Temptation

Usual caveats. All editing and reviewing done by the author with Microsoft Word. Spelling is usually spot on. Australian / British English. Definitely the occasional typo. Grammar can be ropey at times, but it's been a long time since I sat in a classroom. All mistakes owned up to by the author. Please remember this is only fantasy and I'm an amateur.

Comments and feedback appreciated as always.

*****

"Honey, I'm home," I called out without thinking. It was only after I walked into the living room that it all came back to me. It was Wednesday. I'd slept alone in my bed since Sunday night after what happened during the weekend.

I'd been with my girlfriend for five years. Her name was Holly. We'd met at a café, one of those curious moments where she was looking for a table, asked if she could sit with me, and the rest was history. She was beautiful, intelligent, a heart full of kindness and, as I found out over the following weeks and months, incredibly loving.

She moved into my home after three years of dating, and the assumption was made by most people that I'd eventually propose, we'd get married, start a family and eventually grow old together. Now don't get me wrong, I did genuinely love her. But marrying her wouldn't have been fair on her. Having children and starting a family wouldn't have been the right thing to do. I loved her, but she deserved someone who could give them her entire heart, and that was something I couldn't do.

I would have been living a lie. Lying to myself, and in a way, lying to her. Vows I would have made would have been abandoned if the person I wanted above all finally gave me the green light, even after a decade and more of denying her feelings for me as much I lived with mine and just buried them as deep as possible.

Holly wasn't the one person I loved above all.

She wasn't my sister.

Although it was Holly who eventually pulled the pin on our relationship, growing weary of her family and our friends asking when I'd finally propose, she sat me down the previous Wednesday and asked, point blank, if I was ever going to propose to her.

"No," was my blunt reply, "I love you, Holly, but I have no interest in marrying you. And while that sounds harsh, and you might now believe I don't love you, I have no interest in marrying anyone. I am happy in our relationship, happy to live together, we share what I believe is a wonderful and loving relationship, but I don't see it necessary to get married to show our commitment to each other."

Everything I said was partially true. I was committed to her. But she wanted much more than I could give her. She slept in the spare bedroom that night, and when she arrived home from work on Thursday, she suggested it best I give her some space and that she was going to move out over the weekend.

"Holly, be honest with me and yourself..."

"Like you've been honest with me?" she retorted.

I smiled at her as, well, she was right. She just didn't know how right she was. "I have been honest about all my feelings. I understand why you want to move out and for me to 'give you space'. But let's be honest about what's really happening. There's no such thing as taking a break during a relationship. You're breaking up with me."

"Is it what you want?" she asked.

"What I want doesn't matter if you want to break up with me, Holly."

She met my eyes, and I could see the turmoil. Was she prepared to pull the pin on five years together? Thing is that many people are willing to stay in unhappy relationships and marriages due to the time already spent together. 'Sunk cost fallacy' is what they call it. Some people just need to let shit go, or get out miserable relationships, because everyone would feel better about it in the end.

"I think it's best if we just go our separate ways," she finally said. I heard the sadness in her tone. I had a feeling she didn't exactly want to break up with me, but she was also happy, and wanted more from me than I was willing to give her. "I want marriage and children, Mark. And if you're not willing to give me that then I guess I need to find a man who will."

I actually helped her move out over the weekend. It was mostly just boxes and cases of her things, and I let her take any personal items she'd bought for the house as I wasn't going to be a dickhead or cruel to her. This was an amicable break-up, or at least as amicable as possible considering the circumstances. Her father and mother offered to pick her up as she was temporarily moving back with them. Neither of them was particularly happy with me, but Holly at least wouldn't hear of them talking too negatively about me.

But, with a final hug by the car, I watched her get into the back of the car and she was driven away, out of my life. I would assume forever as I didn't think we'd keep in touch for too much longer.

Word spread quickly and I was inundated with messages from around midday on Sunday. I ignored most of them as some messages simply asked 'Why?', others offered support, but the expected negative messages arrived, mostly from Holly's friends. I have no idea what she told them. No doubt a version of the truth, enough to suggest that I was a bastard for stringing her along or something.

