Good Stepbrother (Love #2) (14 page)

“Excuse me?” He recoiled as though I’d slapped him. “What we have together is special, Bri.”

“No, it’s really not. It’s been you taking advantage of a broken person to make me do what you wanted. You’re not the puppeteer, and I’m tired of being a puppet. I’m exhausted, Patrick, and I can’t do this anymore. It’s been fun but it’s over. I want to stop touring and record albums how I want to.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Patrick screamed at me. “You can’t break the contract! We’ll fine you!”

“Fine me then,” I sighed. “I don’t want this life anymore. I never wanted this life.”

Just as he reached for me, Charlie walked back in the door. “Touch her and I swear to God, I’ll castrate you with my bare hands. You’ve done enough, now get the fuck out.”

“This is my client!” Patrick shrieked, his cheeks reddening in his anger.

“And this is my kid. Now get out.” Charlie pointed at the door. “Or do I need to get someone to remove you?”

Patrick pointed at me, his finger trembling. “You’ll regret this, you little bitch. I’ll give you a few days to get your shit together. Call me when you’re ready to be reasonable.” He swept out the door and Charlie closed it behind him.

“Jesus Christ, kid, that’s what you’ve been dealing with for five years? I’d be a mess too.” He came to the side of the bed and gently brushed my hair out of my face.

“Thanks for sticking up for me, Charlie, you’ve been the only one in my life who ever did. You made me stop with Peter and get my life together, and I feel like you just did the same thing with Patrick. Thank you.” Catching his hand, I squeezed it gently. My lashes fluttered closed and I whispered, “I just want to go home. I’m so tired.”

“We’ll take you home, honey,” he promised me. I slept.

Sometime later that night, I was discharged with strict orders to go home and rest. We had a long drive, but Charlie told me I could sleep the whole way. Carter met us at the door of the hospital, and he helped me load into the car. I slept more. For days I slept.

I’d wake up just long enough to eat a few bites of food, drink a little water, go to the bathroom, then I’d crash out again. On the second day, my father had come to my room. Charlie let him inside, thinking he was actually there because he cared.

“Bri,” he called, shaking me awake.

“What?” I grumbled sleepily, opening my eyes to the dusky room. “Father?”

“Are you home for good?” he asked, and I nodded.

“I think so.” Yawning, I struggled to sit up. “Why are you here?”

“Can’t a father check on his daughter?” he snapped.

Rolling my eyes, I pushed myself to sitting. “If we had a father/daughter relationship, I’d say yes, but what are you here for?”

“Maybe you’re a little like me after all. Short and to the point. I like that. I’ve always been proud of you, you know…” he started and I held up a hand.

“Don’t lie to me. You’ve always hated me and I knew it. What do you want? Just ask me, don’t beat around the bush and tell me pretty stories.”

He scratched at his cheek and shrugged. “I need some money. I’m in debt.”

“What kind of debt?” I asked.

“Gambling. I owe a few people some money and I need to get it paid back. Then when I hit big on the tracks next week, I can pay you back. Please, baby?”

My stomach turned and I shook my head. “No.” He hadn’t cared for twenty-three years, and he only cared now because he thought he could get money from me. I was worth more than conditional attention. I’d learned that much in rehab.

“No?” he growled. “You’re telling me no?”

“I’m not giving you money for your addiction. No. Plain and simple.”

“You’ve always thought so highly of yourself…if I hadn’t sent you to Washington, you wouldn’t even be famous,” he started and I snapped.

“No, I actually haven’t. I always felt like I was the worst, so I pretended I was the best, so no one knew how much I was hurting. How badly I was drowning. How much it killed me to see you starting a new fucking family and forgetting your firstborn because you really hated me all along. However, now I know I have worth, and I’m not going to give you money. Not because I hate you, but because I feel sorry for you. You once let me and Mom go sleep in a ratty motel so your new whore could move in. Has she left you too?”

He blinked. “I can’t believe you’re talking to me like this. I gave you life. I’m your father.”

