Good Stepbrother (Love #2) (2 page)

The saddest part was that I was only twelve.

Sometimes I wished my father cared enough to stop me from going down the wrong path but he was too busy. I wished my mother instilled in me that I didn’t need to be viewed as a sexual being to have worth. But she was too busy trying to keep my father interested by being the perfect housewife.

It didn’t work. He still cheated on her. I knew he was cheating when I saw him cuddled up to his secretary one afternoon at the mall. They came out of the lingerie store and my girlfriends and I saw him.

“Bri, isn’t that your dad?” Jennifer hissed, pointing across the mall to a tall man with salt and pepper hair in a pinstripe suit.

“I doubt it…” I started, narrowing my eyes and looking closer. He had his arm wrapped around a redhead wearing a skin-tight green dress and heels. From the back, it looked an awful lot like his young new secretary.

“Bri, that is him!” Britney gasped. “Omg, he was getting lingerie for her!” They whispered back and forth, speculating on why he was buying sexy, lacy panties for a woman that wasn’t my mother. I should’ve been paying attention. I couldn’t. Because I knew it was him. He flicked his arm in the air to check the gold watch that we’d gotten him for Christmas. The bastard.

I stalked down the black and white tile, fury propelling me forward. Britney and Jennifer tried to hold me back, but I was a girl possessed. I grasped the arm of his jacket and jerked firmly.

“Why are you here?” I growled.

He turned and his eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “Brielle! What are you doing here?”

“I asked you first. What are you doing here with her?” I wrinkled my nose and shot his secretary a nasty look.

“That’s not your concern. Go home.”

“No, I’m not going to go home. I’m asking you what you’re doing here with her. Buying lingerie.”

“It’s a present for your mother. Now, take your little friends and go home. Immediately.” His cheeks flushed and he refused to meet my eyes. He was lying through his teeth. I hated him.

“You’re a liar.”

“And if you don’t go home immediately and stop making a scene, I’ll have you sent to boarding school. Do we understand each other?”

We stared each other down, and I was the first to blink and look away. “Whatever, come on girls. The mall suddenly reeks of rat.” I stomped away, my entourage following close at my heels. I didn’t say a word the whole walk home. I just steamed.

“Bri, what are you gonna do? OMG, you guys should go on a daytime talk show.” Britney suggested and Jennifer echoed her thoughts.

“Go home. I want to be alone,” I snapped, leaving them standing confused on the sidewalk. I broke into a run and ran all the way to Carter’s house. I needed some stability.

Knocking on the peeling green paint of his door, I waited for him to come to the door so we could talk. His mother opened the door. “Brielle! What are you doing here?” She self-consciously straightened one of her long blonde curls and smoothed a hand down her shirt.

“Is Carter home?” I rasped, emotion clogging my throat.

“No, I’m sorry, he’s at his friend Kirby’s house. You could call later, though…” she suggested.

“Yeah sure.” I wouldn’t call. I felt like an idiot even showing up at his house. Carter was busy. Too busy for me and my drama. I backed off the steps and smiled tightly. “Don’t bother telling him I came by.”

“Is everything okay?” she asked, concern knitting her brow.

“Sure, it’s fine,” I lied through clenched teeth. “Just fine. See you later, Mrs. Travis.” I bolted home and stumbled up the stairs. I would tell my mother what I’d seen. She would believe me.

I burst through the door, screaming, “Mom!”

“What is it, honey?” She came from the living room in a rush, turning a bracelet on her arm. “Look at this lovely bracelet your father brought home. He’s taking us out for dinner. You better get ready!” She waggled her arm in my face and the tens of diamonds stuck into the gold sparkled.

I looked behind her to see him leaned against the door jamb, a slick smile crossing his lips. He’d made it home before me, and he’d bought my mother some trinket. She’d never believe me now and he knew it. Rage simmered through my veins and I pasted a sweet smile on. “I’m not feeling so well. I think I ate something bad at lunch.”

“Oh, no!” she simpered, pressing her cool hand to my forehead. “You are awfully warm, let’s get you upstairs. Maybe we should postpone dinner, Ed?”