So that meant the house was quiet and felt a little emptier than it had for the past couple of years. I wasn't going to let it get me down though. I still had friends to hang out with, and I already had plans for that weekend, a night out with 'the boys'. My parents were offering to come around to keep me company, assuming I was heartbroken, and no doubt depressed. But while I was feeling sad, I knew we'd done the right thing.

The one person I didn't hear a word from was my sister. That wasn't a real surprise. Communication between the pair of us had been sparse for over a decade for good reason. Only she knew about my feelings for her, as much as I knew her feelings about me. If anyone else found out about our feelings, and what we'd done, we'd be sent to therapy, thrown in jail, disowned... Pretty much ostracised by all our friends and family.

Over the next few months, my friends did their best to make me feel better. I spent time with my parents, who naturally worried about their son who was now single again in his thirties. Given the fraught relationship I'd had with them, I was surprised they were so worried. Sure, I had a great career, owned my own house, had a fantastic car, a great group of friends, but apparently being single and childless at my age was a real problem to many people.

"Any word from Holly?" my best friend, Jim, asked over beers one evening after work.

"We don't really speak or message as our relationship is over. I've heard word from one of her friends, who remained friendly with me, that she did start dating a new guy in the past couple of months."

"Any problem with that?"

"Why would I have a problem with it? We broke up and she's moving on."

"Well, Linda suggested that she suggested just giving you space, not actually breaking up. From what Holly told her, you suggested a break-up instead."

"I just put a label on what she actually wanted. As soon as she moved out, that was always going to be the end of our relationship. It was going to happen sooner or later."

"Not tempted to dip your toe back in the dating pool?"

"Not particularly. I'm focusing on my career, I've returned to the gym and have started looking playing sport again, and I'm just doing what I want to do. And before anyone asks, no, I'm not lonely."

"You have a dog and a cat, Mark."

"I take the dog for a walk and the cat is surprisingly friendly."

"Holly didn't want to take the cat?"

"Her parents don't like them, so she let me keep her."

It was perhaps six months or a little longer when the doorbell rang one evening. It was rather late at night. Had me wondering who could possibly be visiting. Checking the time, Australia isn't somewhere you'd answer the door late at night armed, but I still kept a cricket bat handy should it be a couple of ruffians knocking on my door with ill intent.

Checking the peephole, I pulled my eye back and took a couple of deep beaths before I unlocked and opened the door.

"Hi," Beth stated softly, curling some hair behind her ear, "I know it's late..."

I couldn't really see her in the darkness, but I recognised the voice. Even in the darkness, I recognised her silhouette. "What are you doing here, Beth?"

That's when I turned on the porch light, illuminating her gorgeous face. She tried to smile, but the marks on her cheek, and the forming bruise around her eyes, told me everything. Offering my hand, her soft hand was easily enveloped by my larger one, gently pulling her inside, using my other hand to shut the door as she buried herself into my chest.

When she started to shake, I knew she was crying. "Bags are in the car," she whispered, "I didn't know where to go."

"How often, Beth?"

"It wasn't the first time," she replied, feeling her body wracked by sobbing, "But tonight was the last time he would ever touch me."

"You shouldn't have stayed after the first. You shouldn't..."

"Just hold me, Mark."

I did just that, holding my sister in my arms for the first time in what felt like years. For the longest time, we'd kept our distance. Birthdays, holidays, Christmas... Our parents wondered why we were distant. I received plenty of questions. I figured Beth did too. "Sorry, didn't mean to sound like I was blaming you," I finally said.

"You weren't. You've always looked after me, even though I'm older."

Guiding her to the living room, I sat her down and took her car keys, opening the boot of her car once outside to find a suitcase and a couple of smaller bags. I knew her leaving wouldn't actually be a problem. Like me, she'd never married. But while I'd been with Holly for five years and had been in two other long-term relationships before that, Beth's track record wasn't great. Her now new ex-boyfriend was a string of idiots, dickheads and sometimes abusive partners she'd found herself with.

