Stepbrother Backstage (The Hawthorne Brothers Book 3) (51 page)

I stare at Danny for a long, hard moment as his words hit
home. With slow deliberation, I take my hands from his, reach across the table,
and pull my plate back toward me. A smile blooms across my face as I pick up my
gigantic, glorious burrito and take a monster-sized bite out of it.

“That’s my girl,” Danny crows, thumping his fist on the
table, “Sophie Porter rides again!”

“You’d better believe it, buddy,” I reply, tucking into my
meal.

Deep down, I know that this new I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude
is an act. My bruised heart still aches for Luke with every single beat. But
maybe if I really commit to pretending like I’m OK, I’ll actually start to feel
a little better. Maybe a little “method acting” is exactly what’s called for,
here. That and another order of tortilla chips, that is.

A couple hours later, I arrive back at my dorm room with a
full belly, a nice buzz, and a newfound determination to make the most of this
summer. With or, more likely, without Luke Hawthorne to share it. I flop down
on my bed and go to set an early alarm on my cell phone—I want to have enough
time in the morning for a nice long run before the first day of summer classes.

Unbidden, the memory of racing through the woods with Luke
as my guide rises in my mind’s eye. I see his tanned, broad shoulders moving
rhythmically as his strong, balanced figure leads me forward. I see his wide
grin, his sharp scruffy jaw, that sweep of chestnut hair backlit by the
breaking day as we reach the summit. And of course, I see him lowering that
perfect body to mine, feel the enormity of him parting me, filling me, making
me whole…

“No,” I mutter to myself in the dark, empty dorm room, “You
can cut that shit out, right now.”

Maybe just pretending like I’m over Luke isn’t going to be
enough, here. Maybe I need to actually do something about it. It’s been a week
since I’ve seen him, and I’ve had no word from him at all. I haven’t made any
contact either, but I’m not the one who bailed. The ball has been in his court
to open the lines of communication. But you know what? I think it’s about time
I took that ball and headed on home.

I set my jaw and open up a new message on my phone, entering
Luke’s number. Without taking a spare moment to think, lest I lose my nerve, I
write:

Me: Hey Luke. Just wanted
to let you know that everything is good here. My wrist is even healed. Thank
you for all your help, and for getting me back here safely. I was upset to see
you go, but I understand that it’s for the best. You’re right—carrying on any
further is just asking for trouble. I won’t come chasing after you or anything
crazy like that, I just want you to know that I loved getting to know and spend
time with you, however short that time seemed. Take care of yourself.

I let my phone fall onto the bed as I roll onto my side,
hugging my knees to my chest. Where will Luke even be when he gets my message?
Back at the lake house? Out on the road? Across the country? I haven’t the
slightest idea. My head jerks up as I hear my phone ping softly, and see Luke’s
name attached to a new text. I snatch up the phone, holding my breath as I take
in his response.

Luke: Good to know. Have a
good summer.

A rasping laugh escapes my throat as I read his text. Have a
good summer? That’s the sort of thing an acquaintance would write in someone’s
high school year book—and a passing acquaintance at that. He’s treating me just
like he used to, back when he was nothing more than my sexy TA—with cool
nonchalance. Amiable disinterest. Well, fine. Like Danny said, there’s nothing
I can do to control his actions from here on out. If he’s going to treat me
like a stranger, I just have to accept it.

…But that still doesn’t keep the silent tears from streaming
down my face as I sink into a numb, dreamless sleep.

Chapter Twelve

Against all odds, I find myself settling into a new routine
as summer classes commence. For nine hours a day, I attended workshops and
one-on-one training sessions with an incredible group of teachers, including my
beloved (if occasionally prickly) movement instructor, Gary, who’s running the
show. There are only eight of us students who were selected to take part in
these rigorous classes, and by the end of each day I’m too exhausted to dwell
on my stalled love life, the impending sale of my childhood home, or anything
else that’s going on beyond the walls of Sheridan. Sure, I’ll have to deal with
all of those things someday. But for the next couple of weeks, I at least get
to set my baggage down for a spell.

