Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel) (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

I punch the numbers into the spreadsheet again. I'm going to
have to ask my dad for some money, is what it comes down to. Some of the other
rich kids I grew up with had a trust fund to look forward to when they hit
twenty-one, but not me. I know that I could ask Jack for money, but I don't
want to make him responsible for me. He's always been so careful with his
money, living off his signing bonuses so he doesn't even have to touch his base
salary.
It's OK to ask your father for money for college, people do it all
the time
, I remind myself.

Maybe I can return some of the Christmas presents I got for
cash. That cashmere sweater that my father's assistant picked out as his gift
to me must be worth something. But it would really be a drop in the bucket
compared to the cost of tuition. I'm just going to ask. And if he says no,
fine. I'll just leave it at that. It can't hurt to ask.

I gather my papers, knowing my father appreciates people who
are well-prepared, and head down the steps of the boat house. Carter emerges
from the den where he likes to sit and keep an eye on the backyard, now that
it's too cold to sit just outside my door. He catches up with me halfway across
the lawn, and I look down at his leg.

"How is it in the cold?"

"A little tight, but fine."

"Would you tell me if it weren't?"

"No. You going to ask him?"

"I have to. I used the last of my savings to pay off
the first installment of my tuition for the spring semester, and the next one
is due in three days."

"You know, I have some savings—"

"Carter. You are not using the money you earned by
fighting overseas to put me through college. But thank you for the offer."
I stop at the doors to my father's study. "OK, here I go." Carter
nods, and I knock. Through the glass, I see my father look up and frown, but he
waves me in. Carter stays outside, turning his back to the house to give us
privacy.

"What is it?" my father asks unceremoniously.

"I have a—something to discuss with you," I
fumble. I sit down, and put my papers in my lap then fold my hands over them.
"I know you were disappointed with me when I left college, and the truth
is, I was disappointed with myself. I've been looking into going back to
school, and I actually applied and got accepted to the University of South
Florida. I'm here because...because I need help with the tuition."

"You know I lost the tuition for your fall semester
when you left Duke," he says evenly, staring at me across his wide desk.

"I know. And again, I'm sorry. After I graduate
college, I'll be able to get a higher paying job and pay you back."

"I really can't see you holding down a job,
Alexa."

"I worked at the same bakery in Paris for almost
two—"

"A bakery. Not a real job."

"I couldn't get hired anywhere else at the time. But
with a college—"

"You always have an excuse ready for your behavior. Why
can't you be more like your brother?"

"Gigantic and capable of playing professional
football?"

"Do you really think this is an appropriate time for
jokes? This is the kind of thing I'm talking about. You wouldn't exactly fit in
in a professional environment. You can't quit a real job just because you want
to go shopping or you just don't feel like going in that day."

 I take a deep breath. "Dad, I know I've made some
mistakes, and I haven't always been that responsible, but I want to make
something of—"

"What about that William from the gala?"

I frown, completely thrown by the seeming change of topic.
"What about him?"

"He seemed interested."

"I—I don't...what are you suggesting?"

He sighs. "Well, your friend Nikki, she seems happy.
Don't you think you're more suited to that kind of life?"

"You mean, you think I should marry a rich guy and to
hell with my education?" I ask, my voice rising.

"Alexa, calm down."

"No, you can't do that! You insult me, purposefully
rile me up, and then tell me to calm down."

"You have control over your emotions, not me. Though I
know you come by them honestly."

"Meaning?"

"Jack got my drive and intelligence, and you got your
mother's emotionality."

I gasp, as though he slapped me. "What are you
suggesting? That I'm like her?"

"Am I really telling you something you don't know?

I stand up, tears stinging my eyes. "I'm stronger than
her, more resilient."

"Alexa, it's not an insult, just a statement of
fact." He's still sitting, completely relaxed, completely sure that he's
in the right. I look out the window and see Carter standing there, his back
still toward us, but his head slightly turned toward the glass. "You're
asking me to give you money for something that I don't think is a good
investment. You've proven time and again that you can't handle responsibility,
and you react with outsized emotion to everyday occurrences. Just like your
mother. Some people are too fragile for the real world."

