Step-Lover Page 8

  “H-h-h-how dare you?” I scream.

  Jack flinches. “Sweetheart, you were having nightmares . . .”

  “You don’t have any right,” I screech, gasping for air.

  “Dad, she’s panicking,” Blade says.

  They take a step towards me but I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it.

  “You don’t understand; none of you understand. It’s my place,” I bellow. “It’s my place to tell that story.”

  My eyes turn to Blade and I see it . . . I see something I never wanted to see from him. Pity. Sympathy. He feels sorry for me. I don’t want him to feel sorry for me; I don’t want him to suddenly change because he’s too scared to be an asshole to me. I don’t want that. I never wanted that.

  “I don’t tell people because of this,” I cry, waving my arms around. “I don’t want your fucking pity, god dammit.”

  I turn and rush towards the door. “Don’t follow me,” I cry loudly, pained and broken.

  I tumble out and trip down the steps, landing on my hands and knees at the bottom. Too much. It’s too much. I push to my feet quickly and stumble forward. Then I start running, I run so far and so fast that when I look back, I can’t even see the house anymore. I find an old, fallen tree and drop down, panting. Tears stream down my face. God dammit, when will this get easier?

  It has to . . . right?

  ~*~*~*~

  My head is dropped, so I don’t see him approach. I merely feel his presence as he sits down beside me. I expect it to be Jack, but when I open my eyes I’m shocked. It’s not Jack, or even Blade . . . it’s Brody. I blink a few times, quite shocked. He’s the last person I expected to find me. I don’t even know why he did. He barely speaks, barely shows emotion and yet here he is.

  “I know how it feels.”

  I turn to him, blinking my burning, dry eyes. I’ve cried so much there’s nothing left.

  “Y-y-you do?”

  He nods, and reaches into his jacket. He pulls out a flask and opens it. He takes a long drink, and then hands it to me. I do the same, swallowing down the burning liquid.

  Then he tells me his story.

  “I was dating a girl when I was eighteen. We’d been together for two years. I loved her, but she had a hard life. She suffered from severe depression because her mom died from cancer two years earlier. She put on a brave face, but she was a girl in need of some serious help. I stood by her side because I cared. When I turned eighteen, things started going south. She became distant and fought me more than she loved me.”

  He stops and takes another sip. I do too.

  “I was eighteen,” he mutters. “I didn’t have the maturity to handle it. I was young; I wanted to enjoy my life. She wouldn’t let me in. I’d stood by her for two long years but she wouldn’t let me in. She was sinking. I tried to get her help, I went to therapy with her, I lost all my friends to stand by her side—I did everything I could to make things better for her.”

  I take another sip this time, because I have a feeling this story is going to be horrible.

  “She pulled back and I couldn’t get through. She was partying hard, so hard I spent more time dragging her home vomiting than I did just enjoying her. She refused to let me in, and eventually I just couldn’t take it anymore. I broke it off with her. Things were rocky after that; she didn’t take it well. I still followed her, tried to help her, because I felt guilty.”

  God. It wasn’t his fault.

  “But I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life doing that. It wasn’t fun. I was young and it wasn’t how I wanted things to turn out. I told her dad she needed help and he swore he’d get it for her, but he asked me to step back. The longer I hung around, the more she’d hold on. I agreed and stepped back. One night, about a month after, she called me.”

  This is about to get bad.

  “She said she was going to kill herself. Now, she’d said this at least a thousand times before, so you can understand I didn’t believe her. It wasn’t as though it was the first time. I told her she had to stop, that we were over and she needed to get help. Then I hung up and called her dad. He was out of town but he said he’d take care of it. That night, I felt uneasy . . . she’d told me she would kill herself so many times before, but this time felt different.”

  My heart twists and we both drink some more alcohol.

  “I decided to go and check on her. When I got to her house, it was dark. Her dad wasn’t home, so I broke in. I went into her room, but she wasn’t in her bed. I saw the bathroom light was on, so I barged in.”

