JULIAN'S POV
Her last message glowed on my phone screen like an accusation:
Don't run too far, Julian. I'm not done fighting for this. For us.
I sat at my desk at four in the morning, staring at those words until they burned into my brain.
Us.
She'd said us like we were something real. Something possible.
Like we weren't stepfather and stepdaughter playing with dynamite.
I should have shut down my phone. Should have packed for Toronto and gotten the hell out of this house before dawn. Should have done anything except what I actually did.
I read her message forty-seven times.
And I didn't respond because any words I sent would either be lies or dangerous truths, and I was drowning in both.
Morning light crept through my study windows. I hadn't slept. Hadn't even tried. How could I sleep knowing Avery was one floor above me, probably in those pajama shorts that made my brain shut down?
"Get it together," I muttered, scrubbing my hands over my face. "You're forty-three years old. Act like it."
But age meant nothing when it came to Avery Chen. She'd made me feel seventeen again—reckless and desperate and completely out of control.
I heard water running upstairs. She was awake.
My flight to Toronto left at noon. I just had to survive the next few hours without doing something catastrophic. Apologize professionally. Reestablish boundaries. Leave before I ruined everything.
Simple.
I changed clothes, rehearsing normal conversation in my head. Good morning. Sleep well? I'll be back next week. Let's talk then about appropriate boundaries.
Professional. Fatherly. Safe.
Then Avery walked into the kitchen.
She wore tiny pajama shorts and a white tank top, her long dark hair falling messy over her shoulders. No makeup. No bra.
I forgot how to breathe.
"Morning," she said softly, not quite meeting my eyes.
I managed a nod, gripping my coffee mug so hard I'm surprised it didn't shatter.
She moved past me to the coffee maker, and I caught her scent—something sweet and sleepy and uniquely Avery. My hands trembled.
"About last night," I started, forcing the words out. "I said things I shouldn't have—"
"Don't." She turned to face me, and the look in her dark eyes made my prepared speech evaporate. "Don't apologize for telling the truth."
"Avery, we can't—"
"Can't what? Feel things? Want things?" She stepped closer, and I backed against the counter like a coward. "You're running away to Toronto, but it won't change anything."
"It'll give us space. Time to think clearly."
"I am thinking clearly." Another step. "For the first time in six years, I'm finally being honest about what I want."
"You don't know what you want. You're twenty-three—"
"Stop using my age as an excuse." Her voice sharpened. "I'm not a child, Julian. I haven't been for a long time."
I knew that. God, did I know that. But acknowledging it out loud meant admitting I'd been watching her become a woman, noticing every change, wanting her more with each passing year.
"This is wrong," I said desperately.
"Says who? Society?" She laughed bitterly. "I don't care what people think."
"I care about your mother. I care about destroying this family."
"What family?" The question hit like a punch. "Mom's been in Milan for four months. Before that, she was in New York for three. She's never here, Julian. And when she is, you two barely talk. You live like roommates, not a married couple."
The truth of it stung because she was right. Diane and I had a comfortable arrangement, not a marriage. We were companions who shared a house and a tax return. There was respect but no passion. Affection but no fire.
Nothing like what burned between Avery and me.
"That doesn't make this right," I said weakly.
"No. But it makes it understandable." She was close enough now that I could feel her warmth. "We didn't plan this. We didn't want to feel this way. But we do. And running to Toronto won't change it."
I looked down at her—this fierce, beautiful woman who'd somehow become everything I shouldn't want and everything I couldn't have—and felt my carefully constructed walls cracking.
"I don't know how to fix this," I admitted.
"Maybe it doesn't need fixing. Maybe we just need to be honest."
"Honest about what? That I'm in love with my stepdaughter?" The words ripped out of me. "That I lie awake thinking about you? That seeing Derek touch you made me homicidal? That's not honesty, Avery. That's insanity."
Her breath caught. "You love me?"
Damn it. I'd said too much again.
"Forget I said that."
"No." Her hand pressed against my chest, right over my racing heart. "Say it again."
"Avery—"
"You admitted you wanted me. That you've wanted me for six years. But you've never said you loved me." Her eyes searched mine. "Say it again. Please."
I should have pushed her away. Should have left for my flight early. Should have done anything except cup her face in my hands and tell her the truth that would damn us both.
"I love you," I whispered. "I'm completely, desperately in love with you. And it's destroying me."
A tear slid down her cheek. "Julian—"
My phone rang, shattering the moment. I pulled back, breath ragged, and grabbed it.
Marcus. My law partner.
"I have to take this," I said roughly.
Avery stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself.
I answered. "Marcus."
"Where are you? We have the Morrison deposition in an hour and you're not here."
My brain scrambled. "What? That's not until Tuesday."
"Today is Tuesday, Julian. Are you okay? You sound like hell."
I'd lost track of days completely. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."
I hung up and looked at Avery. She looked as wrecked as I felt.
"I have to go. I forgot about a deposition."
She nodded silently.
I grabbed my briefcase, needing to escape before I did something unforgivable. But at the door, I stopped.
"When I get back from Toronto," I said without turning around, "we're going to talk about this properly. Set real boundaries. Figure out how to live in the same house without destroying each other."
"What if I don't want boundaries?"
I closed my eyes. "Then we're both in serious trouble."
I left before she could respond.
Marcus took one look at me and swore. "You look like death. What's going on?"
We were in his office, the deposition postponed because I'd been so scattered I'd mixed up my case files.
"Nothing. Just tired."
"Bull. I've known you for twenty years, Julian. You don't forget depositions. You don't show up looking like you've been hit by a truck. Talk to me."
I sat down heavily. "I can't."
"Is it Diane? Are you two having problems?"
If only it were that simple.
"It's complicated."
Marcus studied me with the sharp awareness that made him a brilliant lawyer. "Is there someone else?"
My silence was answer enough.
"Oh hell," Marcus breathed. "Who is she?"
I couldn't say it. Couldn't admit out loud what I'd done.
"Someone I have no right to want," I finally said.
"An affair?"
"No. I haven't touched her. Haven't crossed that line." Yet. "But I want to. God, Marcus, I want to so badly it's killing me."
"Then end it with Diane first. Be honest. Get a divorce. Then pursue this other woman properly."
"It's not that simple."
"Why not?"
Because she's my stepdaughter. Because she's twenty years younger than me. Because the world would call me a predator and destroy both our lives.
"It just isn't."
Marcus leaned back. "You're going to have to choose eventually. You can't keep living in limbo. It's not fair to anyone—not Diane, not this other woman, and definitely not you."
He was right. I knew he was right.
But how could I choose between doing the right thing and the only thing that made me feel alive?
My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
I opened it and my heart stopped.
It was a photo. Avery, standing in my study, holding up a piece of paper with messy handwriting:
You said you love me. I'm holding you to that.
Don't run too far. Because when you come back, we're finishing this conversation.
And this time, I won't let you push me away.
Below the message was her real phone number. The one I'd never let myself save because having direct access to her felt too dangerous.
I stared at that photo—at her defiant expression, at the challenge in her eyes—and realized something terrifying.
I wasn't strong enough to stay away from her.
Six years of control had crumbled in one night.
And Avery Chen had just declared war on every boundary I had left.
"Julian?" Marcus's voice seemed far away. "You okay? You just went pale."
I looked up at my best friend, and the truth sat heavy on my tongue.
I was in love with my stepdaughter.
And God help me, I didn't want to stop.