Stepbrother Backstage (The Hawthorne Brothers Book 3) (13 page)

Chapter Eight

No one even bats an eye as Finn and I return to the lake
house and resume our places within the strange little ecosystem that’s cropped
up here. There are no suspicious looks, or leading questions, or fanfare.
Everyone is so wrapped up in their own lives that Finn and I skate right under
the radar. To be honest, I don’t think my family would even believe it if they
knew what I really got up to with Finn during our little trip. In their eyes,
I’m still the baby of the family whose life has yet to begin.

If only they knew a fraction of the truth, that
misunderstanding would be shattered to bits.

Finn and I fall back into the routine we’ve established,
ignoring each other around our families and sneaking off at every given moment
to share some alone time. But even when we’re surrounded by other people, the
new connection forged between us remains strong. In a crowded room, I can tell
what Finn is thinking without even looking his way. So a couple nights after we
return, I know full well that he’s less than pleased when John enlists his boys
for a construction job the following day. Finn and I had plans to take an ATV
out in the woods and promptly get up to no good. After all, we’re running out
of time here at the lake.

“As if he has any right to ask us for anything,” Finn
mutters late that night, as we lie side-by-side in my narrow bed.

“It’s bullshit,” I whisper, laying my cheek on his chest,
“But I’ll do my best to make it up to you once you get back.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he says, nipping at my ear.

We fall into a grappling, sleepy wrestling match, trying to
keep quiet. I know we’re being reckless, stupid even—but I can’t stay away from
Finn. I wonder if part of me wants us to get caught. That would certainly show
my family that I’m not just some doe eyed innocent. But as tempting as that
“self destruct” button may be at times, I fight the urge to use it. It’s not
time, not yet. Who knows? Maybe once I head back to Vermont next week, they’ll
be nothing to tell my family at all. Maybe Finn and I will part as “just
friends” and go back to our real lives. I can feel a knot rising in my throat
at the mere thought of it.

That can’t be good
, I think to myself, falling into a
light, fitful sleep as Finn slips back to his own bedroom.

The Hawthorne men set off early the next day for their job
in town, leaving us Porter women entirely to our own devices for the first time
all week. With everything that’s been going on between me and Finn, I’ve all
but forgotten that this whole trip was supposed to be a chance to reconnect
with my family. And I’m not the only one who seems a bit distracted, either.
More than once, Finn and I have heard other people moving around in the wee
hours of the morning, sneaking in and out of doors. Who knows what’s really
going on under this roof anymore?

It occurs to me, as I while away the hours going through my
latest photos, that I should probably be more freaked out about my and Finn’s
family connection. With two other Hawthornes and Porters bumping uglies, our
own relationship would seem more than a little bizarre to any observer. But to
be honest, the fact that Luke and Sophie are an item doesn’t bother me in and
of itself—I just hate how shady she’s being about it. And there’s no real
danger of Mom and John getting serious. Maybe my indifference just goes to show
how much I’ve distanced myself from my scattered family. These days, they feel
more like strangers who happen to share my genetic code than anything.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s better that way.

Of course, not all of the Porter women share my ambivalence
about family bonding. Robin is pleased as punch to have us girls all to herself
for the evening, with the guys out on a job. She wastes no time in proclaiming
that this is “girls night”, and that our attendance is mandatory. Try as I
might to worm my way out of it, Mom all but drags me out onto the front porch
once the sun has gone down so that our “quality time” can commence.

“Christ, Mom…” I mutter, as she herds me out through the
front door, “Are you gonna cuff me too?”

“Don’t be silly,” she says distractedly, guiding me into one
of four assembled Adirondack chairs on the porch.

She’s laid out a bounty of wine, cheese, fruit, and
chocolate on a low wicker table between the chairs. I narrow my eyes at the
spread, more than a little suspicious of her motives. I know how to spot a
bribe when I see one.

“Now, don’t move,” Robin says, a gauzy shawl wrapped around
her tanned shoulders, “I’ll go get the others.”