“You provided sperm to fertilize an egg. That doesn’t make you a father. That makes you a sperm donor. A father cares. A father goes to a shitty apartment in the hood to rescue their daughter. He buys them kale and worries if they’re okay. He doesn’t come to beg for money and pretend he gives a fuck. So why don’t you take your sorry, pathetic ass out of here? My father’s already in this house, and it’s never been you.”

“You’ll regret this,” he whispered.

“I regret many things in my life, Ed, but telling you to go to hell isn’t one of them.”

“Fine, if that’s what you want. You’re so much like your mother…”

“I take that as a compliment. Please leave, I need sleep.” My voice wavered and I collapsed back on my pillows as he slammed my door.

It was past time I stood up for myself. My eyes slid closed and I smiled.
I’m worthy of real love.

After another day of sleep, I finally felt refreshed enough to wake up in the middle of the afternoon and crawl downstairs. I wanted coffee, and yogurt if we had any.

Puttering around the kitchen, I started coffee and searched the refrigerator, coming up empty for yogurt, but I found pudding instead.
Close enough,
I decided, pulling open the lid of the butterscotch pudding and dipping my finger into it. Tasting the pudding, I wrinkled my nose. It was gross. Tossing it into the trashcan, I waited for my coffee to finish. I guessed Charlie had gone to the store. I vaguely remembered him coming to ask me if I wanted anything. I wanted kale, to make kale chips. A car pulled into the drive and I peeked between the yellowing lace curtains to see Carter opening his door and stepping out of the car.

My heart tripped and I moved to the door to open it as he knocked. “Brielle! You’re awake.”

God, he looked delicious. Late afternoon sunlight bounced off his hair and made his eyes sparkle. He was too pretty for his own good. That’s when I noticed a bruise on his cheek, marring his perfect face. “Barely. The sun burns. Get inside. I need coffee. What’s with your face?” I shuffled to the kitchen and he followed behind me closely. When I stopped, he bumped into me. I admit, I enjoyed it.

“Sorry. I dropped a wrench on my face.”

“Good job, genius. Don’t hover. I hate it. Sit down.” I pointed at the chair.

“Where’s Dad?” he asked.

“Store. Getting me kale.”

“What’s with you and kale?” Carter chuckled.

“I like it. I’m vegetarian these days.”

“Oh. I read about your syndrome.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I shrugged. “Okay?”

“I’m scared.”

“You’re scared?” I snorted, sitting down across from him with a cup of coffee. “You’re not the one hibernating like a bear.”

“Are the doctors sure this is what’s going on? I can’t imagine someone who is twenty-three having something like this.”

Laughing, I shook my head. “You’re never too young to be sick. I didn’t take care of my body when I was growing up and now I’m paying for it. Did you know that by the time I was thirteen I was doing drugs?”

He gaped at me in shock. “What?”

It was past time for me to come clean. He would either still love me or not, but he had to know who I used to be and why I wasn’t her anymore. “Party drugs mostly. Remember the night I got raped?”

He nodded. “I’ll never forget.”

“I had taken ecstasy and then I was roofied. I’m lucky I didn’t die.”

“I never knew.”

“Of course not. You would’ve ratted me out to Mom and Charlie. You were so damn good. I couldn't risk my fun being ruined. At the time, it was mostly fun. There were some scary moments. I’ve been raped more times than I care to admit, Carter. I’ve done things to get pills…I’m not proud of who I used to be. Hollywood was horrible for drugs. I dabbled in cocaine, took ecstasy whenever I needed a high, and lived on top of the world. It’s all fine and good until your body rebels. Last year I was partying and I ended up in the hospital. My manager insisted I go to rehab then, but I told him no. There was a party after the Grammys, when I won, and I had a reaction to the ecstasy I took at the after party. I guess I got a bad batch or something. It wasn’t good, at all. Since then I have been exhausted all the time.” Sipping my coffee, I waited for him to respond.

“Were the drugs part of your mood swings? You acted like you were crazy sometimes and it was driving me insane.”

“Probably. Mostly I was just into myself and being a bitch to keep you on your toes and wanting me. Not really some of my finest moments...”

“Were you high when the accident happened?”