"Got it," I whisper, my head spinning. "Thank
you for your time." I turn and head out the door to the house. I have to
get out of the room before I completely lose it. I shut the door behind me and
speed down the hallway, almost running.

I can't handle what I'm feeling right now. It's too much. I
feel like I'm about to explode.

I stop in front of the den. A bottle of scotch sits on the
bar cart in the corner. I dart over and grab it, then hurry back out. I know
Carter is already looking for me, always fulfilling his duty.

The basement door beckons me, and I hurry down the steps. I
rush through the main room and into the home theatre, shutting the door behind
me and nestling into one of the big recliners. It's dark and calm down here.

I pull the stopper out of the bottle and take a long swig.
It burns as it runs down my throat. I take another long sip, and feel a warmth
extend from my belly out to my skin.

I don't know why I even try. If that's what my father thinks
of me, then that's what I'll be. It's so much easier just to give in.

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Maybe you should just sit this one out," Carter
says as we pull up to the gates of Nikki's house.

"You can just park in the driveway," I tell him.
"I gave you the guest list like you asked. And it's her birthday."

"You've going out almost every night," he argues,
pulling the car over to the side of the gravel drive.

"And I've stayed in the VIP areas or gone to
members-only places. I'm not doing this to make your life difficult, OK? This
is just what I want to do," I quickly get out of the car and walk toward
the front door. I feel a headache coming on.

"You've only missed a week of classes. You could
still—"

"No, I couldn't," I cut him off as I step inside.
I place the gift I got for Nikki on the table, already piled high with
presents, and hurry toward the open bar that's been set up in the formal living
room. Or where the formal living room used to be, because it looks like she's
had most of the furniture on this floor put in storage for the party.
"Vodka soda," I tell the bartender. Important to not have too many
calories when you're drinking every day.

I spot Nikki in the center of the room and hurry over.
Carter trails his now standard ten steps behind me. She gives me a big hug when
she sees me, and nods her head suggestively behind her.

"What?" I frown, confused by her body language.

"Look behind me. But don't be obvious," she says
through gritted teeth. I do my best to glance unobtrusively behind her and do a
double take as I spot William Easting. "Now's your chance."

"I don't know," I reply, sipping my drink.
"Do you think he'll be mad? I didn't answer any of his calls."

"Ugh, are you crazy? If I weren't married... Well, it's
a good thing you look sexy as fuck right now," she says.

"He's coming over. Don't look!" I groan, as she
glances back.

"Alexa!" he greets me. "Good to see you. I
was beginning to worry you'd left for Europe again without saying
goodbye."

"No, no, just laying low for a bit."

"How's school?"

"On the backburner, actually. Figured what's the point,
you know? Might as well have some fun instead," I smile, and down the rest
of my drink.

"Exactly!" Nikki crows. "Well, I'll leave you
two alone. If you'll excuse me..."

"Don't look now, but I think you're being
followed," William leans down to murmur in my ear.

"No, I know," I tell him. "He's sort of my
bodyguard, actually. You met him at the gala in December."

"Of course, the Marine. Probably a good idea. Can I get
you another drink?" he asks, laying his hand on my back.

"Please," I reply. A few minutes later, drinks in
hand, we locate one of a handful of couches lining the walls and sit down.
William places his arm around the back of the couch just above my shoulders,
and I take a long, slow drink. It feels nice just to sit, and let everything
sort of glide over me.

"I don't know how you can wear these," William
remarks, running his hand from my knee down to my ankle and picking up my foot,
sheathed in a high, red heel.

"Well, I am glad to be sitting down," I admit.
"What about these collars?" I ask, running my fingers over his
starched white shirt where it hits his neck.

"I love wearing suits. This is bespoke. I can never go
back to off-the-rack now. Wow, you can really put them away," he says with
a laugh as he looks down at my empty glass.

"I always drink more when I'm nervous," I flirt.

