Butterfly

by Jo Brenner

After all, she was the most beautiful girl I’d seen in my entire life. I wanted her more than I wanted anything. And I hated her for it.

If you didn’t have me, you could wear whatever you wanted, and anyone who said shit could eat shit. But you do have me, and I don’t want anyone looking at your ass. Or your legs. Not then, not now. These fuckers don’t deserve to see them.”

She was mine, and would only ever be mine, and all I fucking wanted was to get my mouth on her and find out what mine tasted like.

I had plans for my stepsister—the long-term, own-her-forever, lock her down with a ring and plant-fucking-babies in her kind of plans.

Leslie was fatherless and tetherless and oh-so-strong, and everything about her triggered a need to control, dominate, protect and nurture—something I’d never wanted with a girl or woman before. With anyone before. But with her… …with her…

“Butterfly, I’d learn how to pilot a rocket ship, if I thought it would make you happy.”

You want irrevocable? This became irrevocable the moment I saw you dancing at our parents’ wedding.”

“Man, you must really like this girl,” Matt commented from the couch. “Love her,”

This was my purpose. This was what I was supposed to be doing with my life—taking care of her.

I’d been patient, methodical, even asking Matt to smack me around a little to make myself look extra sympathetic.

I hadn’t set myself up as the most trustworthy guy, and I’d fix that going forward—but she also had to learn how to forgive me for doing fucked up things in the name of her happiness.

“You have no idea how much that killed me.” “Then why’d you do it?” she murmured. “Because I have one purpose in life, and that’s making you happy. Do you get it now, butterfly?”

At that moment, my heart—which had already wandered to the edge—tripped and fell off the cliff, falling down, down, down. I was in love with my stepbrother. I was going to hell.

You’re perfect to me, and nothing you do will ever change that. I need you. I’ve always needed you, since I first laid eyes on you. I love you, Leslie.”

“You’re thinking of sitcom love, romcom love. Antiseptic, perfect, not messy at all. Boring. That’s not real love, butterfly. When I say I love you, I mean the messy, dirty, dark, obsessive, can’t think about anything or anyone else, don’t care about anything else, kind. I’m in love with you, butterfly. That means I’ll do anything to make you happy, and safe, and mine. That might mean something else for another man, but the only man you’re getting is me, so the only kind of love you’re getting is mine.”