Chapter 1
The summer after my sixteenth birthday started off like any other. Grandpa Jean, as always, was up at the crack of dawn, puttering around his hardware store in town. Me? I liked to sleep in, especially on the weekends. But when I finally dragged myself out of bed that Saturday morning, I found a note on the kitchen table from Sandy, my aunt. “Dean, I’m at the gym. Back in an hour. There’s coffee.” I grunted in acknowledgment, poured myself a mug, and plopped down on the couch.
I had been living with Grandpa Jean since I was four years old, ever since the car accident that took my parents’ lives. He’d raised me ever since, along with Aunt Sandy when she was around. She had her own place now, but still dropped by regularly to check on us. I appreciated the thought, but I was used to fending for myself. Grandpa Jean worked a lot and wasn’t exactly the doting type.
He was probably at the hardware store, getting things in order before Sandy moved back in this week. After eight years of marriage, her husband Tony had cheated on her. She found out a month ago and they had a nasty divorce. Now she was back, single at 29, and moving back into the old room upstairs.
I sighed. It was going to be weird having her around all the time again. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my aunt. She was always there for me, the one who made sure I ate right, did my homework, chased away the nightmares after the accident. But I was a teenage boy now, not a little kid anymore. I valued my independence.
Just then, the front door opened and Aunt Sandy walked in, red-faced and glowing from her morning run. “Morning, sleepyhead,” she teased, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “Planning on getting out of those pajamas today?”
“Shut up,” I mumbled, taking another sip of coffee. She laughed and ruffled my hair as she passed by to head upstairs. I smirked into my mug. Okay, maybe having her around wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Later that evening, we all gathered around the dinner table—Grandpa Jean, Aunt Sandy, and me. It was the first time we’d all been together since she moved back in. The air was heavy with tension and unspoken words.
“So Sandy, how are you holding up?” Grandpa Jean asked, looking up from his plate. “Must be hard, moving back in with your old man and your nephew.”
Sandy sighed, setting down her fork. “It’s an adjustment, that’s for sure. But I’m just glad to have family around me right now.” She smiled wanly at me and Grandpa Jean.
I reached over and patted her hand. “We’re here for you, Aunt Sandy. No matter what.”
She blinked back tears and nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Dean. I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”
Grandpa Jean cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, Sandy, I think it’s time we had a little talk about your future.”
Sandy raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you can’t just mope around here forever,” Grandpa Jean said gruffly. “You’re young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Have you thought about what you want to do?”
Sandy’s eyes flashed with irritation. “I’m a photo editor, remember? That’s what I do for a living.”
“Yes, but that’s not enough,” Grandpa Jean pressed. “You need something more. A hobby, a passion.”
Sandy rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time for hobbies, Dad. I’m trying to put my life back together here.”
I couldn’t help but chime in. “Maybe you could try yoga again,” I suggested tentatively. “Remember how much you loved it when you were in high school? And it would help you stay in shape too.”
Sandy looked at me in surprise. “You remember that?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. And I’d be happy to join you sometime if you want.”
Sandy smiled softly. “I’d like that, Dean.”
Grandpa Jean nodded approvingly. “There you go then. Something to look forward to.”
As the days turned into weeks, Aunt Sandy and I fell into a routine. We’d go for runs together in the mornings before school and work, then meet up at the yoga studio after dinner. She’d taught me a few poses and I had to admit, it felt pretty good to be bendy.
We’d always end our workouts with her sitting cross-legged on the floor while I massaged her feet. It was my way of helping her relax and unwind after a long day.
“Mmm, that feels amazing,” Sandy would purr as I worked my thumbs into the arches of her feet. “You’ve got a real talent there, kid.”
I’d just grin and keep massaging, enjoying the sight of her closing her eyes in blissful relaxation. Those nights were my favorite—just the two of us, in our own little world.
But it wasn’t all yoga and massages. Aunt Sandy was also a huge football fan and taught me everything she knew about the game. We’d spend hours sprawled on the couch in our rattiest sweatpants, cheering on the home team and screaming at the refs.
One night, after a particularly exciting game, we were still amped up and giggling like idiots long after the final whistle had blown. Sandy flopped back against the cushions, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling with laughter.
“Oh my God, did you see that last play?” she gasped, wiping tears of mirth from her cheeks. “I can’t believe they didn’t call pass interference! The refs must have been blind!”
I was laughing so hard I could barely catch my breath. “I know, right? That was ridiculous!”
We dissolved into another fit of giggles, snorting and chortling until we were both gasping for air. When the laughter finally died down, Sandy turned to me with a warm smile.
“You know, I’m really glad I moved back here,” she said softly. “I missed this—hanging out with you, talking about nonsense. It feels like old times.”
