
Because he was my *stepbrother* now.
---
The house was bigger than I expected.
Clean lines, dark wood floors, and glass everywhere. It didn't feel like home. It felt like a magazine. Every room we passed felt untouched — like it had been designed, not lived in.
"Jace is upstairs," Mom said as she dropped her purse on a side table. "He might be in his room."
I nodded, gripping the strap of my bag tighter. "Should I… say hi?"
She smiled, too forced. "Maybe later. Give him time. He's not really the warm and fuzzy type."
I could've guessed that.
---
My room was at the end of the hall — pale walls, one window, a small desk. Neutral and forgettable. I dropped my bags and stood in the center, listening. Somewhere above, the floor creaked.
Curiosity tugged at me, uninvited.
*His room.*
He didn't reply.
---
Dinner that night was awkward.
Mr. Carter — or *Michael*, as he insisted I call him — tried to make conversation while Mom nervously filled the silence with questions Jace refused to answer.
He didn't look at me once.
But I felt him.
Even across the table, I could feel the tension buzzing beneath his skin. Like he was waiting for someone to snap first, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be him.
Afterward, he disappeared without a word.
Mom gave me a tired smile. "He'll warm up."
I doubted it.
---
Later that night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, fully aware that just down the hall, he was awake too. I hadn't heard him move, but I could feel it.
Something about him didn't sit right — like he was a spark waiting for the wrong breeze. The kind of person you couldn't figure out, but still kept trying to.
I told myself I didn't care.
Told myself it didn't matter.
But deep down, I already knew the truth.
Jace Carter was trouble.
And now, he lived down the hall.