Chapter 8: Gina

I backed away to the kitchen, trying to calm down. Nina was my little sister. I thought she had plenty of time before she'd become interested in boys. Obviously, I was wrong. She must have been seeing him while I was at work. Lately I had been working extra hours, so she had plenty of opportunities to have him over.

I dragged my hand through my hair, hoping that my baby girl wasn't doing anything stupid. Over the past few months, I'd been considering going back to dating, but now I wasn't so sure it was a good idea. It was beyond scary that she had a boyfriend. I seriously needed to start spending more time with her. My life couldn't revolve around work alone.

Nina walked into the kitchen several seconds later.

"What the hell, Gina?" she shouted. "I thought you would at least knock?"

"Oh, no, young lady, you're not turning this around. You were not supposed to have a boy in your room. You're only sixteen years old," I said, raising my voice. I didn't intend to turn this into a fight, but she was wound up.

"I thought you weren't going to be home until late," she said, looking flustered. "And what I do in my room is none of your business!"

I couldn't believe she was talking to me like that. Where was the Nina I knew?

"I'm responsible for you, so of course I care, and it is my business. Besides, you should have told me about him, and what were you planning to do with him during my absence?" I shouted back, now losing control. This was unbelievable. Now I understood what was really going on with her.

"What, like I'm not old enough to have sex?" she questioned with that horrible tone of voice. I stared at her, astonished. "I know you have no life, but that doesn't mean I have to be the same."

"Nina, listen to me for a-"

"No, you're not my mother. I can do what I want. Now leave me the hell alone!" she shouted, cutting me off. Then she stormed away from me and slammed the door. I could have sworn the whole house shook. Moments later, the boy left her room. He gave me a weak smile and slid through the door before I could stop him. He looked much older than sixteen.

I was speechless, standing in that kitchen, wondering what happened to my baby sister. Okay, so I was almost thirty, and I'd never brought a man home, not even when I dated Dominic, but that was when she was still a child. I wasn't going to tolerate that kind of behaviour.

I thought that I was protecting them, but in the end, I might have harmed them.

Was I so pathetic that I hadn't had a proper date in years?

Moments later, Patrick strolled in, grinning from ear to ear.

"Did you know your sister has a boyfriend?" I questioned him, aware that my voice was still vibrating.

He shrugged his shoulders and picked up an apple from the bag. "Yeah, he's been hanging around here for the past few weeks. He's cool, though."

I widened my eyes at him, wondering what else was going on in this house during my absence. I had been nearly killing myself at work lately, so this was all my fault. Davies had been offering me extra hours, and I never turned more work down. I felt obligated to help when we were the busiest. I'd wanted to get promoted and earn a decent wage.

Nina was still young, and I knew she would realise sooner or later that men couldn't be trusted.

"And you didn't even think to tell me about it?" I asked. Josh must have known about it, too. He was much more responsible than Patrick.

My youngest brother shrugged again and stared at me like I had no idea what I was even talking about.

"No, I don't know what the big deal is. They're just sitting there, I guess," he said while chewing on his apple. "Anyway, what's for dinner? I'm starving."

I told him I would make pasta later, and shortly after that, he disappeared into his room. My head was spinning, and my day wasn't even over yet. I wiped the sweat off my forehead and opened a bottle of wine. Nina was right: I'd been concentrating on my job, on them, and I'd forgotten about myself.

Most men in my life came and went. They never wanted to stick around. In the beginning it was always great. They called and wanted to see me until I became unavailable. Dating wasn't easy with my schedule.

After I made dinner, Nina reappeared, but she didn't say a word to me. We ate in silence. I didn't want to stir yet another argument, but I had to talk to her tomorrow. Josh was working tonight, and he wasn't going to be home until late.

He sent me a text in the afternoon, apologising for standing me up last night at the boxing match. Apparently, his mate asked him to work on a classic car and Josh couldn't say no.

Around ten o'clock, I took a quick shower and went to bed. Unfortunately, an hour later, I was still fully awake. Nina had struck a nerve. She was right. I had no life. On top of that, I had the image of Mr. Erskine's arse in my head. Men were a tough subject for me, but I couldn't stop thinking about him. He called me beautiful, and his compliments made me feel good about myself. Was he just playing me?

I was very young when I first witnessed how my father had talked to my mother. Maybe my parents had been in love in the beginning, but I suspected that he never truly respected her.

It was early in the morning and my mother was running around, cooking breakfast for me and putting together an outfit for my father. He kept snapping at her, saying that the food was too salty, that his shirt wasn't ironed properly, and that she was always so useless. For about an hour, he kept comparing her to other wives and she never responded. I was kind of glad when he left for work. My mother looked so miserable, and I felt horrible knowing he treated her like that. I went and hugged her. It was one of those memories that stuck with me, and even then, I kept saying to myself that I never wanted that kind of life.

Mum was at home because Patrick had only just been born. My father had to work to provide for the family, and obviously he must have hated his job to be so miserable all the time. I never understood their relationship.

I kept tossing and turning in bed, feeling aroused. For a moment, I imagined Harry going down on me and pleasuring me. I started touching myself, hoping to relieve the pressure. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd had sex. It was probably a year or two ago. Obviously not a memorable event. The quick orgasm released some of the pressure, but it didn't take care of the bigger problem.

I knew I would have to see him again soon, and that was beyond petrifying.

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