I don't Want a Step-Father!

Amelia’s POV

“Stepfather?! ” The word burst out from my mouth, my eyes huge as I looked at Mum and Collins, stunned silence filling the room. There was no doubt in my mind of the truth, but my heart was screaming of a lie, of it being impossible, it was completely insane, and then of a doubt, a niggling little voice that told me I knew Mum wasn’t lying. But I could not—would not—accept this to be true. This man, the one I’d been obsessed with for months, my savior – there, standing with his arm around my mother like he fit in? No way. It was just inconceivable to me, my chest tight with this incredibly strange sense of betrayal and something dangerously close to longing.

Collins approached, his brow furrowing, eyes darkening, his smile, soft and sweet. “Hello, Amelia,” he said in that soft, even voice of his. “Your mum spoke about you. You’re as gorgeous as she said. Just takes a bit, you know, getting used to the fact that your mum’s with someone else. If stepfather is a weird word for you to use when hearing about me, just call me her friend for the moment. What do you say?” His words were loving, but to me, they were a slap, each syllable scraping raw against my nerves. How could he be standing there, pretending we’d never met, that he hadn’t saved me that night?

I focused in on him, dismissing mum’s bewildered frown, and my voice was shaking with urgency. “You… you don’t know me? What makes you think I won’t?” I said, drawing a step closer to him, struggling to find any hint in his face that he knew me. “You mean to tell me you really don’t remember me?” My heart raced, my nerves frayed as I waited for him to confess, to tell me he had thought of me as well.

He frowned down at me, frustrated confusion brimming his fine featured face—sweat damp hair sticking to his forehead, long lashes coating those deep, dark eyes. “Amelia, should I know you?” he said in a cautious, almost apologetic tone. “I’m not even trying to be dismissive; I just.. . I’m lost here.” Hearing the sincerity in his voice was like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t lying. He didn’t remember. The man I loved, the one I had created in my own head, had no idea who I was. All of those months — of searching online, of haunting that alley, of hoping to dream of him — had been a fantasy. I had crushed on a ghost and now he was here, real, and Mum’s.

I took a step back, pain in my chest, the realization so heavy. There was something else, too: He hadn't saved me because he felt something, because I was special. But to him I was just another girl, another stand in. I raked my eyes over him — the unbuttoned shirt with a view of a chiseled six-pack, tan skin shimmering in the light of the living room, those lips I’d dreamed of. He was every bit the demi-god that was my type, but he was Mum’s.

“Amelia!” Mum’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts. “What’s with the questions? Why are you acting like he needs to know you? Are you trying to stoke trouble?” Her eyes sparked and her embarrassment crumpled into anger, and I received the cut of her rebuke like a lash.

“Trouble?” I chuckled, my lips stretching into a bitter grin. “Oh, I haven’t even started. I get home and my mom is getting plowed in the living room, and I could walk in any minute and here you introduce this guy as my stepfather? Husband? Are you kidding me? You’re shameless, Mum! You bring some man here without a second thought Like everything just gon’ be all right!” My voice went up, as pain threatened to break through and the image of Collins’s hands on her.

Slap! The noise rang out, sharp and painful, my cheek stinging where Mum’s hand had made contact. My ears were ringing, shock rendering me speechless for a second. She’d struck me before and didn’t bother with my “don’t hit” argument, because strict, no-nonsense Mum didn’t recognize “don’t hit” rules, but this time something in me ignited, and a rage surged through me that made the pain unbearable.

“You little brat!” she screamed, her face red, her eyes shining. “How dare you speak to me in that manner? Call me names? I can love who I love, marry who I want, and it's none of your goddamn business! If you don’t like it, then crawl back to your father, the deadbeat, you ungrateful bastard!”

Her words hurt, opening old wounds. Go back to Dad? The irony was laughable. “You’re the one who asked me to stay after you and Dad split!” I shot back, my voice cold, quivering with pain. “You cried, begged, had me hurting him to pick you. And for what? You never paid for my tuition, I never had nice things, never been there for me! You just party with your wild friends, chase men, or slave away at the clinic, and none of that money came my way. And now you need me to run to Dad so you can be the victim? Pathetic.”

Mum’s face contorted, her hand lifting again, but Collins seized her arm, his voice firm. “Becca, enough!” he snapped, his voice slicing through her anger. She stopped dead as she looked at him, and to my surprise she softened, sagging her shoulders. Even Dad couldn’t soothe her like that, and the casualness between them — the intimacy pierced through my heart. They were, they’re close, and it pained me in ways I could not bear.

Collins looked at me, his face soft yet unwavering. “Amelia, love,” he murmured, and my God, my name on his lips was paradise, a velvet stroke that made me weak at the knees. I hated that it got to me, that his voice was alluring, despite everything. He smiled when he saw I’d been staring at him and I blushed, embarrassed to be obvious about it. “I understand that this is a lot,” he added in a soothing voice. “I’m sorry this is happening like this. Your mum didn’t mean to say what she said—this is your home, don’t go away. But you were unkind, Amelia. Can you apologize to her?”

Apologize? It was a match to my anger. “Hurtful?” I laughed, sharp and bitter. “I don’t want a stepfather, Collins! You’re not my stepfather!” My voice was hoarse with defiance and I turned toward the door and my heart was beating fast. Mum’s cries and Collins’s voice calling for me followed, and I didn’t stop as I ran out of the apartment, the cool evening air rushing at my face like a splash of cold water.

And as I ran, the mad thought went around in my mind, wild and wrong but impossible to deny. He’s not going to become my father, he’ll be my man. I knew it was stupid, I knew I was spiraling, but the pain, the jealousy, the crush I’d been nursing for months wouldn’t quit. Only Collins wasn’t some guy, he was the one I’d dreamt of, and now he was Mum’s husband? I needed distance, needed to think, to breathe. But where could I go?