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it.
    Oh well. That was definitely over now. I’d screwed it up, and now she was going to be my fucking stepsister.
    I guess it was actually pretty lucky that she’d blown me off, otherwise both our parents would have come looking for us and found their kids hooking up with each other in the pool. Now that’d be the definition of awkward.
    The other pressing reason why I wasn’t too happy at the moment was the fact that my Mom was getting married. Again. Hadn’t she been through enough when it came to men? She had the worst fucking taste in the entire universe. They all seemed nice at first, and then it always blew up in her face.
    My biological father had left her when she was only seven weeks pregnant with me. She hadn’t told me much about him over the years, other than that he’d seemed like a nice guy…until he wasn’t. The next guy was exactly the same. While trying to raise me as a single mother, she’d worked her ass off at a dead-end job, scrimping and saving to try and give me the best life possible, and when I was twelve she’d met Vince Marin, my first stepdad. I’d hoped he’d be the last.
    He’d seemed nice at first too; a respectable accountant with a daughter the same age as me. They were married within six months, and it only took that long for me to realize he was a total asshole. He wasn’t physically abusive, but he was sure as hell emotionally abusive. He treated his daughter, Amanda, like a princess, while at the same time he acted like I didn’t exist. He frequently berated my Mom, and on more than one occasion, she’d had to hold me back before I socked him in the fucking face. She’d always tearfully say that he was a nice guy deep down, but the way I saw it, he was a piece of shit.
    During my earlier teenage years, I’d lashed out and started smoking pot, drinking, and getting tattoos as part of some ridiculous rebellion. In my immature teen mind, I’d figured if I started acting out, she’d somehow come to her senses and realize that the way he was treating us both was awful.
    Of course that hadn’t worked, because he’d had his hooks right in her, and it had taken him cheating on her with his secretary to make her finally leave him. By then I’d already picked my grades up, applied for college and left to study, but I was still glad she’d finally broken free of him. I was glad I’d managed to break free of my rebellious mindset, too. It had been totally pathetic. I still did my fair share of drinking at college, but I was never going to touch a joint or a cigarette again, and I was staying the hell away from getting any more ink. The only way a tattoo gun was gonna go near me ever again was if I found something worth marking myself with. Until then, I was concentrating on graduating with the best damn grades possible and then getting into the best med school that I could.
    Everyone always assumed I’d chosen a study path that led to medicine because I wanted to help people. That was true, but only partially so. Sure, I wanted to help sick people and possibly advance the field of medicine, but the prospect of all that sweet money didn’t hurt either. Yes, that made me sound like a total dickwad, but let me explain. I didn’t want the money for myself. Hell no. I didn’t care if I was broke forever. I wanted the money for my Mom, so I could support her the same way she’d supported me all those years as a struggling single mother. Vince had helped her financially while they were married, but it had come at a high personal cost for her. I didn’t want her to ever rely on some prick of a man ever again. Not when I could help her instead.
    But now here she was, with yet another fiancé.
    Michael Williams sounded nice from what she’d briefly told me, and he looked like a nice guy, too. Apparently he was a lawyer-slash-activist, and I guess that made him at least somewhat of a decent person. But like I said earlier…they always seemed nice at first. Who knew what kinda