Dropping all her things in only spare bedroom, the house having three with the other spare bedroom a home office, I walked back to my living room to find her already curled up in a ball, head resting on a cushion, holding another one to her chest. Getting onto my knees in front of her, I ran the back of my fingers along her cheek. She was hiding the bruise of her other one with the cushion.

"I couldn't go to our parents," she whispered, "I felt safer here with you."

"Stay as long as you want, Beth."

"Can you handle that, Mark?"

I heard the concern in her tone. We hadn't been alone in a room for a long time. The moment I'd laid eyes on her, long dormant feelings were already ready to explode, and looking into her eyes, I knew she was already feeling the same way. The magnetism between us was near overwhelming at times.

"I can handle it, Beth. You're my sister, you're hurting, and it's my role as your brother to comfort you."

"Where am I sleeping?"

"Not with me," I replied, adding humour to my voice.

"What if I need my brother to cuddle me tonight?"

I relented immediately. "Need a drink first?"

"No. I just want to go to sleep."

"I'll call work in the morning and let them know I'll be home for a couple of days. As long as I sign into my laptop in the home office, it'll be fine."

I sat with her until she was ready to stand up, offering my hand again, leading her to my bedroom. As I stripped off down to my underwear, I turned back to her and watched her eyes look me up and down. She wouldn't have seen me in just my underwear. Turning around, I asked if she was okay, hearing her yell out that she was just changing.

I was in bed when she returned, wearing a pair of tiny shorts and a tight t-shirt. Smiling demurely as she slid under the covers, I had to keep my mind blank as her hand immediately moved across my chest as she snuggled next to me. "Thank you," she whispered, "I just needed to feel loved tonight."

"Beth..."

Within seconds, I felt hot tears landing on my shoulder as I wrapped my arm tighter around her. "I know you still love me, Mark. It's been obvious since the day I..."

Kissing her forehead ended what she was going to say as it was ancient history. But I knew we still carried the heartache even over fifteen years later. At the time, I hadn't understood, and although I loved her deeply, I also hated her for a long time for what she did to us.

"Never stopped loving you, Beth..."

"And I never stopped loving you, Mark..."

She fell asleep long before I did. Far too long since we'd shared a bed. Far too long since we'd shared our feelings of deep love for each other. We didn't just love each other like siblings. We were in love. Had been in love for most of our lives. In a way, I guess it was always going to turn physical. That magnetism was impossible to ignore.

Now that she was with me again, feeling safe in my arms, maybe soon, sometime near in the future, we could have a conversation that would undo the result of the last heart to heart conversation we'd had, that had enjoyed our previously incredibly close and intimate relationship.

*****

My older sister was born fifteen months before I was. Christened Elizabeth, from a very early age, she'd been known as Beth. No-one called her Liz, not unless they wanted their head bitten off, and that was from a very young age. Obviously, I don't remember too much from my childhood, but apparently from a very young age, my older sister doted on me.

Beth took after our mother. Golden blonde locks. Gorgeous blue eyes. A button nose and faint dimples. From an early age, she had to wear glasses, changing her look as the years passed by. Our parents always said we were incredibly close, particularly once I started primary school. Unlike many other siblings, Beth loved hanging around me at school. Whenever I find myself reminiscing, we spent nearly all our time together at school and then at home.

What brought us even closer when I was ten years old was when our mother gave birth again. The issue that caused Beth and I to get closer, and pretty much lean each other on support, was the fact our mother gave birth to triplets. Our parents had explained to us the situation while she was pregnant, and there were words about how our lives wouldn't change too much, and that we'd still be given all the love and affection we'd always received.

Within a few months of the birth, those promises were found to be very empty.

Beth and I were still fed, clothed, and our parents made sure they did the bare minimum for us, but as our younger siblings developed, there were other problems which resulted in nearly all their attention being focused on them. By the time I was fourteen, my sister fifteen, we were literally just two other kids who happened to live in the house.

