Whatever it was.
The games. The flirting. It was time to make a plan for him to move out as soon as he deployed so we could get on with our lives. I had four months until I graduated and received my trust, and they would be spent fully-clothed and respectable. If we had to act more like strangers than family, so be it.
But, of course, I checked my makeup before I went down the stairs. And my hair. And I wore a sweet little pair of panties I tried to convince myself matched my outfit.
You know, like how any girl would prepare to talk to her step-brother.
Zach hung out in the theater more often than should have been fair, but I let him have the room as I mostly occupied the library. Zach wasn’t watching TV or playing a video game. He laid in the dark and quiet, dressed in the t-shirt and shorts he used to work out.
He collapsed over the couch. His long, toned legs kicked out over the arm.
I hadn’t made an effort to hold a real conversation with him since the incident with the pool jet. I didn’t even know what to say.
Hey, sothat was better than drowning! Or maybe I don’t normally hump inanimate objects, but for you, I’ll make an exception.
I owed him an explanation. I knew we needed to hash it out like adults.
Hell, I probably should have thanked him for the mind-blowing orgasm.
Instead, I said the stupidest thing I could think of.
“Don’t sit on the furniture with your shoes on.”
Zach didn’t move his arm from over his eyes. He grunted and kicked the tennis shoes off his heels. One nudge of his legs dropped the shoe to the floor. The other he decided to launch into the nearby lamp.
“Oh, that’s great.” I stood the floor-lamp up, brushing the dust from the shade. Uh-oh. There was quite a bit. “Now we have boot-prints over everything.”
“Hire a maid.”
His voice muffled over his arm. He didn’t look at me while we talked. Fantastic.
“Do you really want a maid here?”
“Yep. And a personal chef. And a landscaper. What are you waiting for?”
“It’s…in the process,” I shrugged. “I have to figure out how my dad managed all this.”
“Easy. Open wallet. Pay butler. Let him oversee the estate.”
Couldn’t he see how weird that was for me? I wasn’t throwing money at a problem to make it go away.
…Unless it was him and the inheritance I planned to buy back.
That didn’t count. It was completely different.
“I haven’t decided on anything yet,” I said. “We can do something temporary.”
“Temporary?” Zach snorted. “You can’t take care of this house. It’s a full-time job, and you have the money to hire the army it needs to stay in shape.”
“But if I sell it—”
“Sell it?”
I flinched. “Well, yeah.”
He sat up. His profanity was a sharper bite than usual. “Why the fuck would you sell this place?”
He asked that question while sitting in one of the fifteen leather recliners and sofas positioned around an auditorium-styled room, complete with full-sized movie screen, projector, and arched buttresses decorating the ceiling.
“Because…it’s ridiculous?” I said. “Because I still get lost in the east wing? Because the upkeep on this place is insane?”
“You’re a billionaire,” he said. Then the asshole spelled it out for me, letter by letter. “This house is nothing to you. You should have two more like it in other places in the county, plus a vacation spot in the Maldives for kicks.”
“Don’t sass me.”
“This house is an estate. Size matters. It’s meant to be large and obscene.”
“You would know that best.”
He swore. Damn it. I waved a hand, collapsing on the chair beside him. He didn’t make room for me. In fact, he scowled.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean it.”
“I’ll take the compliment anyway.”
“I’m sure you would.” I picked at the couch. “I don’t know what I want to do with the money or the house. I mean, technically? I don’t even own it yet. His estate is paying for everything. My bank account has about five hundred dollars in it.”
“You’ll manage.”
“Probably. I did before. But this isn’t me. And I don’t think it’s you either.”
He snorted. “And so you can’t accept it? You can’t take the help?”
“It doesn’t feel right.”
“You’re crazy.”
I grimaced. “What do you care? You should be in the exact same spiral of shame that I am.”
He laughed. It wasn’t his normal, carefree chuckle. It almost sounded…angry.
“Please, Shay. Go ahead. I’ve heard it every day since I came here. Tell me why I should be ashamed of myself.”
“What the hell is wrong with you today?”
Zach groaned as he sat up. “I’m waiting to hear how I’ve fucked it up this time.”
“Why don’t you get it?” I asked. “How don’t you see that this inheritance is all bullshit?”
“It’s legal.” A grunt accompanied his words. “You want to screw me out of what an attorney said is rightfully mine? Be my guest. Find a judge who’ll side with you. We’ll get it over with.”
“I’m not talking about you!” I pushed from the couch only to pace the room. “For Christ’s sake, Zach. I’m talking about me. I got all this stuff—the house, the cars, the school, the billion freaking dollars—all from a man I didn’t know!”
“He was your father.”
“He was never a father to me. He ran around on my mom, left my family when I was a kid, and only checked in on my birthday and holidays to give me money. He never loved me. He tried to buy me off so he could have a life without me.”
“So? What’s the problem then?” Zach shrugged. “Take the bastard’s money. He screwed you over for twenty-one years. Least you can do is get what’s yours.”
I gave up. “You don’t understand it.”
“Then tell me.”
There was nothing to tell. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say anymore. I didn’t know what I wanted. Suddenly, an entire freaking estate was too damn small, and Zach’s presence entirely too big.
“Forget it.”
He called after me before I made it to the doorway.
“You make it seem like you’re the only one who lost someone.”
I stopped. His voice embittered, but I didn’t blame him. Not when he was absolutely right. He stood, gripping the couch with a trembling hand.
He didn’t look okay. Was he sick?
“Do you think you’re the only one who had a shitty parent? Think I wanted to be hauled house to house, date to date, man to man? You’ve never asked where my real father is.”
No, I hadn’t. “Where is he?”
“My mom said he was dead. A soldier. Died in Desert Storm.”
I swallowed. “Is that why you…?”
“Became a SEAL? Yeah. Felt like it was in my blood. Serve the country. Do some good.” He arched an eyebrow. “Except I’m twenty-four years old, and Desert Storm ended twenty-five years ago. Mom was never good at math.”
“Oh.” I softened my voice. “Did you ever find out who he was?”
“Don’t know. He was probably just some screw she had. She was good for fucking around like that. She tossed herself man-to-man looking for someone to take care of her. She married three times before shacking up with your dad.”
“Wow.”
“Six years ago, I came home from basic training and she tried to hide a black eye. I kicked my step-father’s ass from one side of the house to the other, but she defended him. Took her three more months of him beating on her before the money ran dry. I got her out of there, she met your dad, and the rest…” He shrugged. “At least he never hit her.”
“No. He wouldn’t have.”
Zach held my stare. “Don’t pretend like you’re some lost little lamb in the world. You want to feel guilty? Feel guilty. You want to feel sad you didn’t know him better? Fine. But don’t front a holier-than-thou attitude, Shay. I’m not in the mood.”