“No, you two go out to dinner,” I interrupted. “I’ll just go lay down.” I ran upstairs, tears streaming down my cheeks. Opening my door, I slipped inside my room and slammed it shut. I threw myself across my bed and wept. I’d never felt more alone.

Chapter Three

By my seventh grade year, my parents were falling apart and the wreckage was massive. I was one of the casualties of their love affair exploding. Neither of them had time for me, and I was left to fend for myself. I was a fledgling plant in the family garden and I was soon choked out by weeds and left to fester in my own mess. I rebelled like any other teenager in my position. I drank. I played with drugs, little white pills that Jameson would slip me after football games.

“It’s just E, babe, it’s nothing heavy,” he’d whisper as he’d kiss me. I don’t know where he got the E from, but he always had a ready stash. All the older kids were taking it to party, so I thought it was okay for me to take, too. I’ll spare you some of the darker details, because I’m not proud of who I used to be.

I did things no teenage girl should’ve done, with too many people. I loved being loved. It felt good. It made me feel alive when nothing else did. My grades plummeted to just above failing. I did just enough to skate by and nothing else. My mother did notice the bad grades and continued to have Carter come over on Saturday mornings. I wanted so desperately to tell him what was going on with me, but that would’ve involved having feelings, and I established long ago I never wanted to have those again.

“Carter, we’ve been at this for like two years. I cannot spell. I suck at it so bad!” I tugged my hair in fake frustration. I knew how to spell all of the words. I just didn’t want to do anymore work.

“It’s not so bad. You’re getting better,” he reassured me, his warm hazel eyes shining sweetly. I knew he loved me. Everyone loved me for one reason or another, but Carter? He loved who he believed I was. I had to break that image and make him stop caring about me. How could I have someone so wonderful care about me when I hated who I was?

Taking in a deep breath, I set to breaking his heart. “Mom’s just glad I’m not failing,” I sighed and tossed down my pencil. “But I have to make a B on this next spelling test or I can’t go to the eighth grade dance with Jameson.” Looking over at him from the corner of my eye, I saw his face pale and he gritted his teeth.

“You’re going to the eighth grade dance with Jameson?”

“Yeah, we’re dating, you know that, Carter. I’m the only seventh grader to be asked to the dance. It’s like a freshman being asked to the senior prom! I have to go. I have this gorgeous blue dress that will look amazing with Jameson’s tie he’s got picked out, and I want to go so much. All of my girlfriends are completely jealous.” I rambled on, my heart twisting slightly as I wounded him.
I’m so sorry, Carter
.

“Your dad’s okay with you dating?” he asked softly, his throat working as he swallowed.

“Mom and Dad are having issues,” I smirked. “He’s too worried about losing Mom to worry about me. They’re talking about a divorce, but you didn’t hear that from me,” I laughed airily. “It’s perfect for me. Jameson is such a catch. No other seventh grader has an eighth grade boyfriend. I’m moving up in this world.” I hated every single word that tumbled from my glossy lips.

Carter looked down at his paperwork and his shoulders slumped. “I see,” he said softly. “I need to go.”

“Why? I thought you were going to help me study!” I knew then I’d hit the mark and he’d never be back. I’d done what I felt was right. I pushed him away to save him from my darkness. He loaded his books up into his backpack and blinked back tears. It killed me to know I’d hurt him, but it was what I wanted, or so I thought. I had to protect him from me. “Talk to me, Carter,” I begged. I wanted to know what was going through his head. Did he hate me yet?

He shook his head and darted out of my room. I heard him open the front door and tell my mother to find another tutor. He was gone. I gently closed my bedroom door and leaned against it. I squeezed my eyes shut and warred with my emotions. I hated hurting him but I couldn’t take him down in the undertow. I was the reason storms were named after people. Hurricane Brielle, Category Five. The destruction would be massive, and I only wanted to wreck myself.

***

“Come on, babe,” Jameson whispered against my neck. “Let me feel you.” His hands pawed my chest and I struggled against him.