I sit back heavily in my chair, gazing out across the wide
front lawn. A sense of foreboding settles over me as I’m serenaded by a choir
of crickets. Something’s got my mom on edge. She only ever goes out of her way
to force “family meetings” on us when she has news that no one wants to hear. Maybe
I’m not giving her enough credit. Maybe she actually does just want to spend
some time with her daughters who she barely ever sees…

Not at all convinced, I pour myself a hefty glass of wine.
Whatever’s about to go down, I’m sure I’ll want to be a little tipsy for it.

I’ve just taken a long, satisfying swig from my glass when
Mom ushers Sophie out onto the veranda. I glance up at my older sister, almost
surprised to see her. We’ve barely said three words to each other since our
spat on the dock the other day.

“Now let me just get your sister, and we
’
ll
be all set,” Mom says to us, all but skipping back into the house to fetch
Maddie.

Sophie eyes the assortment of treats with the same suspicion
I feel gnawing at my heart. She sits down beside me without saying a word,
which is quite a rare occurrence. Usually, you can’t turn Sophie’s running
commentary off. I can see her searching for the perfect ice breaker, anything,
to dispel this silence.

“You want first dibs?” she asks, looking at the decadent
buffet before us.

“Yeah. Sure,” I reply, lifting a strawberry from the fruit
plate as Sophie grabs the nearest bottle of wine.

“What have you been up to, these past few days?” she asks,
apparently not in the mood to beat around the bush. “I haven
’
t
seen hide nor hair of you.”

“I told you,” I reply, “I
’
ve been
hanging out with Finn and his band. Taking some pictures for them.”

“For days?” she goes on, lifting her eyes to mine. Am I
crazy or is there something accusatory in her gaze?

“It
’
s not like there
’
s
anyone to hang out with here,” I point out, firmly holding her gaze, “What with
you and Maddie making yourselves scarce, and all.”

Her self-righteous resolve wavers as another long pause
springs up between us. There are so many unsaid words hanging in the air by
now, it’s a miracle we can still breathe at all. What I wouldn’t give for a
straight answer from her. For the kind of honesty that was so easy when we were
little girls.

“Anna,” Sophie says softly, her voice swollen with tears, “I
’
m sorry.”

“For…what?” I ask slowly, taken aback.

“For making you feel like I don
’
t trust
you,” she says, words spilling from her lips, “For not checking in with you to
make sure you were OK.”

I brace myself, amazed by her sudden shift. Was she reading
my mind just now, or what?

“Are we talking about now, or these whole past few years?” I
ask her, unsure what’s set off this confessional flood.

“Both? I guess?” she says, her blue eyes wide and searching.
“I just want you to know that I do trust you. More than anyone in the world. I
want you to be a bigger part of my life, Anna. And I
’
m
sorry if I haven
’
t let you be before. If there
’
s…If there
’
s anything I can do. If there
’
s anything you want to know, or ask me…
Well, I
’
m all ears. And no lip, for once in my damn life.”

“Really?” I ask. This feels too good to be true.

“Really,” she says resolutely. “Go on, Anna. Ask me.”

I stare at my big sister, baffled by this bombardment of
hers. She must know that I’m hip to what’s going on between her and Luke. And
how annoyed I am at her obvious efforts to keep me in the dark. But now that
Finn and I have started…Whatever it is we’ve started…Do I even want to get into
this conversation with her? I’m not sure, but I can’t ignore those big,
imploring eyes of hers. She wants badly to offer up her truth, and I have to
accept it.

“Sophie,” I start, “Are you—?”

“
Got her!
” Mom calls, bursting through
the front door once again, “Maddie will be down in just a second.”

I grit my teeth, furious to have my conversation with Sophie
derailed. My middle sister and I share a weighty look as Maddie appears in the
doorway, a look that contains a promise not to let this drop. With all four
Porter women assembled, it looks like the night can finally begin.

We fall into superficial conversation, all of us a bit on
edge. I find myself zoning out of the chatter, wondering when Finn is going to
get home. How can I already feel so much more comfortable around him than I do
my own family?

