Brandon's POV
It's been exactly a week since Dad brought her home.
Last Tuesday was golden—before she walked in and turned everything upside down. Ever since then, something in me has been burning, like a fuse waiting to blow. I don't even know why—but she reeks of trouble.
There's something about her I can't quite place, but whatever it is, I don't like it.
It was Games-Tuesday, and I was all set to meet up with the guys. That's when the door opened and she stepped in, Dad trailing behind her like a silent shadow.
She had these sharp green eyes and a wild mane of fiery red curls. Her clothes were easygoing—casual and tomboyish—but the way she held herself, quiet and unsure, clashed with the crooked smirk on her face. That smirk said mischief.
Something in me instantly bristled. Maybe it was the hair. Why did it have to be so red?
And of course, we all had to play nice. "Make her feel at home," Mum had said. "She's been through a lot—she needs love and care." I didn't get it.
I've been through a lot too, I mumbled to myself.
Just then, Mum called out for breakfast from downstairs. As I started heading down, my phone buzzed—Cassey.
Hey babe!
Her voice sparkled through the line.
"I'll come pick you up soon. Just need to eat first," I replied.
Cassey and I have been together for almost a year now. She heard about the new girl, and ever since, she's been on high alert. I get it—no girlfriend likes to hear her guy is living with some random chick. She's been calling nonstop. Not surprised she rang this morning.
I smirked to myself. She really doesn't have to worry. That girl? Totally not my type. Too quiet. Too nervous. And again—what's with that hair?
On my way to the kitchen, last night's tension with Mum flashed through my mind. Damn... need to dodge this talk. But it was already too late.
"Good morning, Mum," I said, trying to sound normal.
She turned, her eyes sharp. That look? It always hits differently. Cuts deep.
Panicking, I grabbed her hand before she could speak. "Mum," I whispered, looking right into her eyes. She looked back—her expression softened. Like she could hear everything I wasn't saying.
Then she touched my cheek gently.
"What are you so angry about, son?"
She nailed it. She always does. I didn't even know how she could still smile at me after last night. I expected rage. Not warmth.
She studied my face. "You're mad about something… or someone and it's definitely not Chloe."
That hit hard. My stomach dropped. Words failed. My lungs forgot how to breathe.
"Brandon, you've been distant long before she showed up. I don't know what's going on, but you'll have to talk eventually."
She knows.
Mum has always been in tune with me. Like she's got a radar locked on my emotions. No matter what I hide, she senses it. But this secret? She can't find out. It's too much. Even for me.
She gave my shoulder a light pat before turning to the sink. I watched her hands under the running water. Everything about her felt so familiar. So... safe.
She used to say I was the younger version of Dad. Same deep brown hair. Same smile. I used to beam every time she said it—and she knew. That's why she kept saying it.
Dad was my hero. My role model. But now? I don't know who he is. Or who I am. I'm just this chaotic mess dragging misery into every room I walk into. And Mum... she sees it now.
I should've been more careful. Shouldn't have let my anger show so clearly.
But what do I even say?
How do I tell her I saw Dad cheating on her?
When he brought Chloe home, I knew she was the perfect cover. Seth and Madison didn't like her either, so my resentment wouldn't raise eyebrows. It worked—until now.
I don't even know if I hate her or if I just hate... everything.
She's not the enemy. She never was. But I keep being cruel, and she doesn't deserve that.
Then I saw the plate on the table.
Waffles.
Waffles?
Damn, I've missed those. I've missed her.
Turns out it wasn't Chloe I was avoiding... it was Mum. And I couldn't even explain why.
Why me?
Why am I the one who has to carry this secret?
Why did Dad do this to us?
The noise in my head wouldn't stop. I looked up, and there she was—watching me. Like she was trying to pull the truth out of my eyes.
My chest tightened. I clenched my fist, stood up abruptly, and stormed out. Her voice followed me.
"Brandon, you didn't finish your food! Brandon—I haven't packed your lunch!"
I didn't look back.
As I reached the front door, I saw her—Chloe—leaning on the stairwell, talking to Seth. For a second, I wondered if Seth meant what he said last night.
After leaving Chloe's room, I tried sneaking back unnoticed. But Seth was waiting at my door, arms crossed, eyes filled with questions.
"What now?" I muttered as we walked into my room.
"I don't know why you skipped dinner, but this is getting too much," he said. "We're being way too harsh on that girl. I think I want to start being... nicer. Maybe you should too. You are the adult, right?"
His sarcasm stung, but I brushed it off. I wasn't buying his sudden sainthood.
But now? I'm not so sure. Maybe he really meant it.
Still, none of this mattered in that moment. I just needed to leave. I couldn't let Mum see me like this. Couldn't let her ask more questions.
She loves Dad too much.
And I can't be the one to break her heart.