Clint stood on the front porch, his hands in his coat pockets. Though he couldn't have known I'd arrive at that exact moment, I wanted to believe he'd somehow sensed my approach and was waiting for me. Pulling into the gravel driveway, I tore my gaze from him long enough to study the house we'd inherited from our grandmother. It was a little more weathered and worn, with a dark shutter hanging askew, but mostly the same a...

I woke the next morning with a residue of shame clinging to me. Between my thighs was the evidence of my illicit lust, matted in the curls of my pubic hair. Longing for a shower, I grabbed clean clothes from my suitcase and then stepped out into the hall. The house had only one bathroom, which my brother was leaving at that moment. His hair was still damp from his shower. Along with jeans, he wore a long-sleeved shirt whi...

Though my desire didn't subside in the least, I was careful while lying at my brother's side. As minutes passed in comfortable silence, my self-restraint gave me a swell of satisfaction. I could be good for Clint. I could be appropriate. Finally, he said, "This morning, when you dropped your towel in front of me... it wasn't an accident, was it?" I froze, weighing the best response. "Maybe not," I admitted, unable to keep...

When I opened my eyes, I quickly realized I'd slept late once again, for I was alone in the bed. Extending my hand, I slid my palm over the sheet where Clint had lain beside me. The cotton no longer held the heat from his skin. In the quiet of the room, I heard the flood of warm air spilling from the vent. The power had come back on at some point. My sleep shirt was beneath the covers, near the bottom of the bed. I hurrie...

By that afternoon, the temperature was above freezing, and the sun's warmth succeeded in melting some of the ice that had fallen overnight. I'd finished clearing out the largest bedroom, but before I went to help Clint in the kitchen, I retrieved a dress I'd found among Gran's belongings. It was at least thirty years old and had been well cared for. I wondered when Gran would have had a chance to wear it. Maybe for a spec...

For the next several weeks, my life revolved around waiting to hear from my brother. I turned down offers to go out with Bo and other friends in order to stay home and wait by the phone. When Clint did call, our conversations tended to be brief; he made a point not to speak of what we'd shared at Gran's house, so I didn't, either. Though I told myself my growing worry was ridiculous and that Clint was simply being careful...

I was up before dawn, when the house was quiet and dark. Carrying my overnight bag, I walked gingerly past the closed door of the room where Clint and Millicent slept. In my other hand, I held a hastily scribbled note which read: Still feeling out of sorts after my headache, so I'm going home early. It was a lame excuse, but I had no other. At least, not one I could put in writing. After leaving the note on the kitchen ta...