Shackled: A Stepbrother Romance Novel (12 page)

H
ouse
. Job. Mom.

After those issues were worked out, then Fiona would be free to deal with me.

I told her I’d wait until everything was taken care of. I knew she was surprised by that—I could hear it in her voice. She thought I was going to argue with her.

Of course, I didn’t tell her I planned to intervene to help speed things up.

“Jimmy!” I shouted when I spotted my boss locking up the front door of the garage. He waved and I waited for the cars to pass before I jogged across the street, happy that I caught him before he left.

“Merry almost Christmas, man,” he said before giving me a clap on the back.

“Thanks, man. What are you doing here? I stopped by your house and your girl looked like she was going to blow a fucking gasket.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty pissed,” he said with a laugh, obviously amused. “She thinks I came here to work today, but I actually had her present stashed in the safe.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise when he pulled a box out of his pocket that was only big enough to hold one thing. I grinned and said, “Pretty sure she’ll forgive you when she sees it.”

“Hell yeah, she will. Now, as much as I like talking to you and all—it’s fucking freezing out here. So what’d you need?”

My eyes darted back down to the ring box, then up at his face. The poor guy was obviously whipped by his girl, unable to keep the smile off his face as he turned the box over in his hands. I could relate to the feeling and suddenly, I knew exactly how to play this.

“Actually, I need a favor.”

One of his thick eyebrows cocked high with surprise. “Yeah? Damn, man. You haven’t even asked for a day off since you started here. If I can help, you know I will.”

My grin was wide as I said, “Awesome. You see, I’m trying to put together the Christmas present for
my
girl, and I
know
you can help.”

O
ne problem down
, two to go.

I raised my fist and knocked on the door, grinding my teeth together as I fought the urge to flee. I knew I could take care of problem two easily enough—but problem three was going to be the real bitch.

Literally
, I thought with a dry chuckle as the door swung open.

“Son. Did you lose your key?”

“No, I still got it,” I replied as I stepped past my dad and into the warmth of the house. “Since I’m not staying here, I didn’t feel right using it. Where’s Leslie? We need to talk.”

The look on my dad’s face was nothing short of perturbed and the sight made me chuckle. He raised an eyebrow at my amusement, but didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he waited for an explanation.

“Fiona doesn’t want to see me until everything else in her life is worked out. So I’m helping,” I offered up, unwilling to say anything more just yet.

“Helping? You mean meddling.”

“Call it whatever you like, but I still need to talk to Leslie.”

“You’re damn right you do.”

Speak of the she-devil
, I thought as Fiona’s mother came down the hall, a scowl still etched on her face. I briefly wondered if it had stayed in that exact same expression since the previous day.

“You need to tell me what’s going on between you and my daughter right now.”

I wasn’t a fan of her commanding tone, but I supposed it was a step up from being accused of forcing myself on Fiona. I motioned towards the entrance of the living room, hoping she’d catch on to my intentions. She did and, gratefully, made no smart-ass comments on her way to sit down on the couch. Dad sat beside her while I stood tall in front of them.

“I told you yesterday—I’m in love with her. And she loves me.”

Despite everything she’s said, I know she loves me. She can lie to herself, but not to me.

“So you took advantage of the trust I placed in you and used my cabin for your filthy sex shenanigans?” she damn near shrieked, startling both my dad and me.

“
Nooo
,” I said slowly, raising my hands in mock surrender. “That’s not what happened and can we please just forget about the damn chains for a few minutes? It’s not relevant to the real issue here.”

“Oh no? Then why don’t you tell me what the
‘real issue’
is?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact that it’s fucking Christmas Eve and your daughter thinks you hate her? How about the fact that it was her fear of disappointing you that made her keep dropping out a secret in the first place, and your reaction just proved that she was right to be afraid? How about that you didn’t tell your own daughter that you were getting engaged? And now, you’re so focused on what’s going on between me and Fiona that you can’t see that you’re about to lose her. We’re
all
going to lose her and the fault will be entirely on
you
.
Not
me. Not this time.”

At some point during my rant, the scowl on her face softened into a pensive frown. I was ready for her to start firing back. Ready for the yelling contest to begin. In fact, I was so fucking fired up that I began to bounce up and down on the balls of my feet like I was getting ready for a physical fight.

I would defend Fiona as much as it fucking took, even it that meant getting myself kicked out of this house just so she could be welcomed back in.

Whatever it took, it’d be worth it.

Then Leslie began to cry.

Jesus Christ, it’s like my gift to make the women of this family cry. Worst superpower
ever
.

Even though I had come over thinking that Leslie was the enemy, something inside me twisted up with guilt as I watched her bury her face in her hands and sob while my dad moved to rub her back.

But in a really fucked up way, I kind of felt proud of myself for striking a nerve that hard, that fast.

Maybe this would be easier to fix than I thought. Maybe all Leslie really needed was to hear the truth—as brutal as it may have been.

Well, I could certainly give her that.

“Fiona was right. The secrets you two keep from each other are going to tear what’s left of your family apart and you’ll drag my Dad and me down right along with you.”

