Stepbrother Backstage (The Hawthorne Brothers Book 3) (17 page)

I have no idea how late it is when Finn finally steals me
away through the backstage curtain. Our bodies come together the second we’re
out of sight, our hands tearing through layers of clothing as we stumble into
the tiny makeshift dressing room in back. I gasp as Finn spins me around and
pushes me up against the wooden door, tugging down my panties and letting me
feel the enormity of his need as he presses it between my legs.

“Now this feels rock and roll…” I grin over my shoulder, my
words giving way to a long, low moan as Finn drives his staggering cock into me
from behind.

“Fucking right,” he growls, pinning my wrists above my heads
as he winds up and thrusts even deeper.

Our cries are masked by the roar of music and conversation
from the bar proper, and thank god too. There’s no way I could keep my voice
down—not with Finn giving me the full rock star treatment. That momentous shift
I felt coming on as I showed up at the bar winds up to knock me for a loop.

Good thing I have Finn to hold onto through it all.

***

A narrow pane of gray morning light is the first thing I see
upon waking. The small dressing room window, smeared and dusty, lets in only a
dull glow. Finn stirs in his sleep, tightening his muscled arm around my waist.
We’re lying together on the well-worn dressing room couch, curled up and spent
from our night of drinking, celebrating, and fucking on every available surface
in this tiny room.

It’s not a bad way to spend a Saturday night, if I do say so
myself.

“Don’t move,” Finn murmurs, holding me close as I start to
sit up.

“I was just going to try and locate my bra,” I whisper,
planting a sleepy kiss on his cheek.

“Later,” he says, “I’m not done with you yet…”

I laugh as his hands rake down along my body, though he’s
still half asleep.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” I ask, slipping out from
under his arm.

“You’re one to talk,” he shoots back, surrendering to the
start of a new day.

My body aches in the satisfied morning-after way as I move
about the small room, trying to find my various articles of clothing. Thank god
there’s a lock on the dressing room door. I wouldn’t want some poor bar-back
to stumble upon this scene.

“I was thinking about setting up some more solo gigs, now
that the seal is broken…” Finn says, stretching out on the couch.

“Yeah?” I ask, looking up in happy surprise.

“Yeah,” he confirms, “I’ve got a full set of my own stuff. I
think it’s time.”

“I think so too,” I tell him, “But…What are you going to
tell the band?”

Finn pauses before replying, pulling himself to sitting with
his feet firmly on the floor.

“My heart hasn’t been in The Few for a while now,” he says
evenly, resting his elbows on his knees, “I don’t think that Gabe and Buck have
been feeling it, either. We’ve all grown out of that sound, that life…”

“All of you except for Blaine,” I say carefully.

“Exactly,” Finn replies, shoving a hand through his hair,
“That guy really helped me out when I first showed up on the scene, but I can’t
let that blind me to who he really is. I can’t be someone’s prop for the rest
of my career, you know?”

“I do,” I tell him, sitting beside him on the couch. “To be
honest, I was thinking all the same things. I didn’t want to tell you how to
live your life, but…”

“You didn’t have to tell me. You showed me, instead,” Finn
says, taking my hand in his, “How can I ask you to stay out here with me when
all I can offer is a room in a frat house and the occasional shitty rock show?
Especially when that’s not even where I want to be.”

“Are you? Asking me to stay out here, I mean?” I say, taken
off guard.

“Oh…Shit. I botched that,” Finn chuckles, lacing his fingers
through mine.

“I know the feeling,” I say quietly, excitement mounting in
my core.

“Anna, I know we were sort of thrown into this whole
arrangement, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make it work,” Finn says, growing
serious once more. “I mean, you’ve taken to Portland so well, and you’re
getting all this freelance work. And if I could get established as a solo
artist out here…I think we could really have something awesome here.”

“I know we could,” I tell him, resting a hand on his
scruffy, sharp jaw. “I love it here, Finn. I want to stay.”

“That’s great,” he murmurs, pulling me into his lap,
“Because I don’t know how the hell I’d let you go if you didn’t.”