At the end of the first two weeks of summer classes, all
eight of us students are supposed to have a private meeting with Gary to
discuss our progress so far. I head over to his office in the performing arts
building at the end of the day on Friday, excited to talk about what I’m
learning as a performer in this intensive atmosphere. Gary’s alone in his
office when I arrive, his balding head bent over his desk. I rap my knuckles on
the open door.

“Hey Gare,” I smile brightly, “How’s tricks?”

“Oh. Sophie. Good,” he says, having none of my sunny
disposition, “Come on in and close the door, would you?”

I do as he says, slightly put off by his less-than-enthusiastic
tone. My teacher’s eyes follow me as I cross the room and settle into a chair
before him. I thought these were going to be informal little check-ins, but I
feel as though I’m on trial.

“So…” I begin stiltedly, “What’s the diagnosis, Dr.?”

Gary folds his hand over his slight paunch, leaning back in
his chair and appraising me.

“You’ve been getting glowing reviews from the other
instructors,” he tells me point-blank, “They’ve been very impressed with your
work so far, Sophie. Your acting teacher, Karen Krause, is particularly
interested in you.”

I sit up a little straighter in my chair. Karen Krause is
one of our guest artists this summer. Back in New York, she’s the artistic
director of one of the city’s most exciting experimental theatre companies.
Being in her good graces is a huge deal.

“This isn’t exactly public information,” Gary goes on, “But
Karen isn’t just here as an instructor this summer. She’s scouting the eight of
you Sheridan kids for a spot in her apprentice company this coming fall. If
accepted, you’d be living in New York for at least a year. You could get school
credit for taking part and meet your graduation requirements on the other side
of the country. It would be an incredible opportunity. And Karen has told me
that you, above all the other students, are the person she has in mind for the
spot.”

My jaw falls open as I struggle to comprehend what Gary is
telling me. I can feel my mind rebelling against the information, because it
seems far too good to be true. Living in New York City, working with a
professional theatre company, all while finishing up my degree here at
Sheridan? That would be absolutely perfect. Maybe Anna could even come live
with me? God knows, New York is a dream for any photographer…

My fanciful daydreaming grinds to a halt as I take in the
look on Gary’s face. He’s practically grimacing at me.

“Isn’t this…good news?” I ask him tentatively, “Why do you
look like you want to drop kick me out of your office?”

“I’m…concerned. About you,” Gary goes on measuredly, his
fingers steepled against his lips.

“Why?” I ask, cocking my head, “I’m doing fine, Gary. You
just said, all the other instructors are happy with my work. What’s the
problem?”

“I did say that all the
other
instructors were happy
with you,” Gary prods.

“…But not you,” I reply, disappointed.

“Not me,” Gary goes on, “Over the past three years, I’ve
gotten to see you grow immensely as a performer. You came to me as an angry,
closed off little girl with no interest in connecting to anyone. But you’ve
worked like mad to open up, let other people in, be vulnerable. You’re far from
perfect as a performer. You’re unpredictable at times, you’ve got some bad
habits to shake, but what I love about you is that you’re honest. You’re raw,
and messy, and real. At least, you
were.
Up until a few weeks ago.”

“I…I don’t understand,” I murmur, looking down at my hands.

“Something has changed in you, since you’ve been away,” Gary
says with frank honesty, “Don’t get me wrong, you’re still a perfectly
competent performer. The best in your class, even. You’ve shown great technical
skill these past couple of weeks, everything by the book, on point. But you
know something, Sophie? Perfect isn’t you. Safe isn’t you. And I worry that if
people start rewarding you for the work you’re doing now, with apprenticeships
and praise and whatever, you’ll stop growing. And if you stop growing, I’m
afraid you’ll never become as great a performer as you have the potential to
be.”

“Are you just saying this because you want me to stay here
in Montana?” I ask hopefully.