“I don’t wanna. I’m gonna be sick.” Bile skittered up my throat and I shoved it down. I’d had too much punch at the dance and I couldn’t think.

“God dammit, Bri! I’m tired of this. You’re such a prick tease!” I wasn’t prepared for his beefy hand coming across my face. The sharp slap jolted me out of my alcoholic haze.

“You hit me,” I whispered, nursing my cheek with my hand. “You hit me.”

“I’m tired of this!” he growled, pushing me back against the bleachers. “You want to act like a slut, you’ll be treated like one.”

Again, you’re being spared from some details, because I don’t want to relive the memories. I wish I could say I left Jameson Keller the second the pimply-faced dick dared to slap me in the seventh grade. But I didn’t. I stayed with him for a little while longer. Boys are assholes. I did what I thought he wanted me to do, what would make him happy, because if he was happy, I was loved.

I met my next boyfriend, Toby McLean, at a football game, where I was supposed to be cheering on Jameson. My eyes strayed repeatedly to his tall form as he leaned against the fence, cigarette smoke circling his head. Streetlights danced on his black leather jacket. He was hot.

By halftime, I had scrambled from my position on the bleachers to the dry grass of the field so I could talk to him. I sashayed to him like I was a supermodel. He was a lot older, I could tell that, and I wanted to see if I could get him interested in me. “Hi,” I breathed, sidling up to him under the light.

“Hey, babe,” he offered, inhaling deeply on his cigarette stub. He flicked the butt into the grass and blew out a cloud of smoke. “What’s your name, baby girl?”

“Bri,” I cooed, running my fingertip down the sleeve of his jacket. “Yours?”

“You’re awful young to be over here flirting,” he chuckled. “I’m Toby.”

“Age ain’t nothin’ but a number,” I giggled, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

“Tell that to the cops. You’re jail bait.” He smiled and ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. “You’re hot, though.”

“I know,” I replied. “And if you play your cards right, Toby, I could be yours.”

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline and he licked his lips. “Who says I want you, baby girl?”

“You do,” I told him, squeezing his bicep. “But you can’t have me…yet.” I turned to go back to the bleachers and gave him one long, sultry look over my shoulder as I strolled away.

Looking back to the bleachers, I saw my best friends sitting there with their mouths open in shock. I was flying high. I felt so gorgeous, so sexy, so wanted. I knew Toby wanted me. Everyone wanted me.

Except my father. My smile faltered and I blinked back tears as I climbed into the seat between my best friends. Things weren’t the greatest at home anymore. I blinked a couple of times and tuned into what the chatterboxes next to me were going on about.

“OMG! He could be an axe murderer!” Britney squealed. “You don’t know him!”

“He’s hot, though!” Jennifer sighed. “Look at that, he’s all brooding and dangerous.”

I shrugged and tried to play it cool. “His name’s Toby, and he will be mine.”

They both squealed and giggled around me while I narrowed my eyes and focused in on my next target. Jameson Keller was so yesterday’s news. After the football game, where he got stomped by the rival team, I met him at the edge of the field.

He tried to kiss me and I backed away from his sweaty face. Ninth grade wasn’t exactly suiting him. He was pimply and hairy and gross. Plus he smelled like last week’s trash. Ew. “Don’t kiss me,” I snapped and he rolled his eyes.

“You’re my woman,” he growled, reaching for me again.

I smacked his hand away. “Not anymore.”

“You think so highly of yourself, don’t you? You’re nothing but a slut. Just wait until I tell everyone exactly what you’ve done for me.” He tossed his helmet to the ground and sneered at me.

I shrugged. “Go ahead. Wait until I tell all the girls you have a two inch penis. It’s like a baby carrot attached to a Brillo pad.”

His mouth fell open and his eyes bugged out. “I have a condition!”

“And I have pictures,” I smirked, pulling my cell phone from my pocket.

“You’re evil!” he hissed. “Fuck you, good riddance.” He bent to grab his helmet and jogged away from me, mumbling cuss words under his breath.