I let my eyes flutter closed as he kisses along my neck.
There’s just no keeping our hands off each other, it would seem. Why bother
trying to fight it? Though I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery, to be honest. I
think we’re out of surfaces here in the dressing room.

“Let’s go back to the house,” I tell him, running my fingers
through his hair, “You know I want you, but I could do without the couch
springs digging into my back.”

“Fair enough,” he says, giving my ass a firm squeeze before
setting me down.

We gather our things, recharged and ready to fall into bed
the second we get home. In the month we’ve known each other, we’ve yet to have
our fill of sexy times. Even when I’ve moved out here for good, I doubt we’ll
whet our appetites anything soon. A smile spreads across my face at the thought
of making my home here in Portland. I imagine the house Finn and I could afford
to rent on the south east side of the river, the adventures we could go on
around the state, the whole life we could make here, just the two of us. And to
think, it’s only just beginning.

I absentmindedly glance at my phone as we make our way into
the bar proper. Finn and I are the only ones here at this early hour, and our
footfalls echo as we walk across the main room toward the front door. There are
a couple more texts from Sophie that I missed last night. It looks like she and
Maddie had a great time at the ReImaged party, that’s for sure. My stomach
drops as I see the name attached to the latest message in my inbox.

It’s a text from my mother.

I pause, guilt and indignation warring for control of me.
Mom and I haven’t spoken in three weeks, since she dropped the bombshell about
her selling our home and moving to Montana for the foreseeable future. There
have been no calls to make sure I’m OK. No concerned voicemails asking after my
whereabouts. Nothing. She made good on her word and bowed out of our lives. As
if she didn’t do that a long time ago.

“What the matter?” Finn asks, seeing the disconcerted look
on my face.

“Text from Mom,” I reply tersely, not wanting her unwanted
communication to kill our good time.

“Shit,” Finn says, crossing his arms, “What does it say?”

“I haven’t opened it,” I tell him, “It’s probably just some
guilt-trippy bullshit.”

“Anna, come on,” Finn says, “I know you’re feeling bad about
how you left things with her. How we left things.”

“I just hate how she can derail me with one text,” I tell
him softly, “Why does she have this much of an effect on me?”

“She’s your Mom,” he shrugs, “Can’t erase that, you know?”

“How do you do it?” I ask, “Not think about your parents, I
mean?”

“What makes you think I’m not?” he replies quietly. “I just
have more practice hiding it than you.”

“Fair enough,” I sigh.

“Just see what she wants, so you can put it out of your
mind,” Finn says. “If you don’t, it’ll just be hanging over you.”

“You have been doing this for a while, huh?” I ask.

“You’re looking at a pro,” he smiles, “Now, go on.”

Begrudgingly, I look down at my phone and open the message
from my mother. It’s a group text to me, Sophie, and Maddie. At first I imagine
it might be some kind of blanket apology, or a clichéd quote about “a mother’s
love” that’s supposed to make everything better. But no—it’s actually a photo.
I peer down at the screen, trying to decipher what I’m even looking at. It’s an
out of focus shot of someone’s hand—
her
hand.

My heart recognizes what’s going on before my reluctant mind
does. But as desperately as my heart wants to ignore it, the facts send me
running in the opposite direction, my straightforward mind is having none of
it. I stare at the diamond sparkling on my mother’s ring finger, the
unmistakable signifier of a new life, a new beginning. The sort of beginning I
was supposed to have out here with Finn. Until, that is…

“What is it?” Finn asks, as I feel the blood run out of my
face. “Anna, what—?”

Unable to speak, I hand him my phone instead, staring
blankly at his face as he glances down at the picture and realizes what’s
happened to us. It isn’t until he looks back up at me with dark, hopeless eyes
that I accept what’s happening as real. My mom in engaged. To Finn’s father.
They’re going to get married, and make me and Finn into step-siblings. Not
almost-siblings, but the real thing.

It’s over,
I tell myself, feeling my heart strain at
the seams,
It’s all over.

“Let’s go,” Finn growls, grabbing my hand and pulling toward
the door.

“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice hollow.

