Dirty Toe Drag by Toni Aleo

Chapter Five

Stella

I bitemy lip as I stare at my iPad screen, tapping my Apple Pen to the side of it. My phone is open to my list of all my favorite flavors that I’ve made in the past. But at the bottom are my ideas for my Harry Potter cupcakes. Since everyone does the same flavor combinations, I, of course, am including the popular ones.

Butterbeer, duh.

A chocolate ganache cake to hide the colored candies for the Sorting Hat.

Cinnamon-cream cheesecake with a golden cinnamon-sugar frosting to look like a Snitch.

I’ve drawn how I want each one to be designed and decorated. My butterbeer will be classic and sophisticated. The rich golden color will make mouths water within seconds. For my Sorting Hat, I will make the hat from the books out of modeling chocolate, but I also want to add edible glitter colors of all the houses along the frosting. I think it’s gonna look incredible. My Snitch one will shine in the case, I know it, and I can’t wait to make the little wings out of chocolate. Audrey will help since I’m still learning chocolate work.

I want something else, though. I tap my pen a little hard while I look around my bed. I have all the Harry Potter books out, the set my mom bought me when I was born. Since Aiden was such a huge fan growing up, he demanded that all us kids are too.

I’m pretty sure when Emery refused to read the books when she turned eleven, Aiden demanded she be banned from the family. And Emery, being Emery, refused even more and made sure to tell Aiden it was all bullshit anyway. He pushed harder for her to be kicked out, and I think that was the moment I realized Aiden wasn’t the favorite anymore.

Emery was—shit, she still is.

I know for damn sure my mom and dad love Asher and me, but we’re easy. Aiden is all perfect and showboating, the ideal older son, and Emery is a walking basket case, full of endless knowledge of how to kill and/or torture someone. So really, Asher and I could only turn out easy. I love Asher. Sometimes more than I love Aiden, but it’s because Asher was around. He played with us, always had a smile for us. He included us when he was older and would much rather hang with us than other teenagers. Now, I know it was probably to get closer to his wife, Ally, but I tell myself it’s because I’m such a delight. Asher was the one who actually got Emery to read the books. They would read them together, every night for two months.

Too bad, honestly. Maybe if Aiden had gotten Emery out of the family, no one would know she was ours. You know, for when she commits murder. I really don’t want to be Emery “Black Widow” Brooks’s sister. Yes, she has her murder name picked out. Yes, I am terrified.

Not surprised, though. Not at all. The best part will be my mom on the news.

“We thought it was a phase!”

I snort to myself as I look over the books, begging for some inspiration. As my eyes fall on the Goblet of Fire, it comes to me. A Death Eater Cupcake. I almost squeal in delight as I start to draw it up. It’ll be Slytherin-inspired, with the dark-green frosting, but a badass Dark Mark will be made out of chocolate and sit proudly in the frosting. Flavor…hmm. I could go with pumpkin, but I want something with a little bit more wow, I think. Ooh…or minty. Like an Andes candy chocolate cake with mint frosting. I might add some Baileys in there to give it a kick. Oh! I should do a Firewhisky cupcake! Dragons! Ooooh!

I do a little dance as all the flavors and designs hit me like crazy. I’m so excited, I’m shaking. I reach for my phone, texting Audrey.

Me: I am so excited. All the ideas are coming.

I send her a picture of my screen with all the designs, and she writes back quickly.

Auntie: Yes, queen! Fireball and Baileys? Are you an alcoholic? I can get you help… JKLOL!

Me: Hahahahaha, right? But for real, you like them?

Auntie: I LOVE THEM!

I squeal some more before I open my Instagram to mark this moment. I take a selfie of myself, grinning from ear to ear. Don’t care that my hair is a mess, that I have no makeup on, and that I’m wearing my thick white glasses. Nope. I am stoked. I put the photo in my stories and then write a caption.

When ideas are flowing, this girl is happy.

I hit Send, and I’m about to log off when I see a post from Wes. I draw in my brows at a towel covered in blood and the caption: Rough night. Picture to come when my face is at its gnarliest. I shiver. I saw the fight, and boy it was scary. But so hot. There is just something about men fighting on the ice that gets me going. I love the brutality of it. Shit…I sound like Emery. I tap the picture to “love” it and then write in the comments: Hope you’re okay. You won, IMO.