Going through puberty at the same time was interesting, but with all the changes inside and outside our bodies, it was again a case of supporting ourselves. With everything going on with the triplets, aware there were behavioural and development problems with two of them, and even our young minds did understand to a degree, ignored birthdays, anniversaries, reports, anything to do with our schooling or outside activities, and don't even get us started with Christmas, it was little wonder that my sister and I started to resent living at home.

More than once, we raised the situation with our grandparents, both maternal and paternal, but although sympathetic and understanding, none of them particularly wanted a pair of hormonal teenagers in their empty nest.

That left Beth and I to rely each on other totally. As soon as she was able, she took on a part-time job. I did the same thing. Our parents barely gave us enough money to survive, the only time seeming to remember we were around regarding the dishing out of chores, so having part-time jobs meant less time spent at home.

All day at school, working most evenings for a few hours, and activities on the weekend resulted in both of us rarely being at home except to sleep. We worked at the same supermarket, Beth as a cashier, while I worked in the stockroom and stacked shelves. On a weekend, I'd go watch her play netball in the morning and she'd come cheer for me playing rugby league in the afternoon.

For my sixteenth birthday, my parents didn't even remember the day. Our grandparents did remember, at least, and showed up to give me a few presents. My sister saved up and bought me a second-hand laptop, something I was desperate for as I preferred typing to writing my notes at school. She also gave me something else I'd always treasure.

She was my first true kiss.

It all started innocently enough. We were in my room playing games on a console I'd bought off a friend for a few bucks as he'd received a newer version. I barely realised my now seventeen-year-old sister was looking at me until I realised her half of the screen wasn't moving. Pausing the game, I turned to see her smiling at me.

"Mark... I know you've had a girlfriend or two, but did you ever get a proper kiss?"

"No," I replied, feeling my cheeks grow warm.

"Would you... Would you like me to be your first kiss?"

I already knew I was in love with my sister, and with that question, wondered if she felt the same way. Gazing into her blue eyes, I knew she was completely serious about her offer. "Are you sure?"

When she nodded rather eagerly, we leaned forward, and our lips met for the first time. When I realised neither of us really seemed to know what we were doing, I had to lean back slightly, noticing her cheeks were rather coloured as well. "You're my first too, Mark," she whispered, "I love my little brother so much."

"I love my older sister just as much," I whispered back.

"Beth and Mark against the world." Taking my hands in hers, she held them tightly. "Sometimes, I really feel like that. Mum and Dad are... I don't blame them when I think about it. Their lives are now so difficult, but we've been ignored for so long."

"Feel the same way. I've talked to the school counsellor. She apparently invited our parents to go talk but she never heard back from them."

"I can't remember the last time they hugged either of us," she managed to say before she started to cry. Within seconds, my sister was clutching me tightly as she sobbed into my chest. I just about kept a lid on my emotions. I wasn't ready to cry, I was incensed that my sister was crying into my chest, completely heartbroken.

But I also knew trying to talk to either of them would be like talking to a brick wall. We'd long accepted that this was our life, and that the best thing we could do was get out of the house as soon as possible. Though they didn't particularly want teenagers going through puberty with them, our grandparents on both sides had suggested a temporary solution if we continued our studies into university. "You'll be young adults by then," our maternal grandfather stated one night when we were over for dinner, "You're both already incredibly responsible people, going to school, going to work to make money, keep active. You have no idea how proud the four of us are. We can also understand how you might feel about your parents. We just don't hope you don't hate them."

"We don't hate them, Pa," I replied, my sister taking my hand and nodding her agreement, "But we can't help feeling resentful that, since their birth, we've been pushed to the side. We're still their children too."

"I've read about this sort of thing online," our grandmother explained, "I've tried talk to your parents more than once about what they're doing, but they're just not capable or unwilling to listen. We understand some of the difficulties..."

"It's why we've stepped in when we could," our grandfather continued, "But taking you out of your home never felt right."