“Just come on, Anna,” he snaps, not even turning around.

“No,” I shoot back, yanking my arm away, “Not until we talk
about what we’re going to do, Finn.”

“What we’re going to do?” he echoes, fists clenched as he
whirls around to face me, “What the fuck do you think we can
do
, Anna?
They’ve fucked us. Completely fucked—”

“Finn, you have to calm down,” I say softly, shrinking back
from his furious rage. I’ve never seen him lose control like this before.

“Fuck that,” he roars, his eyes unfocused and furious, “Fuck
them
.”

“Finn!” I shriek, as he cocks back his fist, “Stop—”

But my plea comes too late. As if in slow motion, Finn’s
fist goes barreling through the air, straight through the glass plane of the
front door’s window. Shards of glass go flying as the window shatters, raining
down through the morning light. I leap away, to shocked to speak. Despite his
staggering form, impressive strength, and deep well of extreme emotion, I’ve
never once been afraid of Finn.

Not until now, that is.

Finn stands rooted to the floor, his shoulders heaving as he
stares down at the shattered glass, the bloody cuts streaking across his hand.
In this moment, I barely recognize him. Outrage and loathing have transformed
him before my very eyes. It isn’t until he lifts his gaze to mine that I see
the pain and sorrow flowing beneath that white hot anger.  And it’s in
that moment that my heart finally rips down the middle.

“You’re bleeding,” I gasp through tears, rushing toward him
across the bar.

“It’s fine,” he mutters, tearing off his flannel shirt and
wrapping it around his hand, “I just need to get out of here.”

“Wait,” I whisper, tears streaming down my cheeks. With no
better ideas, I trail Finn out of the bar and step into the breaking day. I
stop in my tracks as he heads over to his old motorcycle and swings himself
onto it.

“You can’t drive right now,” I tell him, aghast.

“Fuck if I can’t,” he replies, holding the spare helmet out
to me.

“You’re hurt, Finn. You’re upset,” I protest, reaching for
his arm.

“Fucking right I’m upset,” he says impatiently, shaking me
off, “Aren’t you?”

“Of course,” I tell him, “Which is why I think we should
just…I don’t know. Walk it off. Talk about what’s happened. Our parents just
got engaged for fuck’s sake. We—”

“Walk it off,” he scoffs meanly, “
Talk
about it.
That’s not how I deal with my shit, Anna.”

“No,” I reply heatedly, “You’d rather punch in windows and
act like a macho asshole.”

His eyes harden as he stares at me, and I instantly regret
my words. We need to be on the same team, now more than ever, not start tearing
each other down.

“Finn…” I say quietly, trying to take his hand, “I’m sorry.
I shouldn’t—”

But the sudden roar of his engine coming to life cuts me off
mid-apology. I leap back as he reverses into the parking lot, eyes averted
coldly from my face. Without another word, he snaps down the visor of his
helmet and tears off at top speed, leaving me to gape after him from the curb.
Alone.

Numbly, I pick up my helmet from where Finn cast it aside on
the pavement and cradle it to my chest. My head throbs as I turn slowly and
walk around to the front of The Bearded Bird. I step over the broken shards of
glass that litter the sidewalk and walk up to my borrowed bicycle. Careful not
to ride over the glass, I walk my bike down to the street and hop unsteadily
on.

I have no idea where Finn’s headed now, but he has to go
home eventually. And when he does get home, that’s where he’ll find me waiting.
Our world may be crumbling, but that’s not enough reason to give up on each
other. Not if I have any say in the matter.

Chapter Eleven

The wheels of the blue bicycle spin in the air as I let it
fall onto the front lawn of the old Victorian house. Sprinting up the sloped
lawn, I hope against all odds that Finn came back here straight from the bar.
Wrenching open the front door, I bolt into the house and start tearing through
the communal spaces, searching for Finn.

“Finn?” I call out, looking around the empty kitchen, the
quiet backyard, the cluttered living room. “Finn, are you here?”