  He stops talking and looks away. My heart is in shreds.

  “There was so much blood. I didn’t even know there was so much blood in the human body.” He gasps and I reach over, clutching his hand. “I knew it was her, even though I couldn’t see her face. I couldn’t see it because she . . . she had blown her own head off.”

  Vomit rises in my throat and I struggle to push it back down. Pain shoots through me, because I know, god do I know how graphic something like that can be, and how it sticks in your mind and never, ever leaves.

  “I see her every time I close my eyes. I see her face every time I even try to have fun. I let her down. I didn’t fight for her. Things got hard and I ran.”

  “You were eighteen,” I say softly. “Honey, you can’t blame yourself for that.”

  He turns to me and his eyes are glassy. “I loved her, Aria. I fucking loved her. I thought it was too hard, but when I saw her like that . . . it destroyed me. I let her down. I didn’t protect her when she needed me.”

  I swallow back my tears. Nothing I can say will take away his guilt. He’s hurting; he’s broken and he has every right to be.

  “I’m not telling you because I want your sympathy,” he says, his voice raspy. “I’m telling you because I get it. I get the nightmares; I get the need to avoid pity. My dad doesn’t know what happened. He still to this day thinks I left her and that she’s still alive somewhere. My brothers and mother think she was in an accident and passed away. I pushed them all away because I don’t want pity. So I get it.”

  Tears pool in my eyes, and I can’t hold them back. He squeezes my hand and I squeeze back. “My sister was my best friend, you know? I loved her so much. We were so close. I don’t remember much about that night, but I remember waking and turning to look at her. I knew, even at that age, that her head shouldn’t have been on that angle. Her eyes were wide and she was just staring at me . . . lifelessly. I can never not see her face. Every time I close my eyes they’re there.”

  Brody says nothing, but he understands. I know he does.

  “Hey Brody?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  He turns to me. “Then whose was it?”

  “People get sick, and they don’t think the way we do. She was suffering and obviously couldn’t handle it anymore. That’s not your fault.”

  “If I didn’t break up with her, it wouldn’t have happened.”

  I squeeze his hand again. “You and I both know that’s not true. Eventually, something would have happened. If things were that bad before you broke it off with her, then she was already in her own personal hell.”

  He says nothing more. He just lets my hand go and pulls out another flask. We have already finished the first.

  “Let’s walk, and drink. It helps.”

  I guess that means we’re done talking.

  I’m okay with that, because what just happened made me feel connected to someone in a way I haven’t felt since my sister and dad lived. It’s not a romantic connection—it’s an understanding, a bond over a similar pain.

  Maybe having these guys in my life won’t be such a bad thing, after all.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THEN – ONE YEAR EARLIER

  He’s thrusting inside me, deep yet soft. His fingers are curling into my hips and I’m whimpering, slapping my hands on the sheets beside me. He feels so amazing. So fucking amazing. His cock is sliding in and
out of my depth, making my body ache with the need for more. I arch up, pressing my breasts to his chest. His lips find mine and he kisses me roughly, groaning against my mouth.

  “Fuck,” he mutters. “So fuckin’ tight.”

  God. Yes.

  “I’m,” I gasp, “coming.”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  He fucks me harder and I explode around him, screaming his name until my voice is hoarse and my body is trembling as I come down from the best orgasm yet. This one was different; I don’t know how but it was. He made me feel like the only woman he’s ever laid his amazing touch upon. He makes me feel real. What happened when we were running earlier might have just been him pulling back.

  He’s inside me, and he’s making me feel like he cares.

  I wonder what he’s afraid of?

  “God dammit,” he rasps as his body stills inside me. “Fuck.”

  He drops his forehead to mine and his lips gently graze across my full ones. He gently pulls out and rolls off me. We lay side by side, and there’s so much I want to say. I want to ask to see him again. I want to know that there’s a chance. We connected; sure, we don’t know each other that well, but there’s something between us. I wonder if he feels it as strongly as I do.