Before I can really think it over, I hit post. We’ve been playing this flirty back-and-forth for a while now, and while I would love to take it to the next level, I know it won’t happen. We’re on two very different roads. His is full of no-commitment fucking with anything that walks, while mine is full of fear and rejection for my career choice. And I have no time, nor do I really fancy whatsoever, to find a man to walk with me. Every time I try or even attempt to date or anything, I always find something wrong with the guy. No one is good enough, and when you have the examples of my dad, Aiden, and Asher, it’s a huge step up to that pedestal.

Wes must be on his phone because he likes my comment and writes back to it: Nothing I can’t handle…or a huge bag of ice. Thanks. I always win.

I don’t have the time to be turned on by Wes McMillan right now. But I do like his comment before I throw down my phone to ignore it. I go back to drawing, moving my pen along the screen to sketch the frosting of the Dragon Fire cake I’m thinking about. I want bright red colors, glitter, and maybe I can make a dragon. Yeah, I can do that. Hm. Perhaps I’m getting a little too ostentatious here.

Oh, who cares?

The grin on my face is unstoppable as I continue to design happily. I feel my phone vibrate, but I ignore it since I am so deep in my design. It’s well into the morning when the door to the bathroom creaks open and I see Emery peering at me. I close the page I’m working on, meeting her gaze. “Yes, Em?”

“What are you doing?

“Working.”

She nods, coming into the room, her blanket wrapped around her like a cloak. She looks a little spooked.

“You okay?”

She hesitates. “Are you busy?”

“Not at all,” I say, putting my iPad on my nightstand and scooting over. “Come on.”

She comes over quickly, crawling into my bed and snuggling into my side as I pick up my phone. “The last episode was super scary. The mom was so normal, and then something snapped and she killed everyone. Even the two-month-old. How do you kill a baby?”

Terror runs down my spine as I cuddle against her, holding up my phone to see all my messages from my design friends, all gushing that they can’t wait to see my creations. I know they’d be highly unimpressed when they realize it’s cupcakes. I kiss her forehead. “I don’t know, sis. That’s rough.”

“I know. I think I’m gonna stop watching that show for a bit.”

“That’s a good plan,” I say with relief in my voice, but then I see a message from Wes.

Before I can open it, though, Emery asks, “Can I sleep in here with you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Sorry if I interrupted your work.”

I wrap my arm around her shoulders, hugging her tightly. “No worries. I was done, just overanalyzing and fixing small things.”

“Were you designing?”

“I was.”

“A dress?”

“Yeah,” I lie, and she rubs her nose against my boob. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” she says with a grin in her voice. She knows I hate when she rubs her nose on me. Especially on my boob. Or lack of boob. How she has bigger boobs than me and she’s younger is downright rude, but whatever. I have ass for days. When she settles against me, I open the message from Wes, a grin coming across my lips.

Wes_McMillan: That smile. <3

StellaAnn: Show me yours.

Wes_McMillan: No way in hell. I’m a hot mess right now.

StellaAnn: I doubt it’s that bad.

Wes_McMillan: Since I don’t want to scare you away, I’ll wait to show you this mug.

My brow perks.

StellaAnn: Away? I didn’t know I was near.

Wes_McMillan: Unfortunately, you’re not.

Wes_McMillan: Though, that could change.

StellaAnn: Oh yeah?

Wes_McMillan: Yeah.

StellaAnn: Interesting.

Wes_McMillan: Is it?

StellaAnn: Yeah. But what do you mean? We chat but we don’t talk in person, so I’m unsure what you’re talking about.

When his chat bubble comes up, Emery shakes her head. “You’re ruthless.”

I smile. “Hey, can’t just let him think he can get it when he feels like it.”

“True, but you like him. A lot.”

My darling sister knows about Wes because she walked in on us making out. She’s got the biggest mouth, but even she knew telling Aiden would be bad for everyone. Surprisingly, she didn’t rat me out the way she’s ratted out Aiden and Asher.

Wes_McMillan: We talk. At the restaurant.