But there’s no answer to be heard. In fact, I don’t come
across anyone as I make my way through the house. The guys must all still be
sleeping it off wherever they passed out the night before. Suddenly, the
hedonistic lifestyle I’ve been surrounded by since moving out to Portland feels
oppressive and irresponsible. In times of crisis like this, you need a safe,
stable place to regroup. And right now, I have no such place to return to. The
only safe space I can think of is Finn’s embrace—but right now, that feels as
remote as anything.

I finally make it all the way up to our attic bedroom,
praying that I’ll find Finn standing there with arms wide open. But when I step
through the doorway, I’m greeted with the sight of an empty room, and nothing
more. Padding across the hardwood floor, I make my way over to the bed Finn and
I have shared for the past three weeks. I sink down onto the well-worn quilt,
curling up on my side as tears stream down my face. As I bury my face in a soft
pillow, the smell of Finn overtakes my senses.

For the first time since opening that text from my mother, I
feel truly helpless.

“Don’t be sad, babe,” a sneering voice says from the
doorway, “I’m here, now.”

I sit bolt upright, startled by the sudden intrusion. Blaine
leans against the doorframe, his dark hair bundled into an unwashed bun on top
of his head. His eyes are bloodshot, and the stubble on his cheeks has
progressed into a sloppy beard. All told, he looks like shit.

“I didn’t know anyone was home,” I say, hastily wiping the
tears from my eyes.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day,” Blaine replies, his voice
slurring. Is he still drunk at seven in the morning?

“I wouldn’t say that,” I mutter, rising to my feet. I may
feel like crawling into bed and bawling my eyes out, but not while Blaine and I
are in the house alone.

“Aww. Did you and Finn have a fight or something?” Blaine
says mockingly, taking a swinging step into the room.

“No,” I say firmly, alarm bells ringing in my ears, “No,
actually he’s getting home any minute now, so—”

“Why are you lying to me, Princess?” Blaine asks, advancing
toward me, “No one’s coming home anytime soon.”

“I’m n-not lying,” I stammer, betraying my misgivings. I’ve
never trusted Blaine, but this is the first time I’ve had reason to feel
threatened. I curse myself for not
listening to
Maddie’s perpetual advice to carry pepper spray at all times. I could use some
right now.

“Don’t be nervous, now…” Blaine says, a sickening smile
spreading across his face as he backs me across the room, “I know you’ve been
eyeing me since you got here. But don’t worry, us guys are used to sharing.
Finn won’t even be mad.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I say
decisively, drawing myself up to my full height, “But I’m gonna need you to
back up, Blaine.”

“So that’s how you want to play this?” he laughs, looking
down at me with unfocused, crazed eyes, “Fine. I don’t mind a little game of
cat and mouse. Just as long as you know I’m gonna win in the end.”

“Get away from me,” I tell him in no uncertain terms, “I’m
not interested in you, Blaine.”

“But I’m interested in you,” He insists as my back hits the
bedroom wall, “And that’s all that really matters in the end.”

“Stop it,” I tell him, my voice rising as he bears down on
me, “Or I swear to god—”

“I don’t wanna hear another word out of you,” Blaine snarls,
grabbing my face with painful force, “You can put that mouth to much better
use.”

My body goes rigid with terror as he pulls my face toward
his, boxing me in with no way of escape. I will myself to scream, or spit, or
punch him in the face, but I can’t make myself budge. I know about fight or flight—so
why am I freezing instead? I watch as if from outside of my own body as Blaine
pulls me irrevocably closer.

“What the fuck is this?” a female voice says from behind
Blaine’s hulking form.

He whips around, giving me a clear view of the threshold.
Natasha is standing there in last night’s party dress, her makeup-smeared face
twisted with outrage. Her eyes swing back and forth between me and Blaine, who
seems too surprised to bother defending himself. My body rallies at his moment
of unguardedness, and I bring my heel down hard on the top of his bare foot. He
howls in pain as I dash past him, finally free.

“Natasha,” I breathe, stopping before the woman standing in
the doorway. “He was…This…I didn’t…”

“I know,” she says, taking in the horrified look on my face,
“Don’t worry, Anna. I know.”