  “Answer my questions,” I say softly.

  “What questions?”

  “Favorite color?”

  “Blue.”

  I smile. “Favorite car?”

  “Anything that’s old and beautiful. I particularly love Mustangs.”

  “Nice choice.” I shift closer. “Favorite state?”

  “Colorado.”

  “Great place.” I grin. “Favorite food?”

  “Pasta, anything pasta.”

  I beam. That’s mine, too. “Favorite place you’ve visited?”

  He tucks me into his side and I melt. “We went to Australia when I was a kid. I fucking loved it there.”

  “Oh, I’m jealous. I’d love to go to Australia. Where did you go?”

  “Cairns. It was beautiful. So green and tropical. Great place.”

  Damn. I wish I could have seen that. “Okay, now I’m officially jealous. All right, favorite childhood memory?”

  He stares at the ceiling. “When my brother broke his leg.”

  I giggle unexpectedly. “That’s your favorite memory?”

  He chuckles. “Not that he broke his leg, just that he did it because he was chasing a bully down the road.”

  “A bully?”

  “Yep, this dude was tryin’ to bash me. My younger brother has always been boisterous. He saw what happened and he chased this guy down the road. He ran across the road after him and got hit by a car.”

  I gasp. “Oh my God!”

  “It wasn’t funny at the time, but after, we all laughed so hard about it.”

  “You sound like you adore your family.”

  He nods. “Yeah, they’re pretty awesome.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Are you going to answer my questions?”

  “I’m not done yet,” I say.

  “All right, you get five more.”

  I close my eyes. Here goes. This is either going to go really bad or really good. I won’t know until I speak. “Have you been in love?”

  He flinches. “Not yet.”

  “Do you want to be?”

  He’s stiff. God, he hates this and that hurts. It hurts because it means he doesn’t want this as much as I do. “Sure, when I’m older. Right now, I’m young and I want to enjoy being young. I’ve seen marriages go wrong, and that shit isn’t something I want for myself. I just want to live before I’m tied down.”

  Wrong answer.

  Yet a true answer.

  “I understand,” I say gently. “I’m the opposite; I know life can end suddenly, so I don’t want to wait.”

  “Fair enough,” he says, but his voice is distant.

  I take a breath and say, “And this? You don’t want to see where it could go?”

  He’s silent for so long I wonder if he heard me, then he says, “I’m not sure. Let’s go to sleep. I’m buggered.”

  I’m not sure.

  Well, at least it’s not a no.

  I snuggle into him and let my eyes flutter closed, holding hope in my heart that he might just give this a chance. Right before I go to sleep, I whisper, “What’s your name?”

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

  He lies.

  Because tomorrow when I wake up, he’s gone and so are all his things.

  He left me alone, with no explanation and no reason.

  And in doing that, he broke my heart.

  ~*~*~*~

  NOW

  Brody and I have managed to get our hands on a bottle of alcohol. We’ve been drinking since this morning, and it’s now two in the afternoon and we’re both smashed. I’m enjoying my time with him, because he’s opening up to me and I’m seeing a really great side to him. We’re hidden well in the trees, so no one can find us. We don’t want to be found right now.

  “So,” I slur. “Has Blade always been such a jerk?”

  I know the answer to that; I know it because the Blade I met more than a year earlier was a really good guy. He didn’t want a relationship, but he wasn’t a pig. He had a good personality. This Blade? He’s angry and he’s bitter. I want to know why.

  “Nah,” Brody says, swallowing more alcohol. “That only happened about a year ago. He went away for a weekend and came back a fuckin’ jerk. Not sure what happened, but I ’spect a girl.”

  Oh. God.

  He’s been like that . . . since me?

  “Why would a girl cause him to become such a prick?”

