Chapter 1

Sunlight sliced through the attic skylight like a knife, stabbing at my eyes and forcing me awake. My head felt like it had been run over by a truck, and every joint in my body screamed in protest.

When I tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through my lower back, snapping me into full consciousness.

Where the hell was I?

I blinked hard, trying to focus. This room... I knew this room. The sound equipment hanging from the ceiling, stacks of vinyl records in the corner, that beat-up guitar. This was Patrick's attic bedroom.

Oh God, no way.

I looked down at myself. Jesus Christ, I was wearing nothing but an oversized men's T-shirt—Patrick's T-shirt. My dress and bra were scattered across the floor, surrounded by empty beer bottles and party debris from last night.

Memories started flooding back in fragments. Last night's house show... I'd had way too much to drink... and then...

A flash hit me: Patrick's hand on my cheek, his lips pressed against mine, and me... me moaning "brother" in his arms.

"Fuck." I whispered the curse, feeling the world spin around me.

What did I do? What the fuck did I do?

I tried to piece together more details, but my brain only offered snapshots: heated kisses, tangled limbs, touches that made my face burn with embarrassment.

I remembered kissing him first, remembered saying things that now made me want to crawl into a hole and die.

Fanny, you idiot! He's your brother!

Technically, Patrick was my stepbrother, but we'd lived together for four years. He was like a real brother to me. And now... now this had happened between us.

I carefully slid off the bed, trying not to make any noise. My legs were still shaky—clearly last night's alcohol hadn't fully worn off. As I bent down to grab my clothes from the floor, Patrick suddenly rolled over.

I froze, holding my breath.

Just as I was about to continue getting dressed, Patrick's arm shot out and pulled me back onto the bed.

"No..." I protested quietly, but he was way stronger than me.

His eyes were half-open, clearly not fully awake, and he instinctively pulled me into his embrace. His chest was warm and solid, and I could feel his heartbeat and body heat. For a split second, I almost melted into that warmth.

"Baby, sleep a little longer..." he murmured in my ear, his voice rough with sleep.

My heart nearly exploded out of my chest. Baby? He called me baby?

But reality crashed back quickly. 'He thinks I'm someone else. He must think I'm his girlfriend.'

"Patrick..." I whispered his name, trying to push away from him.

"Mmm?" He tightened his hold, nuzzling into my hair. "Don't go, Fanny... we still have time..."

I went completely rigid. He... he knew I was Fanny? He knew he was holding me?

He said my name.

I felt dizzy, not sure if it was from the hangover or this realization. If he knew who I was, then last night... everything last night happened when we were both conscious?

But then he started talking in his sleep again: "I should tell you... should've told you how I feel sooner..."

I carefully extracted myself from his arms. Whatever he was saying now, when he really woke up, everything would change. He'd be disgusted and regretful about what happened last night.

I couldn't let him wake up and find me still here—that would make everything even more awkward.

I have to get out of here.

I quickly got dressed, my fingers trembling with nerves. While buttoning up my dress, I accidentally glanced at Patrick. He was frowning in his sleep, seemingly sensing the warmth beside him had left.

"I'm sorry, Patrick. This is all my fault."

I tiptoed toward the door, each step careful and deliberate, afraid of waking him. Just as my hand touched the doorknob, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

I looked back. Patrick's phone screen lit up, showing a new message.

I shouldn't look. I really shouldn't. But my eyes involuntarily drifted to the screen.

[Luna: Last night was amazing, when can we meet again?]

I felt like someone had punched me in the chest.

Luna. He had a girlfriend named Luna.

'Last night was amazing?' My brain went into overdrive. What did this message mean? Was she talking about the party, or... something else?

I thought about that pretty bass player from last night's show. She'd been hanging around Patrick all evening, and they seemed close. Was she Luna?

Of course. Everything suddenly became clear. Last night was just a drunken mistake for Patrick.

He had a girlfriend, they were probably dating, and I... I was just an accident, a choice he made while drunk because his real girlfriend wasn't around.

I felt sick. Not from the hangover, but from realizing what I'd done. I'd ruined our sibling relationship, and for him, it was probably just one night of indulgence.

I quietly opened the door and slipped out.

I tiptoed down the creaky attic stairs, each step a thunderclap in the silent house.

The old Victorian floorboards groaned under my weight, and I winced with every sound. All I could think about was getting to my room without anyone hearing me.

Four years of living in this house had made us real siblings. We ate breakfast together at the kitchen table, fought over the TV remote, complained about our parents' weird hippie decisions together.

Patrick taught me guitar in the living room, I wrote lyrics for him at the dining table. Our relationship was pure and beautiful.

And now I'd destroyed everything.

By the time I reached the second floor landing, I'd made my decision. I was going to pretend nothing happened. I'd act like we just got drunk together and I crashed on his couch. No kissing, no tangling, no touches that made my face burn.

This was the best solution. Protect our relationship, protect this family, and protect myself.

"Fanny?" Marina's voice drifted up from the kitchen below. "You're up early. Did you sleep okay?"

Shit. I froze on the stairs, realizing I'd have to face her before escaping to my room.

"Yeah," I called down, trying to make my voice sound normal, "just getting some water."

"There's fresh green tea if you want some. I'm heading to the yoga studio in a bit, and James has a meeting at the arts center. You'll have the house to yourself."

Perfect. I needed time to sort through my thoughts and prepare to face Patrick when he woke up.

"Thanks, Mom." I hurried the rest of the way to my room and shut the door behind me.

Finally. Safety.

I slid down against the door to sit on the floor. Everything from last night started replaying in my mind: Patrick's kiss, the touch of his fingers, my response in his arms...

Stop. Forget it. Pretend nothing happened.

But I knew that once certain things happen, you can never really forget them. And seeing Luna's text made me realize my feelings for Patrick were more complicated than I'd thought. It wasn't just sisterly dependence—it was a kind of... love that I didn't dare admit.

And this love was destined to bring nothing but pain.

I closed my eyes, trying to find inner peace. But I knew that we'd crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed, and I was the one who'd stepped over it.

Now I could only pray that Patrick wouldn't remember all the details from last night, and that we could go back to our old sibling relationship.