“You know I’d never try to keep you here out of
selfishness,” Gary says firmly, “I know this is all difficult to hear, but I
need you to listen to me now. It’s not too late for you to course correct,
here. You’ve thrown up the defenses around your heart again since you’ve been
gone, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep them up forever. I don’t know
what’s happening in your life, or what has you so scared, but you need to face it,
Sophie. And soon.”

Hot tears prick at my eyes as I look away from my teacher.
He’s seen right through me, as usual. Why did I think I could hide anything
from him?

“What if…I’m not strong enough to face it?” I ask him
softly, “I’ve only just barely started working through what’s already happened
to me, to my family…I’m afraid that if I let myself get hurt again, I’ll be
back to square one.”

“What do we always say around here, Sophie?” Gary says,
“Follow the fear…”

“…If you want to find the truth,” I finish, blinking back my
tears.

He’s right, of course. I’ve been barreling along, refusing
to deal with what’s happened between me and Luke. Refusing to deal with the
loss of him, just like I refused to deal with losing my dad at first. It’s a
different sort of loss, but no less real. And no less destructive, if left
unchecked. 

“You can do this, Sophie,” Gary goes on, “You owe it to
yourself to chase down the truth. That’s the only way you’re ever really going
to be happy.”

I know whose lead to follow, if I want to find my truth. The
problem is, I have no idea where to find him.

I offer Gary a murmured goodbye and hurry out of the office.
My cheeks are flushed with embarrassment at being called out by my favorite
teacher. I’ve disappointed him, and disappointed myself. I thought I was doing
such a good job at moving on from Luke, but all I’ve really been doing is
shutting out any passing thought of him. I’ve been holding my need of him at
bay, denying how much his departure really hurt me. And it’s only now that I
realize how exhausted I’ve become with the effort.

Bursting out of the performing arts building, I gulp down
huge swallows of fresh air, trying to keep my tears at bay. But it’s no use. I
stumble forward, steadying myself against a park bench overlooking the grassy
Sheridan lawns as I give into my sadness at last. My shoulders shake as I sink
down onto the bench, burying my face in my hands. Warm July sunlight kisses my
bare shoulders, but I only feel a numb chill. I have to face the facts—I’ve
completely messed up any chance at being with Luke. Why didn’t I just tell him
the truth, when he left me here that night? Why didn’t I say that I wanted him
to stay, no matter what? For someone so allergic to bullshit, I’ve sure been
doling out my fair share of it lately.

I jump as my cell starts to chime in my purse. Sniffling
morosely, I dig the device out and check the caller ID. It’s Maddie. I let out
a huge sigh, sinking back against the bench. Maddie only ever calls me for two
reasons—in case of family emergency, or to complain about Mom. And to be
honest, I’m hardly in the mood for either just now. But then again, this is the
first time I’ve had an actual call from either of my sisters in weeks. The most
I’ve gotten are vague, perfunctory texts. I can’t ignore this.

“H-hey Maddie,” I say, picking up the call, “What’s up?”

“Hey Sophie…Are you OK?” my big sister replies over the
line, “You sound like you’re coming down with something.”

“No, no,” I say quickly, my voice thickening. The one
surefire way to get me crying is to give me an opening by asking what’s wrong.
I try and outrun the next wave of tears, but it’s no use.

“Soph, what’s the matter?” Maddie asks softly, as I try and
stifle my sobs, “What’s going on?”

“It’s st-stupid,” I blubber, thanking my lucky stars that
the campus is nearly empty. I’d be quite the sight to come upon right now.
“Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t not worry,” Maddie tells me, “You’re my little
sister. Did something happen at school? Is it a guy? Is it a family thing?”

A little bit of all three,
I think sullenly.

“Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me, right?” Maddie
presses on, “I know we haven’t always been super close, but this has been such
a crazy couple of weeks. And I… I don’t think there’s anyone else in the world who
can understand what we’re going through right now except each other. We Porter
women have to stick together at times like this.”