That hurt like an axe chopping off a limb. “No. I was only using on the weekends, mostly. The night of the accident, after Charlie called and told me about Mom…” I choked up and cleared my throat. “I went to Dad’s house and I told him what I’d been doing. I begged him to let me go to Seattle to live with my aunt. He was mortified and put me on a plane at dawn. The accident scared me straight for a little while. Then I met up with some guys in the music scene and my aunt helped me get a demo tape into a couple labels where she had connections. I was fine until I got big. Then drugs were everywhere and I felt such pressure to perform...they made it fun to perform. I wasn’t doing what I wanted music-wise and I really hated it without the drugs.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. It’s easy to get caught up in peer pressure and believe that people want the best for you. When really they just want to line their own pockets.”

We fell silent for a moment and he piped up, “I meant to say thank you for putting Logan in contact with us.”

“Of course. It’s the least I could do. Logan’s a good guy. He came to see me a few times in rehab. We naturally talked about you and I mentioned you were running the shop…it was nothing.”

“Tell me more about when you were gone,” he asked, genuinely curious. I couldn’t tell him more. Maybe one day.

“Not today. Some things are a little hard to talk about. I’m here now and I don’t want to live in the past anymore. I’m not that Brielle. I haven’t been for a long time.”

Dad walked in the door just then and I breathed a sigh of relief. “Bri, I found kale. I think.”

Giggling, I told him, “I bet you did just fine.” Pulling the kale from the bag, I sighed in relief and turned to Carter. “See?”

“Kale.” He smiled.

“I’m going to make kale chips. Want some?”

“Sure.”

“Awesome, Charlie, you found avocados too.”

Mindlessly, I chopped kale and made my chips. The men chatted behind me and I tried to pretend I felt normal. Exhaustion nipped at me and I considered sleep again, but I wanted to eat first. A little while later, my chips were done and I ate them with smashed avocado and salt. Neither Charlie nor Carter were impressed. “It’s good!” I told them.

“You enjoy it. I want a burger.” Carter groused.

“Oh, come on, you guys need to eat more than meat, cheese, and potatoes. Let me cook for you tomorrow night. I’ll make a vegetarian feast.”

“Do you think you feel up for all that, Bri?” Charlie asked. “You know the doctor said to take it easy and after your dad came and got you upset...”

“Your dad came by? Why did he upset you?”

Sighing heavily, I shrugged. “Yes, he did. He wanted money. I told him no. He got angry and threatened me. He said that he made me who I am and without him sending me to Washington I would've never been famous. He’s broke from gambling too much, and I'm not going to fuel his bad habit. That would be like giving crack to a crackhead. Anyway. Back to cooking. I like to cook. Let me cook for you. But right now? I think I’m ready to go to bed. Carter, can you help me upstairs?” Pushing away my plate, I murmured, “Charlie can you put that away? I’m really tired.”

“I’ve got it honey, you go rest.”

“Thanks.” Standing, I wavered on my feet and almost fell over, but Carter’s strong arms caught me. “Good catch, Carter,” I whispered against his neck.

He scooped me into his arms and I cradled against his chest. It was the best feeling in the world. I’d never felt safer or more secure. Nudging my door open with his foot, he walked across my room and placed me in bed before tucking me in and kissing my forehead.

Catching my hand behind his neck, I pulled his lips to mine. Fireworks erupted in my bloodstream and I tried to pull him closer. I needed him.

Pulling away, he whispered, “Sleep.”

“I’ll be better soon. I shouldn’t have let my manager convince me to go. Are you mad?”

Sitting on the edge of my bed, he shrugged. “I was.”

“I’m sorry. I was emotional after we had sex and then he called and said I could do a short tour, just six shows, and then be off for the month of January. So I jumped on it. I figured I’d be back and we would’ve both had time to think…I just didn’t realize that I was also expected to fit into this stupid dress for the Grammys. It was some designer from Thailand and she made the dress so small a little girl couldn’t wear it.” I rambled on, hoping he would understand what was going through my head. I wasn’t running away, just taking a breath because it was all so much.