Copyright © by blackmatter.
All rights reserved. This story or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a review
.
If you're familiar with my work, then you know what to expect. If not, then:
- Brother/Sister love story
- Slow build up
Enjoy.
PS: I haven't given up on Off Limits.
*****
"On me, on me!" Skylar exclaimed, her fingers frantic on the PlayStation controller. "Damn! He's literally one shot."
Her teammates rushed in, one resuscitating her legend while another offered suppressive fire. Once she healed and recharged her shield, she jumped back into the hectic gunfire. She was on point today and absolutely the best player in the lobby, and seconds later, she carried her squad to an emphatic victory.
"Good shit," one teammate said gleefully.
"Dang, SkyFi, you really popped off," the other added.
She finished the match with eighteen kills and more than three-thousand in damage.
"Gg," Skylar replied, smiling contently at the glowing stats.
Her phone rang just then; it was her mother.
She picked up, almost trembling with anticipation.
"Hey, we're here. Can you please come down and lend us a hand?"
"Yeah, coming!"
Skylar bid her teammates goodbye and took off her headset. She bounded down the stairs, opening the front door just as her mother's Mercedes pulled over. She opened the passenger door for the young man.
Lucas held his right leg and helped it out of the car. He then maneuvered the rest of himself out with the help of his cane.
Skylar grinned, her big brown eyes glinting with mischief. "Bro."
"Brat," Lucas replied, smiling lovingly at his eighteen-year-old sister.
They laughed in harmony before Skyler pushed herself to her tiptoes and snaked her arms around his neck.
"God, you look so different," she murmured, holding him closely.
Supporting himself with his cane, Lucas simply smiled as he held her no less tightly.
Lucas' disability was nothing to fret about. He'd crashed his motorcycle a week ago and banged his knee pretty hard. He was told he should expect to be making full use of his right leg again in the ensuing months.
"I was so worried about you," his sister whispered as they embraced for a lengthy moment.
"I know."
"You go inside; I'll get your things."
"Thanks, Sky."
Skylar pulled the suitcase from the trunk and followed her mother and brother into the house.
Lucas hobbled in, his eyes sweeping over the lavish décor as if it were his first time there. "Home sweet home."
Skyler snorted inwardly, knowing the words were devoid of all meaning.
Suzan followed her son nervously as he examined the house. She ran her fingers in her shoulder-length hair, not quite sure what to do with her hands. "Sweetheart, are you hungry? Can I get you anything?"
"I'm good, Mom," Lucas responded, trying to reassure her with his smile however insincere.
"Are you sure? Because I can call that little Thai place you used to—"
"Mom, don't worry about it."
A defeated smile rose on her face. "Okay."
Lucas walked slowly around the house, lingering here and there as though he'd come to appraise the property. Suzan and Skylar watched tensely as he did.
After a minute or so, he gave a deep sigh. "Well, I think I'll go upstairs and take a nap."
"Sounds good, honey," Suzan blurted.
"Yeah, you go rest," Skyler chimed in, no less eagerly.
He bobbed his head, again, smiling that false smile of his, before he ascended the stairs.
Suzan breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the door close, and her daughter made a similarly relieved gesture with her eyes.
*
Lucas lay in his old bed, looking his old room over: the bookcase, the desk, and the bare walls painted white. He'd had no TV before he left, and there was no TV there now. He walked up to the large window. The backyard looked the same, and so did the deck. He returned to bed, battling the urge to escape the house. Before he knew it, his eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted into a fox's sleep.
It was two hours later when his sleep came to an abrupt end. He had a feeling that he was being watched.
"Hey," his sister greeted him with a crooked smile.
He gave a sigh, and his head plunged onto the pillow. "Hey."
"Sorry if I woke you."
He petted her arm, smiling. "Don't worry about it." He folded his pillow over and propped himself up against it. "How long have you been watching me?"
"Not long. Maybe five minutes."
"You must be bored out of your mind," he quipped.
"What can I say? I've missed you."
A gentle smile tugged at the corner of his lip. "I've missed you, too."
She ran her fingers in his light brown hair. He used to keep it short and neat, but now he'd allowed it to grow some. Skylar had never realized how beautifully wavy his hair was. Along with the blond highlights, it made his appearance vastly different. His left brow was pierced with a silver barbell; again, giving him a very different look. A bad-boy look. A rebellious look. No doubt, intentionally, she thought.