“You should get out of here,” I tell her, looking back at
Blaine as he staggers to his feet.

“Oh, I will,” she assures me, slipping a stiletto off her
foot and taking aim at the lumbering man before her, “As soon as I give this
fucker a piece of my mind.”

She sends the shoe flying across the room, right at Blaine’s
head. With no doubts whatsoever about Natasha’s ability to take care of
herself, I grab my backpack and bolt out of the room, head down the stairs, and
stagger out onto the front porch of the house. My hands and knees are shaking
uncontrollably as I gulp down huge breaths of air. I feel completely unmoored,
pulled up by the roots by the events of this morning. I can’t even turn to Finn
now—I have no idea where he is.

In this lowest, darkest moment, my next move materializes
with perfect clarity. I know, at last, exactly what I need to do.

Whipping out my cell phone, I pull up a new text and enter
my sisters’ names.

“Do you guys have room for
me in Seattle?”
I type, hurrying back over to my borrowed bicycle.

“Of course,”
Maddie
replies a minute later,
“But do you really
want to come all the way back out here?”

“I’m actually not as far
as you think,”
I tell them, pulling up a map of Portland on my phone to
search for the nearest bus station.

“Then what are you waiting
for?”
Sophie adds to the group text,
“Get
the hell over here.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I hop on the bike and
take off down Hawthorne Street, gunning for the next bus to Seattle. We may not
have a good track record of taking care of each other in the past, but my
sisters and I are sure as hell coming together now. There’s too much riding on
this for all of us to try and go it alone.

***

I hardly move a muscle during the nearly four hour bus ride
from Portland to Seattle. Moving might give way to thinking, which might give
way to feeling. And after everything that happened this morning, I just don’t
think I can stand another twinge of emotion right now. But despite my best
efforts to hold my feelings at bay, I’m a goner as I step off the rickety bus
and spot my two sisters waiting for me on the sidewalk.

A wrenching sob rises in my throat as I run to them,
dropping my backpack as they enclose me in their arms. I can’t tell where each
of us ends and the next begins as we stand huddled in front of the bus station.
For the longest moment, no one says a word. It’s enough to simply hold each
other.

That is, until some smart ass whistles at us and hollers
something about an orgy.

“Piss off, buddy!” Sophie yells back, flashing the
cat-caller double birds as he beats a hasty retreat.

“Let’s get out of here before Sophie pummels somebody into
the ground,” Maddie says, handing me my backpack. “My apartment’s not far.”

I barely register the new city rising up around me as I
follow my sisters like a puppy dog through the streets of Seattle. We’ve got
plenty of talking to do between the three of us, but I wouldn’t mind a place to
sit and a stiff drink before we get into it. And once we scale the five flights
of stairs leading up to Maddie’s studio apartment, I find that at least one of
those needs is sure to be met.

“Red or white?” Maddie says before anything else, snatching
two fresh bottles of wine off the kitchen counter.

“Yes please,” I reply, falling heavily onto her couch and
peering around the space.

I’ve never set foot in Maddie’s apartment before, never even
visited her out here in Seattle, though it’s been her home for years. I feel
like an archeologist, looking around at the evidence of my big sister’s life
out here on the West Coast. But as foreign as her world still is to me, it
feels as though the distance between the three of us has collapsed. Sophie and
I sit huddled on the couch, any hard feelings that built up during the week at
the lake house forgotten. And when Maddie joins us, juggling three gigantic
wine glasses and a bottle of Pinot Noir, it’s like we’ve never spent any time
apart.

I guess misery really does love company. Company and lots of
wine, that is.

“Should we toast to the happy couple?” Sophie asks
sardonically, raising her hefty glass.

“Too soon, Soph,” I mutter, cradling my own glass of red.

“Thanks as ever, for ripping the Band-Aid off,” Maddie says
sarcastically.

“No use beating around the bush, is there?” Sophie counters,
“We don’t have time to be delicate about what’s happened.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right,” Maddie sighs, “It’s
just hard to know where to even begin with all this.”