  He shrugs. “He was always easy, running around with girls and livin’ hard. He enjoyed being young and was determined to stay that way. He was a good guy, don’t get me wrong—the girls loved him because he laid the charm on thick with them. After that weekend, he was different. He became a jerk, and I think it’s because whoever that girl was, she made him feel and he threw it all away. He thought it was what he wanted, but it wasn’t, and he fucked up.”

  Double oh god! He’s like this because . . . of me?

  I don’t understand. He’s pushed me away so much, he’s been a jerk, and he’s played games. Why the hell would he be like that because of me, yet he’s refusing to play nice? Is it purely because our parents are married now, and he doesn’t want to screw with that, or is it because he’s still pretending he doesn’t want a girl in his life?

  “That seems a bit extreme,” I mutter. “I mean if he wanted this chick, why didn’t he just say?”

  “Because he’s a fool and thinks he fuckin’ knows everything. He doesn’t. He’s so scared of relationships that he pushes anything good away.”

  That makes more sense.

  “Is that because of Jack and your mom?”

  He nods. “They were married a long time, but she cheated on him.”

  I gasp. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t know that.”

  “He doesn’t make it known. He walked and we were left with her. Blade, being the oldest, watched what she went through as well as what Dad went through. He was angry; he was bitter because they took away our family. He didn’t understand it, and I don’t think he does even now.”

  “That’s sucky. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugs. “Mom is a spoiled bitch. Dad is lucky to have found Nancy.”

  My heart swells and I smile at him. His lip quirks and I realize just how beautiful Brody could be if he smiled.

  “Did you go to the army?”

  His brow shoots up. “Why do you ask?”

  “You were wearing cargo pants when you got here? And you just have . . . an army look.”

  He nods. “I looked at joining, went for a few weeks. I still haven’t decided if I’ll continue.”

  “You should. You’re smart and you’ll do great in that field.”

  “I
’m twenty-two; I don’t know what I want. It’s a big commitment.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, it is.”

  “What about you? Medicine is a big thing.”

  I nod. “Yeah, it is. I want to help people. After my sister . . . those men saved Mom and my lives that night. They couldn’t help my sister and dad because it was too late, but if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be here. After that I just wanted to save lives.”

  “You’d be great in the ER then.”

  I blink. “You know . . . I never even thought of that.”

  He shrugs one shoulder. “It’s a hardcore job to be in, but I reckon you’d do really good.”

  I smile. “You know, I think I’m going to like having you as a brother, Brody.”

  He gives me a half-smile and I was right; he’s beautiful when he smiles.

  “Let’s go hire a jet ski,” he says.

  “Oh!” I squeal, leaping up. “Yes.”

  We run like loons towards the hire building. Brody pulls it together as if he’s not pissed and manages to get the young dude behind the counter to let us hire some jet skis. How they didn’t smell him, I’ll never know. We get our life jackets and run down to the water where they’re tied.

  “Whoever can get to the other side of the lake first, wins,” Brody says, jumping onto one.

  “Oh, I’m going to kick your ass!”

  We get on one each and the guy unties them for us. Then we take off. I’m drunk, and I should know better, but when you’re drunk you don’t know better. That’s why drinking can be so dangerous. I hear my name being called when I’m zooming and turn to see Jack, Blade and Ripley standing by the water, waving their hands.

  I ignore them.

  Instead I squeal with laughter as I zoom towards the other side of the lake with Brody. He’s laughing so loud it swells my heart with joy. I’m right there with him. We make it to the other side and spin around quickly, gunning the engines to bring us back towards Jack and the guys. I’m nearly there when I turn to the side too quickly. I don’t see it coming—I’m just flying through the air before I can stop myself.

  I soar and fear squeezes my chest as I land in the lake so hard pain shoots up my spine. I scream and flail. I’m afloat, but I’m drunk and I’m in agony. My head keeps plunging forward, dunking my face in the water. There’s blood coming from my forehead, and dripping into my mouth. I gasp for air and my lungs burn as I keep bobbing up and down.