I felt a surge of affection for my aunt and leaned over to give her a one-armed hug. “I missed it too. And hey, even though I’ll be graduating soon and heading off to college, we’ll still have game nights whenever I’m home.”
Sandy hugged me back tightly. “Deal,” she murmured into my shoulder.
As the weeks turned into months, Aunt Sandy started to come out of her shell more and more. She joined a local photography club and started taking pictures of everything from sunsets to stray cats. Grandpa Jean grumbled about her wasting time on “fancy artsy-fartsy stuff,” but I could tell he was secretly proud of her.
But it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. Every now and then, usually late at night when the house was quiet and everyone was asleep, I’d hear Aunt Sandy crying softly in her room. My heart would ache for her and I’d want nothing more than to go in there and hold her while she let it all out. But I never did—it didn’t feel right, somehow.
So instead, I’d just sit outside her door in the hallway, listening to her muffled sobs until they finally subsided into sniffles and soft snores. Then I’d slip back into my own room, knowing that no matter what happened, she’d always have me to lean on.
And then, one night about a year after she moved back in, everything changed.
It was New Year’s Eve and Grandpa Jean was throwing a big party at the house to celebrate Sandy’s final divorce decree being signed that day. Everyone was in high spirits—friends, family, even some of Grandpa Jean’s business associates.
Aunt Sandy looked radiant in a shimmery red dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. She had her hair down for once and it swung around her face in soft curls as she laughed and mingled with the crowd. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
As midnight approached, everyone started gathering around the TV to watch the ball drop in Times Square. Sandy pushed her way through the throng until she was standing next to me.
“Can you believe it’s finally over?” she said excitedly, bouncing on her toes. “No more Tony, no more lawyers, no more fighting over the dishes!”
I grinned down at her. “I’m so happy for you, Aunt Sandy. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”
She turned to me then, her eyes shining with emotion and something else I couldn’t quite place. Before I knew what was happening, she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine in a searing kiss.
I froze for a second, shocked beyond belief. Then slowly, hesitantly, I started to kiss her back. Her lips were soft and warm against mine and she tasted like champagne and hope.
When she finally pulled away, we were both panting and flushed. “Happy New Year,” she whispered breathlessly.
“Happy New Year,” I echoed hoarsely.
But then reality came crashing back in. What had we just done? She was my aunt! This couldn’t happen again. I shook my head dazedly.
“I…I need some air,” I stammered, pushing my way out of the crowd and into the backyard.
The cold night air hit me like a slap in the face as I gulped it down in deep lungfuls. My mind was reeling—what did this mean? What were we supposed to do now?
Lost in thought, I didn’t even hear Aunt Sandy slip outside behind me until she laid a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Dean?” Her voice was small and uncertain.
I spun around to face her, my heart hammering in my chest. “Aunt Sandy…that shouldn’t have happened.”
She looked stricken. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
We stood there awkwardly for a moment before she sighed heavily and looked down at the ground. “Maybe it’s best if I just go back inside.”
As she turned to leave, I felt a pang of panic in my chest. I couldn’t let her go like this—not without some kind of resolution.
“Aunt Sandy, wait.” She paused and looked back at me questioningly. “I…I don’t regret what happened. It’s just…it’s complicated.”
She studied my face for a long moment before nodding slowly. “I know. But we’ll figure it out—together.”
And with that promise hanging between us, she turned and went back inside, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts under the starlit sky.
Chapter 2
One year later in my College Apartment my phone rang at 2am, the shrill sound piercing through the darkness. Groggily, I walked into the kitchen picking it up.
“Dean, it’s Dad… he’s gone,” Sandy choked out, her voice heavy with sobs. My heart plummeted. I threw on some clothes and grabbed my keys, speeding the five-hour drive back home in a daze.
When I arrived, Sandy was a mess—red eyes, puffy face, trembling hands. I enveloped her in a hug as she dissolved into tears on my shoulder. “I’ll take care of everything,” I murmured, brushing her hair back gently.
Grandpa Jean had been prepared for this day. Funeral arrangements were neatly organized in a folder on his desk—casket, church, pallbearers, even the eulogy he wanted read. All I had to do was make a few calls and finalize the details. In a strange way, it was almost comforting to have a clear path forward.
The day of the funeral was crisp and sunny, the sky an impossible blue. A surprisingly large crowd gathered—Grandpa Jean had been well-loved in our small town. His hardware store had employed half the population at one point or another, and he’d been involved in every community initiative.
Marie, his girlfriend of a few years, wept openly as we lowered his casket into the ground. She was only sixty-three, with short silver hair and kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled. I gave her hand a squeeze as we walked back to the car.
The drive home was tense, Sandy quietly staring out the window, fingers twisting in her lap. At the house, I made us tea and we sat on the porch, watching the sun set over the fields. She turned to me, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I can’t stay here alone,” she whispered. “Please, let me come with you to your place.”
