Axton

The smell of burnt toast hit me before I even turned the corner into the kitchen.  

My mother was talking too loudly about something no one cared about. Probably her new yoga instructor or the overpriced juicer she absolutely had to have.  

I grabbed a clean glass from the cabinet and filled it with cold water, keeping my eyes down. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Corwin sat at the end of the table, flipping through emails on his tablet like he ran the country. He didn’t look up. He rarely did.  

Then I saw her.  

Nora.  

She was already seated across the table, a mug in her hand, legs crossed under the chair like she’d been there her whole life.  

Her eyes met mine the second I stepped in. Cold. Steady.  

She didn’t smile. Good. I wasn’t planning to, either.  

I took the seat farthest from her. My chair scraped slightly across the tile, loud in the quiet.  

“You’re up early,” my mother chirped, as if it wasn’t obvious.  

“Couldn’t sleep.” I didn’t offer more.  

Corwin’s eyes flicked up briefly. “You met Nora last night, didn’t you?”  

“If you call it that,” I muttered, taking a slow sip of water.  

I didn’t look at her.  

“She’s staying with us for a while,” my mother added, far too cheerful. “Try not to make her feel like an intruder.”  

I raised a brow at that but didn’t comment.  

An intruder? No one said she was. But if the shoe fits...  

I finally let myself glance across the table. She was still watching me, expression unreadable, like she was trying to figure me out. Good luck with that.  

“Is it always this... silent?” she asked, voice dry as the toast on her plate.  

“It’s early,” I said flatly. “And you’re new.”  

“Charming,” she muttered into her mug.  

I felt my mother’s foot nudge mine under the table. A warning.  

“Play nice,” she hissed.  

“I am,” I replied without breaking eye contact with Nora. “This is me being nice.”  

Nora didn’t spare a glance. In fact, the corner of her mouth curled upward, just a little. Not a smile. More like a challenge.  

It irritated me.  

She irritated me. 

I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for a stranger to drop into our house like a storyline from some sad reality show. Step-siblings. Please.  

And yet here she was. Sitting across from me. Acting like she didn’t care what I thought.  

Maybe she didn’t.  

But I wasn’t about to make her feel at home. That wasn’t my job.  

My mother cleared her throat, sensing the tension. “The seatings in the garden being cleaned this afternoon,” she said brightly. “Elise, our maid, already arrange the place. It should be ready by evening, if anyone wants to hang out.”  

“Sounds refreshing,” Corwin said, voice flat.  

“I might use it,” Nora said, her tone casual but deliberate. Like she wanted me to know she wasn’t going anywhere.  

I looked at her again. Really looked.  

Still nothing.  

But the truth was already worming its way in, and I hated it. She didn’t hold back. She didn’t fold.  

That wasn’t what I expected.  

And that made her a problem.