There are so many secrets and lies of omission towering
between the three of us like a precarious house of cards. No one wants to show
their card first and bring the whole thing toppling down. But then again, the
only way to rebuild is to destroy what’s come before.

“You guys,” I say, taking a deep breath, “There’s
uh…Something I have to tell you, before we get into the Mom and John
situation.”

“What is it, Anna?” Maddie asks.

“Does it have to do with why you were in Portland instead of
Vermont?” Sophie adds.

“Yes,” I say, bracing myself, “I was in Portland because
Finn asked me to come with him, after that night at the lake house.”

“You’ve been with Finn this whole time?” Maddie asks, eyes
wide.

“I have,” I tell her, “I’ve been staying at the house his
band shares.”

“Did you guys get to be…friends? While we were in Montana?”
Sophie asks slowly.

“…You could say that,” I answer softly, taking a big gulp of
wine.

“What would
you
say?” Maddie presses, as my sisters
lean forward.

“I would say that. Um. Finn and I are…Together,” I tell
them, struggling to find words that feel close to sufficient. “We’ve pretty
much been together this whole time.”

For a long moment, Sophie and Maddie simply stare at me,
wide-eyed and unmoving. My stomach clenches with wary anticipation. What if
I’ve misjudged their ability to understand and be cool about this? What if
they’re going to tell me I’m horrible, and disgusting, and—

“Wh-what the hell?” I splutter, as they break into
uproarious laughter.

“You’re—you’re shitting us, right?!” Sophie cackles, falling
back against the couch.

“No, I’m not!” I reply heatedly, “And you’re one to talk.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, gasping for air between peals
of laughter.

“Could you have
been
any more obvious about the fact
that you and Luke were hooking up?” I say pointedly, crossing my arms.

That
shuts her up.

“You know about me and Luke?” she asks, sitting up straight.

“Of course I do,” I say, “Did you think you were being
subtle or something?”

Maddie tries and fails to stifle her laughter, though now
it’s at Sophie’s expense.

“Don’t you go looking at smug,” Sophie says to Maddie, “The
only reason no one suspected you, is because you and Cash are the least likely
couple on the planet.”

I whip around to face my oldest sister, jaw hanging open as
a hot blush rises in her face.

“
What?!
” I cry, feeling like I’ve just been punched
in the gut.

“Whatever happened to easing her into this, Sophie?” Maddie
hisses.

“Apparently subtlety isn’t my thing,” Sophie glowers, taking
a swig of wine.

“You—you’re both—” I splutter, whipping back and forth to
face each of my sisters in turn, “You’re
both
getting it on with one of
Finn’s brothers?!”

“That’s the short version of things, yes,” Sophie replies,
giving me a pat on the thigh.

“Here’s the slightly longer version,” Maddie says, tucking
her shoulder-length hair behind her ears and diving in. I gape in silence as my
sisters regale me with the stories of their own Hawthorne brother romances.

Maddie tells me all about meeting Cash in a roadside bar on
her way to Montana from Seattle, their instant, unexpected chemistry, her
horror upon realizing that our mother was shacked up with his father only when
Cash roared up on his ATV and surprised her. She explains that she had every
intention of leaving the lake house that first night, but that Cash convinced
her to stay. That though they separated for a week after the big fight with our
parents, Maddie’s best friend contrived to have ReImaged hire Cash for an ad
campaign, thus delivering him to Seattle. They’ve been living together in this
little studio ever since, keeping their relationship a secrer, not only from
their families, but from their coworkers as well.

For her part, Sophie reveals that she did indeed know Luke
back at Sheridan University. He was her economics TA, turned friends with
benefits way before they ran into each other at the lake house and discovered
their unknown connection. Unable and unwilling to call off their courtship,
they carried on in secret just like Maddie and Cash. They too tried to walk
away from each other after the blowup that sent us all running from the lake
house, but with a little help from their big siblings, Sophie and Luke reunited
just last night at the big ReImaged party. Of course, I’ve had my suspicions
about Sophie and Luke this whole time, but I just figured they were hooking up.
I couldn’t know about the deep connection they’ve forged, or the trust and
understanding Maddie and Cash have happened upon, either.