The boy, Christian Woods, was a golden boy, and his dad was now my mom’s husband. After two years of hiding a relationship with some man named Stephen Woods, my mom told me she would be marrying him in two months. My jaw had dropped at those words, the same as my heart. I hated change. Especially unexpected change.
My eyes darted away as Christian and his dad walked into the house, holding the large computer together. Once they walked past me, I decided to glare at Christian as he carefully walked up the stairs with his dad. Surprisingly, I hated Christian more than Stephen, even though Stephen was the reason why this change happened. For some reason, I just couldn’t stand Christian. Not at all due to his golden boy glory and intrusion of my life.
In a few minutes, Stephen and Christian walked back down the stairs. Once again, my eyes darted away so that I was looking at the ground. Neither of them deserved the idea of me even looking at them.
“Christian, you can take a break.” I heard Stephen say. “There’s not much left. I can finish up.”
“Are you sure dad?”
I heard Stephen’s boots thud in my direction, to where I stood near the front door. He was a large man made of all muscles and broad bones. You’d always know when he was around.
Before Stephen left the house, he suddenly said, “Hey Autumn.”
“Hi,” I muttered, only to be polite.
Stephen was a nice guy. He made my mom happy and he bought me things, so I didn’t really hate him. I hated what he did to my life, but I didn’t necessarily hate him.
Once Stephen left, I lifted my head up and watched him go to the moving truck. He was forty and still looking somewhat young with his neat black hair and lively features of bright blue eyes and a big, perfect smile. If I was my mom age, I might have seen what she saw in him.
Still watching him, I heard footsteps near me. There was only one person in the house right now, so I knew who it was. The very person I despised. The person who was causing the blood within my veins to boil.
“Autumn,” he said, sounding surprisingly gentle.
The way he spoke to me was always like that. Much to my annoyance, it seemed like he didn’t want to hurt me. It seemed like he thought I was some delicate little thing. That was one of the many reasons why I hated him.
“What?” I asked, looking at him to emphasize my annoyance.