StellaAnn: Wow, what else did you type but decide not to send?

Wes_McMillan: Hey, give me a break. My face hurts.

StellaAnn: Never. You’re the one who slid into my DMs.

Wes_McMillan: Got me there. Listen, it’s complicated.

StellaAnn: What every girl wants to hear.

Wes_McMillan: Fine, tell me something. Do you think of me, past Instagram?

Yeah, but I’m not telling him that. “Don’t say yes. Even if you do, make him say it first,” Emery says from beside me.

“Excuse me, younger sister. I know how to talk to guys.”

“Sure, that’s why you have so many boyfriends.”

“Nope, I have admirers because no one can have me until they come up to my standards.”

“And Wes is that standard.”

I scoff. “Not yet, but he has potential.”

“I mean, he’s hot and all, but so are a lot of guys.”

I grin as I type and delete my next line. “I don’t know. I like the Viking look of him.”

“Viking?”

“Yeah, he reminds me of that guy from Vikings, the main dude. He looks wounded, like he’s been through some shit. Only pretty boys want me. Wes is rough.”

I feel Emery’s gaze on me, and when I look down at her, she says, “And you say I’m deranged.”

I give her a dull look. “Who’s in my bed?”

She snuggles close, grinning at me. “I’ll shut up now.”

I snort. “Sure,” I draw out as I look back to my phone.

StellaAnn: Maybe.

Wes_McMillan: Ha, now who deleted and sent a one-word answer.

I send the emoji of the girl raising her hand, and he sends me back a crying smiley face.

Wes_McMillan: Fine. Be all cryptic.

StellaAnn: Says the king of cryptic.

Wes_McMillan: I am not!

StellaAnn: You are. You ask me that but don’t even tell me if you think of me, past Instagram?

His next sentence comes so damn quickly, I get hot everywhere.

Wes_McMillan: I think of you past Instagram way more than I should admit.

A grin pulls at the corner of my mouth as my heart flutters. Emery snickers beside me.

“He’s cute.”

Yeah, he is.

StellaAnn: Hmm, interesting.

Wes_McMillan: That’s all I get? Interesting?

StellaAnn: I mean, I can’t show you all my cards, Wesley.

Wes_McMillan: Can you show me one?

I bite my lip as I stare at the screen, thinking over if I want to. If I do, it’s entertaining something that has no potential. I know this. He doesn’t want me the way I want him. I’m fun to flirt with, to slide into a DM for, but I’m not a relationship for him. I don’t even know if he can be in a relationship. Pretty sure that’s the damaged part of him that turns me on, but it also pisses me off.

But what the hell. I’ll play his game.

StellaAnn: Yeah.

Wes_McMillan: Yeah?

StellaAnn: Yeah.

Wes_McMillan: Elaborate, please?

StellaAnn: If I have to elaborate on “yeah” when you are the one asking the question, I may have to wonder how hard that dude hit you and then consider that maybe you didn’t win that fight.

More snickering from my sister as his chat bubble comes and goes. His response tickles my core.

Wes_McMillan: I totally lost the fight, but that four-letter word just made me feel like I won anyway.

I fight back my grin as I write him back.

StellaAnn: Goodnight, Wesley.

Wes_McMillan: Goodnight, gorgeous.

I put my phone on top of my iPad and cuddle down into my pillow beside my sister. I call out to Alexa to shut off the lights, and when my room is illuminated with my galaxy lights, I shut my eyes. But I can’t ignore that my lips don’t relax.

I’m smiling way too hard.

“You should give him a chance.”

I turn to find Emery looking at me, her eyes shining in the soft lighting. “If there is one thing I can ever teach you, Em, it’s to know your worth. I don’t want to be some mindless fuck for him. I want to be important.”

Her lips curve. “Anyone who looks at you knows you’re important. That’s not a question. It’s if they’re brave enough to potentially get their heart broken by you.”

I can’t hold back. “You’re my favorite.”

She leans into me, and I close my eyes. “You’re mine.”

And as my mind dances with thoughts of Wes and cupcakes, I slowly drift off to sleep.

With a grin on my face and my baby sister who got scared by her murder show in my arms.

Maybe there is hope for us both.