I walked home by myself, enjoying the chill fall air and the leaves rustling around my feet as I strolled. Headlights came up behind me and the car slowed. It was an old beater and my heart rate picked up for a moment until I saw the face in the window. Toby beckoned me over with one long finger.

Pursing my lips, I opened the door and leaned over to look at him. “What?”

“Get in, baby girl, we’re gonna take a ride.”

I swallowed nervously. Toby was older than I thought. He could drive. “Who says I wanna ride with you?”

He laughed softly. “You know you do, baby girl.”

Shit. I did. He was danger and I loved it. “I have curfew,” I started, suddenly feeling very much like a child.

“Do you?” He smirked. “I’ll get you home safe, baby girl. Slide on in.” He patted the cracked vinyl seat and I swallowed nervously.

Tossing my hair, I sat in the seat and closed the door quietly. “How old are you?” I asked quietly as I buckled my seatbelt.

“Old enough to know better but too damn young to care,” he offered, putting the car into drive and rolling down the street.

Nothing happened that night. We drove aimlessly listening to music I’d never heard, a swelling, thumping beat that mimicked my raging heartbeat. I loved Toby. He was different. Five minutes to midnight, he pulled up in front of my house with a low whistle.

“Damn, baby girl, you’re rolling in it,” he mumbled. “Too good for me.”

“No way. The money doesn’t matter. I’m not like them,” I insisted, grabbing his hand impulsively.

“You’re not” he agreed, leaning over and sliding his hand into my hair. His lips pressed against mine and I forgot how to breathe. He tasted like cigarettes which was gross, but the way he kissed? Holy hell. He pulled back after a minute and ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “See you soon, baby girl.”

I opened my door and stumbled out, my knees just short of jelly. Somehow, I stumbled up the stairs and unlocked the front door. He peeled out of my driveway and honked the horn, waking up half of our neighbors. I was in love. I couldn’t wipe the stupid grin from my face. But what I walked into soon made my smile disappear. My parents stood in the marble foyer waiting for me.

I jerked to a stop and carefully closed the door. “I’m not late for curfew,” I started sullenly. Then I noticed the suitcases by my mother’s feet. “What’s going on here?”

My mother held her head high and she spoke clearly, even though tears ran down her cheeks. “We’re leaving, Brielle.”

My brow furrowed. “Wait, what?”

“You and your mother are leaving,” my father interjected. “We’re getting a divorce.”

I wavered on my feet. “What?” I knew things were bad, but I didn’t know they were that bad.

“We’re moving into an efficiency apartment that your father has so graciously gotten for us until I can get a job. He’s marrying his secretary.”

I swung my gaze to my father. “I knew it, you lying bastard!”

He shrugged. “I don’t owe you any explanation.”

“Fuck you! Yes you do! I’m your daughter!”

“No daughter of mine would dare to speak to me in such a manner. I hope that the baby she carries has better manners than you.”

My mother gasped. “The slut is pregnant? You said you didn’t want any more children!”

“With you.” He crossed his arms. “I’m asking you to leave the premises now.”

“Come on, Bri, let’s go.”

“I’ve called a cab for you,” he smiled tightly. “The car stays with me. I purchased it and my name is on the title.”

“Everything is in your name,” Mom wept. “I hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual, dear.”

“I’ll be asking for child support and alimony,” she growled.

“Of course you will, and it will be granted at a rate that the judge deems necessary, not what you’ve been accustomed to, my dear.” He walked to the door and held it open, pointing outside to the dusky night. “Please leave.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” Mom whispered. “After all I did for you…”

“You provided services. You were paid for those services. Now I no longer require them.” He shrugged and smiled tightly. “I’ve upgraded.”

“Brielle, come get your suitcases,” she ordered.

I snapped to attention and picked up two bags of stuff. “This is it?”

“The rest of your things were deemed unnecessary by Hitler here,” she grumbled.

“You have clothes and books. Your furniture will be given to you, delivered by a truck tomorrow. Tonight, you and your mother need to stay at a motel. I’ve gotten you a room at the Meal Motel.” Meal Motel was a forty dollar a night motel on the edge of town that housed crack whores and hookers.