"So, how's everything?" Lucas asked while his sister absentmindedly curled his hair in her fingers.
"Good."
"Yeah?"
Skylar took a few minutes to fill in her brother about everything she'd been up to, such as working part-time as a hostess at a fine-dine restaurant.
"What about college?"
"Not for another year."
"I bet he took it well," Lucas said sardonically.
"Well, he definitely wasn't loving the idea, but... I mean..." Her face grew hot with discomfort. ".... you know, after what happened with you..."
She needed not go on. They both knew perfectly well what had happened.
Then again, what had really happened?
Lucas and Skylar's father was a top litigator, one of the best in the state. It wasn't uncommon to catch him on the news as he defended some hot-shot criminal in a publicized case. He was a difficult parent, more so in their youth. Firm, watchful, slightly intimidating at times even. He demanded academic excellence and was as strict as they get when it came to discipline.
Lucas had had it hard, Skylar knew, much harder than she ever did. Their father had been essentially grooming Lucas from the day he was born to take over the firm he had started well before he was even married. As a result, her brother hadn't had a particularly normal childhood, or a happy one for that matter.
His life had revolved around books and studying. If he didn't bring home straight A's, he'd be punished severely. He would lose his television rights or be grounded. The record was eight months. For eight months, he was not allowed to socialize, could not watch TV, could not interact with a computer, and his phone had been confiscated. The only company he was allowed to have was Skylar.
Lucas had played his part, too, Skylar knew. Even when he was given a relatively-mild punishment, he would just taunt their father until he was given a-far-worse one. Sometimes, he would punish himself on their father's behalf just to get a rise out of him.
It was horrible, their relationship, Skylar recalled. It all came down to a head when Lucas was in his senior year. That night, they'd had a massive fight over anything and everything. There was a lot of yelling and threatening, and something had snapped within her brother. He went up to his room, packed a bag, and stormed out of the house to never be seen again.
Oddly enough, Skylar had never been held to the same standards her brother was. She'd needed to get good grades, but even if she got the occasional B, or God forbid, a C, her father would look the other way. Same thing with discipline. She was rarely punished, no matter what she'd done, and she was given liberties Lucas had never gotten. She didn't want to admit it, but deep down she knew that their father loved her more than he did Lucas.
Over those two years, their mother had been helping Lucas keep his head afloat while he was living in God-knows-where a couple of states away. Skylar knew he'd been working for a moving company and sharing a rundown flat with a couple of roommates, but other than that, she realized she knew almost close to nothing about his life since he'd been gone.
She wasn't even aware he had obtained a motorcycle license or that he had one to his name, until the accident. That was when their mother had put her foot down. She'd talked their father into allowing Lucas to return home—no small feat considering their father declared Lucas dead the night he had left.
And that was the easy part. Skylar still had no idea how their mother coaxed her brother into coming back, though knowing her mother, there must have been a great deal of emotional blackmailing involved.
"Yeah, Mom," Lucas answered to the knock on the door.
His mother opened the door. "I ordered in. Feel like coming down to eat?"
That was the last thing Lucas felt like doing, but he couldn't take the pleading look on his mother's face. "Yeah, I'll come down."
"Great," his mother said, awash in relief. She then looked about his room. "By the way, if you're up for it, I thought maybe we could go out tomorrow and buy you a TV, like a really big one. And maybe a new compu—"
"No need; I'm good."
"No, you're not good! We're getting you a TV and a computer tomorrow."
Again, the look on his mother's face was hard to bear. He knew the guilt had been eating her up.
He nodded meekly. "Okay, Mom."
"Good," she sighed, appeased.
After a moment of hesitation, she walked in and kissed him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Skylar smiled tearfully as the two embraced. It felt so good to get her brother back.
"Okay," Suzan mumbled, softly sniffling. "Let's go eat."
*
The three sat at the dining table and enjoyed their meal. Both Suzan and Skylar made a point to keep the conversation as light as possible. They knew these were delicate days, and it would take some time until Lucas felt at home again, if ever.
Around 9, the front door opened, and the head of the family came in clad in a luxurious Italian suit. His steps faltered when he registered his son, the son he hadn't seen or talked to since that night some two years ago.
He came by the table, kissed his wife and daughter, and notified them he'd be in his den. Both women glanced at Lucas, gaging his reaction, as though he was a ticking time bomb, due to go off any second now.
But he didn't. He pulled his chair back, clasped his cane, and excused himself to his room, politely, and with no drama whatsoever.