"Do I make you nervous?" he asks with a grin. I
smile, though the truth is that he doesn't. It's just fun to flirt with someone
who doesn't take everything so seriously, who doesn't challenge me at every
step of the way—

"Fireworks outside, everyone!" Nikki calls out
from the doorway of the room. William gives me a hand to help me stand, and we
breeze by Carter, who has one of his impenetrable expressions on his face.

We head into the backyard and William pulls me a little ways
to the side, under a trellis covered with vines. As we look up to watch the
fireworks, I feel his hand slide over my ass. I feel a nice tingle up my back,
though it's nothing to write home about. Still, William is fun,
charming...wealthy. I sip the rest of his drink. Just the kind of guy to settle
down with. It's easy for me to picture our lives together: days full of
shopping, long trips to Europe on our yacht, gossiping with Nikki at the
country club...

Just as the grand finale begins to die down, William turns
and pulls me against him. Just before he kisses me I smell his breath, minty,
with a hint of menthol. His lips are dry, and my head is swimming. His hand
grabs my arm, and suddenly I'm being pulled back.

Except it's not William's arm. It's Carter's. "Maybe we
should go," he says.

"You overstep," William seethes from my other
side.

Carter ignores him. "You've had three drinks in under
an hour," he states, then leans forward and adds quietly, "plus the
ones at home."

I yank my arm away. "You're embarrassing me," I
hiss.

"That is not my intention." He says it so
matter-of-factly that it takes me aback.

"Leave us alone," William interjects, stepping
toward him. Carter's eyes gain a strange fire in the darkness, and I know I
need to deescalate this situation quickly.

"It's fine. William, I'll call you tomorrow," I
tell him, placing my hand on Carter's elbow and guiding him away. I stumble a
bit on the grass, and wonder if I did have one too many. Not that I'd ever
admit it.

Carter and I walk back to the car in silence, a silence that
continues through our drive home. I hurry out of the garage and toward the boat
house, but hear him following close behind me.

"I'm not in the mood for a lecture right now," I
say, turning just before I reach the door.

"I'm just worried about you."

"You're worried about me? You have a lot of gall,
saying something like that to me," I reply, turning on him.

"Why is that so hard for you to believe?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe because of your habit of
abandoning me right after we have sex! You didn't seem so worried about me
then!"
Shit. I thought I was over that. Guess not.

"You're the one who picked me out for a one-night stand
in the first place! It's not my fault that we ended up living together!"

"No, you're right. That absolves you from having any responsibility
for your actions," I retort sarcastically, and stomp up the steps to my
room, Carter in hot pursuit.

"Look, can we take a minute, and just..." he takes
a deep breath as we reach my bedroom. "I can at least explain about the
last time. I have night terrors, OK? I was going to explain, but it's fucking
embarrassing. You don't want to share a bed with me. It would not be a good
time for you, trust me."

"Oh." My heartbeat is still racing, fueled by
anger and alcohol. "Well, what about the time before that?"

He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. "I
don't know, alright? I just can't stand the idea of someone...being close to
me. I know that's fucked up."

"Yeah, it's pretty fucked up," I agree.

"I shouldn't even be alive right now, is the truth. I
should've died with the rest of the guys in my unit."

"Carter, fuck! You can't say things like that!"

"It's just a fact. The only reason I'm alive right now
is because of your father's money."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"He's the one who got me evacuated to Paris. His
contacts knew that there was a doctor there, the best neurosurgeon on the
planet, who could save me. No one else got that treatment. And if I'd been
conscious, I would have refused it. I left my entire unit behind."

"But you would have died."

"I know. My team and I did everything together. I would
have died for any one of them. But your father reached in and plucked me out
like I was different, and that broke the bond. And now... now it's like he's
got some power over me because he saved my life. And I'm supposed to be
grateful, but I'm not."

My head feels so cloudy. I can't process what he's saying.
"Carter, I don't know what to say."

I can see the look of disappointment on his face. He opens
up to me, and I'm too drunk to help him. "I know. Just forget it, OK? Just
forget it."