Chapter 1

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"You're old, you're hateful, and full of yourself if you think you can keep me from doing what I want to do! You are my brother, not my dad!" Monica York screamed at her brother as she left the room, slamming the door.

Weston York sat behind his home office desk staring at the door his younger sister had just slammed. He gritted his teeth, his breath hissing through them as he let it out slowly.

He was tired, tired of the battles and tired of being yelled at. This had become Monica's habit to try and get her way about everything and it was going to end because this time she wanted what he couldn't give her.

Their parents were deceased, and he'd been raising Monica since she was ten, now she was fifteen and he was thirty. So, no he wasn't their father, but he was as close to one as she was going to get!

The two of them had always gotten along well, until she turned fifteen six months ago. Then it was like a switch had been flipped and he was the reason she had problems!

Suddenly he was old and useless.

Suddenly he knew nothing and was only out to make her life miserable.

Suddenly he was the bad guy in her life who, since he wasn't her father, had no right to tell her, or make her, do anything!

Weston gave a sigh as he mumbled under his breath, "Fine, she doesn't want me to tell her what to do, I won't. I'm tired of her disrespect of me after all I've done for her for five years and I'm not going to put up with it any longer. So, I'll send her to live with Aunt Fergie!"

Aunt Fergie was a strange woman who Weston, through age and maturity, had learned to respect. Maybe she could do what Weston couldn't and get Monica to behave. He knew their aunt would make her work her tail off for every meal she got for showing disrespect, because she'd done it to him years ago when he'd gone and stayed with her.

**Flash Back**

"You may not like me Weston, and I really don't give a hoot, because my happiness doesn't revolve around your thoughts of me, but I will be respected. Since you thought it necessary to smart mouth me today though, you will have three horse stalls to clean. You have exactly two hours to do it in and if I like the way they look, I'll fix you dinner. If I don't like the way they look, you can fix your own meal," Aunt Fergie had told him.

"But, I don't know how to cook anything! Mom always does the cooking," Weston had whined.

Aunt Fergie had smirked, "You better clean those stalls really well then, hadn't you?"

**Flash Back Over**

Weston remembered thinking his aunt had been kidding. So, two hours later when she'd come to check on him, he'd been sitting on a hay bale petting the dog, the stalls only half clean.

His aunt had tutted at him as she shook her head in disappointment. Then she'd told him to have fun fixing his dinner because if he wasn't going to do his job, then she was under no obligation to do hers. He'd ended up eating a sandwich because that was all he knew how to fix.

Leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, he thought of all his hard work and how much he'd had to give up raising his sister. It wasn't so much that he minded it because he didn't, he loved Monica. It would be nice if she appreciated all he did, at least occasionally, and even gave him a thank you sometimes.

The death of their parents hadn't left them destitute or anything. With their death, the house had been paid in full, so they had a roof over their heads. His parents only debt was the new car dad had bought for his mom, but it was new enough it had sold easily.

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