“I think it
’
s very smart of you,
getting some extra credits over the summer,” Mom says to Sophie as I wrangle my
attention back to the conversation at hand.

“I just want the option of graduating early, if anything
good comes up,” Sophie replies, swirling her wine, “Acting apprenticeships are
pretty competitive. If I snag a good one in the middle of senior year, I want
to be able to grab it.”

“Campus must be pretty quiet in the summer,” Mom observes
brightly, “I
’
m sure it
’
ll be relaxing
to get some alone time.”

“Not that you
’
ll be entirely without
company,” I say absentmindedly. It isn’t until Sophie shoots me a sharp look
that I realize my mistake. Finn told me the other day that Luke is going to be
spending the rest of the summer back at Sheridan University, just like Sophie.
Looks like I may have blown her spot.

“Oh! Will some of your friends be doing the summer session
too?” Mom coos at Sophie, “How fun!”

“Uh. Kind of,” Sophie murmurs, looking away, “It, uh, turns
out that Luke is going to be TA-ing some more classes this session…
And he
’
s going to be an RA, too.”

“RA? What
’
s that?” Mom asks.

“A resident assistant,” Sophie says blankly, “It means he
’
ll be living in the dorms, too. Making sure us kiddos don
’
t get into any trouble.”

“Get out,” Mom cries excitedly, “That is so, so wonderful.
And here I thought all you kids were going to go your separate ways after this
week. I
’
m so glad you two will get to keep on being
friends.”

I look over at Robin, studying her wine-flushed face. What
does she mean, “keep on being friends?” That makes it sound like the guys and I
won’t have any other reason to keep in touch after this vacation. If she and
John had plans to stay together, surely she’d just take for granted that we’d
stay in touch with the boys. I try to feel her out.

“I guess Sophie and Luke will have to be the ones keeping in
touch for all us, huh?” I say, trying to lead her on, “Since the rest of us
will be going home after this?”

“Seems that way,”
Maddie
says woodenly.
She’s barely said a word since stepping out onto the veranda, but that’s hardly
noteworthy. Of all us girls, Maddie has the most turbulent relationship with
Mom, hands down. Not that Mom seems perturbed by Maddie’s silence. In fact,
Robin looks like she’s on the brink of bursting with excitement.

“Well, actually…” she says, grinning conspiratorially, “I
wanted to talk to you girls about just that.”

I wrap my fingers tightly around my wineglass, preparing
myself. We’re about to get to the heart of whatever it is Mom assembled us all
here for. All I can hope for now is that the news won’t be as disastrous as I
fear.

“What
’
s up, Mom?
”
Sophie prompts her.

“
Well,
” Mom begins theatrically,
smoothing out her skirt, “I know I told you that my plan for this summer, was
to spend a little time getting grounded in my hometown before going back to
Vermont. Really, I just wanted a couple of weeks away from it all. At first.”

At first?

“Are you staying for longer, then?” I ask, confused, “Did
you find another place to rent in town or something?”

“Or something,” Mom grins, as cold dread gathers in my gut.
“Actually…God, I feel like a teenager again, dishing with you girls like this.
But actually, things have been going so well for me and John here that he
’
s…he
’
s invited me to stay!”

I stare at her, uncomprehending.
Refusing
to
comprehend what it is she’s telling us.

“You mean like, for another couple of weeks…?”
Maddie asks.

“And another, and another,” Robin sighs.

“Mom, just cut to the chase, OK?” Sophie snaps, infuriated,
“Exactly how long are you going to stay here playing house with John?”

“Watch your tone,” Mom spits back venomously. “But since you
ask, I
’
m planning on staying indefinitely.”

Indefinitely? But that’s impossible. Mom doesn’t do
“indefinitely”. She doesn’t do commitment. I look around at my sister’s
horrified faces, hoping that I’ve misunderstood.

“But…You don
’
t live here,” I say
feebly, “You live in Vermont. In our house. The house we
’
ve
always lived in.”