I bite my lip, leaving my sister hanging on the line. With
the way everything imploded at the lake house, I almost forgot that Luke and I
were getting ready to let our secret slip to our siblings. It would be such a
relief to tell Maddie about what’s been going on. And now that Luke has ghosted
out of my life, what’s the point in keeping our secret for another second?

“Sophie? Are you still there?” Maddie asks.

“Yeah. Sorry. I was just…It’s kind of a long story,” I tell
her, shoving a hand through my hair.

“It’s OK. I’m listening,” she assures me.

“Well…” I begin as my heart jackhammers in my chest, “I
guess you could say that I’m having a spot of guy trouble. And not just any
guy, either. I… Christ, this is going to sound insane—”

“Sophie,” Maddie cuts in gently, “Is the guy Luke?”

My jaw falls into my lap at my sister’s words.

“I—What—How did you—?” I sputter.

“Holy crap,” she breathes, “Cash was right!”

“Cash? What does Cash have to do with anything?” I demand,
leaping to my feet, “And how did you know about—?”

“Cash was totally onto you guys by the time we left the lake
house. And I have to say, I had my suspicions too,” Maddie tells me, “You could
barely look at him without blushing. So, what’s the real story Soph?”

I’m too stunned to deny anything. “Luke wasn’t just some guy
I’d seen around Sheridan,” I tell my sister, “He was my TA this past semester.
I sort of had a thing for him the whole time he was my teacher. And…Uh…The
feeling was mutual.”

“That is so much juicer than what I imagined,” Maddie says
excitedly, “Go on!”

“Okay…” I continue, “Well, right after the semester ended,
we sort of hooked up.”

“What!”

“…In a bar bathroom.”

“
What
?!”

“And the only reason we didn’t get it on right then and
there is because Luke had to save me and my best friend from getting beat up by
a bunch of skinheads.”

“WHAT?!”

“So, yeah,” I go on, “We were already sort of a thing before
I left for the lake house. But I had no idea until I got there that Luke was
John’s son. We were both completely blindsided. And we just… Thought it would
be better to keep it a secret, and just pick up once we were back at Sheridan.
So we just spent the week sneaking around, trying not to get caught.”

“Your sneaking could use some work,” Maddie tells me.

“I’m getting that, yeah,” I laugh wryly, “But I mean, it’s
not like it even matters now.

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, ‘why not’?” I shoot back, “Because of Mom
and John. Their choice to shack up for good totally ruined any chance Luke and
I had of picking things up when we got back here. We both thought for sure
they’d break up, but instead Mom gets a set of keys to the place? Now, instead
of spending the summer with Luke, I’m just here licking my wounds on my own—”

“Wait. I don’t understand. Luke isn’t with you?” Maddie
asks.

“Of course not,” I tell her, “He dropped me off at campus
and split. It’s not like we could just pretend like everything was OK and stay
together like a normal couple.”

“But…It sounds like that’s exactly what you want to do,”
Maddie points out.

“Sure, in a perfect world,” I scoff.

“You don’t have to laugh it off,” she tells me, “It’s not
ridiculous.”

“I’m sorry…Were you not there for the part where his dad and
our mom are an item?” I reply, “In what universe is it OK for us to go on—”

“Man, and here I thought you were supposed to be the
free-loving hippie in the family,” Maddie laughs, “How am
I
the one
telling
you
not to be a prude now?” 

“That’s…a very good question,” I say slowly, planting a hand
on my hip, “Why aren’t you freaking out about all this? The Maddie I know would
be telling me I’m a perverted sex fiend right now. What the hell gives?”

Maddie sighs on the other end of the line.

“Let’s just say…I kind of know what you’re going through,”
she tells me.

“Wh-what?” I stammer. “What do you…?”

And then it hits me. The scene I witnessed that last night
at the lake, when the pickup drove off leaving a devastated Maddie in its dust.
I thought she was just upset about Mom’s behavior, and our house getting sold
off, but really…