Chapter 3

After a sleepless night, I woke up late the next morning. By the time I got downstairs, everyone was already having breakfast.

Samuel wasn’t there, probably out for work, but Mr. Gayle greeted me warmly, while Mommy Jenny gave me a look of disapproval.

“Jenny, sit down and have some breakfast,” Mr. Gayle said cheerfully.

I hadn’t even started eating when Hector piped up from across the table, “Hey, Sis. I heard your strawberry jam is amazing. I’d love to try it.”

Mommy Jenny beamed. “Oh, yes! Jenny is really good at making jam. Why don’t you go whip up a batch for Hector?”

I shot Hector a wary glance. The mischievous glint in his eyes told me he was up to no good.

But I was stuck. Reluctantly, I nodded and headed to the kitchen.

It wasn’t difficult to make, but it took time, and at least it gave me a break from sitting at the table with them.

I was halfway through the process when Hector strolled into the kitchen. He claimed he was there to “help,” but I knew better. He just wanted to bother me.

Pulling out a container of blueberries from the fridge, he smirked. “I heard you like these. I bought them just for you.”

Every time he called me sis, it felt like a trap.

He picked out a blueberry and held it up to my lips. “Go on, taste it.”

I instinctively took a step back, wary of his intentions.

Hector leaned in, his voice dropping lower. “What’s wrong? You don’t trust me?”

Then, in one swift motion, he pressed himself up behind me, trapping me against the counter.

“You...” I started, but he grabbed my hand, pulling me closer. “Show me how you do it, Sis. Maybe I’ll cook for my dad someday.”

He was too close. Way too close.

The kitchen was open, and the dining table was just across from us.

My mom must have heard the commotion because she chuckled from the other room. “Jenny, why don’t you show Hector how it’s done? It’s good to see siblings getting along so well!”

I nodded quickly, scooting forward to put some space between us, not wanting to make a scene.

I tried to tell him to step aside. “You can stand over there and watch.”

“I like it better from behind,” he whispered, stepping even closer until I was practically leaning over the counter.

My whole body tensed. This was getting way too out of hand.

Suddenly, Hector’s arm slipped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. “Careful, Sis. You don’t want to get hurt, do you?” he said in a low voice, his breath brushing against my ear.

I jumped, startled, and the spoon I was using to stir the jam fell into the pot with a clatter.

“Hector, you—” I began, trying to push him away, but his hands were already sliding lower, resting on my waist.

He didn’t seem to care that we were in plain view of the dining room, where my mom and Mr. Gayle were still having breakfast.

“Sis, you better hurry. If the jam burns, it’ll be ruined,” Hector teased, his voice low, as if this was all some kind of joke to him.

My hands shook as I grabbed the spoon again, trying to focus on stirring the pot. But with Hector standing so close, practically glued to me, it was impossible to think straight.

My free hand reached out to the counter, trying to find something to ground me as I felt Hector’s other hand wander dangerously close to the edge of my apron.

“Hector, stop,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “This isn’t funny.”

But he only chuckled softly. “You’re right. It’s not funny at all. It’s just fun.”

I grabbed his wrist, trying to stop him from moving any closer, but Hector only smirked, easily slipping his fingers from my grasp.

“Relax, Sis. You’re doing great,” he said, completely ignoring my protests.

My pulse quickened. I could feel the heat from the jam, the heat from his body pressing into mine. I was trapped between the stove and Hector, unable to move.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my mom and Mr. Gayle still chatting, oblivious to what was happening in the kitchen.

“Hector, please,” I pleaded softly, hoping no one would notice the panic in my voice.

But Hector only smiled, grabbing a blueberry from the nearby bowl and holding it up to my mouth again. “Here, eat this.”

Before I could say anything, he pushed the berry between my lips.

As soon as I bit down, the juice dribbled down my chin, and Hector’s grin widened. “See? Isn’t it sweet?”

I swallowed hard, the flavor of the blueberry barely registering over the pounding in my chest.

He lowered his voice, so quiet only I could hear. “You’re good at biting, aren’t you?”

A shiver ran down my spine, and I froze, unable to process what was happening.

Just then, I heard my mom call from the dining room. “Jenny, are you cold? Why are you shivering like that?