I hesitated, but seeing the desperate look in her eyes, I nodded. “Of course, Sandy. Let’s get your things.”
My apartment was small—one bedroom, galley kitchen, cramped living room. I dumped my duffel on the couch, intending to sleep there myself. But Sandy grabbed my arm as I went to grab some sheets. “Stay with me tonight,” she pleaded. “I don’t want to be alone.”
How could I say no? We climbed into bed together, her head on my chest as we stared up at the ceiling. I couldn’t stop my mind from racing—grief for Grandpa, fear for Sandy, and an undercurrent of something else. Something I couldn’t let myself name.
Hours passed, my thoughts a tangled web of emotion. Eventually, I felt Sandy stir against me. “Dean?” she whispered. I met her eyes in the darkness, heart pounding.
Suddenly, she was kissing me, hot and desperate. I froze for a split second before kissing her back, years of longing pouring out of me. Her hands slid under my shirt as she straddled my hips. I tangled my fingers in her hair as our tongues danced.
She pulled back after a long moment, breathing hard. “Don’t send me away,” she begged. “I need you.”
“I won’t,” I promised, cupping her face. “I’ll never leave you.”
And as she collapsed against me in tears, I knew things would never be the same. Grandpa Jean was gone, but something new had begun to blossom between Sandy and I. Someday, when the time was right, we would have to talk about it. But for now, all I wanted was to hold her close and let her grieve.
Chapter 3
The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the bedroom. I stirred awake, my senses gradually coming to life. The scent of her perfume lingered in the air, mixed with the faint aroma of last night’s dinner. As my eyes fluttered open, I found myself staring at the ceiling, my mind still foggy from sleep.
I turned my head slowly, my heart pounding in anticipation. There she was, curled up beside me, her face relaxed in peaceful slumber. My aunt Sandy. The woman who had become my rock, my confidante, and now… something more.
I reached out tentatively, my fingers brushing against her cheek. She stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips. I traced the contours of her face, marveling at her beauty. Her brown hair fell in soft waves, framing her delicate features. Her full lips, slightly parted, begged to be kissed.
She opened her eyes, her grey orbs meeting mine. For a moment, we simply stared at each other, the weight of last night hanging heavy in the air. Then, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Morning,” she whispered, her voice husky from sleep.
“Morning,” I replied, mirroring her smile. I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She responded eagerly, her hand coming up to cup my cheek. The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate, more urgent. Her tongue darted out, tracing the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. I obliged, our tongues tangling in a dance as old as time.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless. “Last night…” she began, her voice trailing off. “I know,” I finished for her. “I didn’t think… I mean, I wanted to, but I never imagined…”
She placed a finger on my lips, silencing me. “Shh,” she murmured. “We don’t have to talk about it now. Let’s just enjoy this moment.”
I nodded, pulling her into my arms. We lay there for a while, basking in the afterglow of our intimacy. The sun continued to rise, its rays streaming through the window, bathing us in a warm, golden light.
Eventually, hunger pangs reminded us that we needed sustenance. We reluctantly disentangled ourselves from each other and headed to the kitchen. I made coffee while Sandy rummaged through the fridge, pulling out eggs and bacon.
As we cooked and ate breakfast together, an unspoken understanding passed between us. It was as if an invisible barrier had been broken, allowing us to see each other in a new light. The dynamic of our relationship had shifted, and we both knew there was no going back.
Throughout the day, we found ourselves stealing glances at each other, our hands brushing against one another’s whenever we passed by. It was a constant reminder of our newfound connection, a spark that refused to be extinguished.
In the evening, we curled up on the couch together, watching a movie. Sandy’s head rested on my shoulder, her legs tucked under her. I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She snuggled into me, her hand resting on my chest.
As the movie played on, I found myself growing increasingly distracted. The feel of her body pressed against mine, the scent of her hair, the gentle rise and fall of her chest… it all served to heighten my desire. I wanted nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and make love to her right there on the couch.
But I held back. This was all so new, so fragile. I didn’t want to rush things and risk ruining what we had. So I contented myself with running my fingers through her hair, tracing patterns on her arm.
As the credits rolled, Sandy yawned and stretched, arching her back sensually. “I think I’m ready for bed,” she announced, standing up.
I followed suit, my heart hammering in my chest. We brushed our teeth side by side in the bathroom, stealing kisses in the mirror. Back in the bedroom, we undressed each other slowly, reverently.
I pulled back the covers, and we slid into bed together. Sandy curled up against me, her head resting on my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close.
“Dean?” she murmured, her breath warm against my skin.
“Yes?”
“I love you,” she whispered.
My heart swelled with emotion. “I love you too, Sandy,” I replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
We lay there for a while longer, simply holding each other. The events…