Dad gave me a sharp look as she began to cry harder, silently commanding me to shut the fuck up and quit while I was ahead. I gave him a nod of acknowledgment, stepping back to gesture that he could take it from here.

“Leslie, I know it’s hard for you to hear, but he’s right. It’s Christmas, darling. We should all be together.”

After a few moments, she managed to get herself mostly under control and wiped at her eyes as she sniffled. But her anger hadn’t fully given way to sadness quite yet, that much became clear when she began to speak.

“Be together? You mean with you and I about to get married and our kids
screwing
under our own roof? What will people say, Gerald? How can you be okay with this?”

His eyes flickered to meet mine and for the briefest moment—I wasn’t entirely sure that my earlier assumption had been correct. There was something in the way he looked at me that said he really
wasn’t
all right with the idea of Fiona and me.

“What’s more important to you—what people say or having a relationship with your daughter?”

Leslie turned her head away and that was all the answer either of us needed.

“Secondly—they won’t be under our roof.”

Wait. What?

Dad looked over to me and let out a long sigh. “Jonathan can stay in my old house—assuming he’s willing to pay what I’m asking for rent.”

“Done. I’ve got a pretty good amount saved up since you weren’t charging me rent before and I can pick up a few extra shifts at the shop to cover anything else.”

Dad nodded and I noticed the pride in his gaze as he looked over at me. He really couldn’t have been all that surprised that I had saved nearly everything I made—especially since I had given up buying my own car and settled for using either using his or catching a ride when I needed to.

I had always been aware of what an advantageous position I was in—working while living at home without paying bills. I might not have gone off to college to get a degree that Leslie seemed to think was so necessary, but I was damn good at handling my money like an adult.

However, Leslie didn’t seem convinced that this was a good idea. “Where will Fiona stay? Gerald, with me being unemployed for the time being, I really can’t afford to—”

“She’ll stay with me,” I said surely, hoping I wasn’t putting my foot in my mouth with the assumption. When both of their eyebrows raised with uncertainty, I quickly added, “If she wants to. I’ll ask her tomorrow, assuming you want her here for Christmas.”

Leslie looked from my dad to me a few times before letting her gaze firmly settle on me as she blandly stated, “I’m really not comfortable with this. With you two being together. I want you to know that.”

“Duly noted,” I shot back just as dryly.

“But I want my daughter back. So if that means pretending to be okay with this… I guess I’ll do it.”

Her sigh of resignation was followed by another round of sniffles, and I decided to take my leave before the waterworks started flowing again. I jerked my chin towards the door when I was sure my dad was looking my way, waiting for the nod that came afterwards.

Five minutes later, he came out to find me still standing on the front porch. Before he could even get a word out, I asked, “Are you okay with this?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally shrugged. “Not really, but only because I know it’s going to take Leslie a long time to get over the… awkwardness. But once she does, it’ll all be fine.”

I let out a relieved breath that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. “I’ll take it. So what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“Leslie just laid down for a nap. She’s going to go get Fiona first thing in the morning. You’ll be here?”

“Yeah. And hey, about the house—”

Dad held up a hand to cut me off, glancing back over his shoulder towards the door like he was checking to see if Leslie was waiting on the other side. Once he was sure the coast was clear and that she wasn’t eavesdropping, he reached into his pocket to pull out the second key.

“Consider the first two months of rent a Christmas present to both you and Fiona,” he said as he handed it over. “But I expect a check on the first of March.”

“Understood. But can you afford to lose that much? I can pay it, Dad.”

He shook his head. “You know where you got your money skills from, right? I’ve always been a saver. Leslie and I will be fine. You worry about yourself and Fiona.”

“Assuming she’s willing to give me a second chance,” I muttered quietly, finally giving in to the need to admit some of my doubts out loud. “I was the reason we weren’t talking. She didn’t do anything wrong—I fucked it all up. She told me she loved me and I—I just hurt her. Badly.”

Dad just chuckled and patted me on the shoulder. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Son, I’m afraid you also inherited my issues with women. But if she really does love you, she’ll give you another chance.” He paused, glancing back at the door to the house as he mumbled, “They always do. Even when we don’t deserve them.”

As I opened my mouth to ask what the hell that meant, he patted me on the shoulder and quickly said, “See you tomorrow, son.”

Then he disappeared into the house and I was left standing alone in the cold, frowning at the front door and wondering when the fuck my life became so complicated.

“
M
erry Christmas
, Grandma!”

Brenda’s voice broke me out of my daze and I glanced up to watch as she warmly hugged her grandmother. I was parked on the couch in her living room, watching as her relatives arrived to spend the day with the family.

I knew Brenda was just trying to cheer me up by including me, but it was only making me more depressed by the minute. I spent the entire morning trying not to wonder whether Jonathan had gone to my mom’s house to spend the day with her and Gerald like a family. Wondering whether he was even still allowed to do so or if he had gotten the boot just as swiftly as I had.

Thinking about him spending Christmas all alone in the small house he and Gerald used to live in made my heart ache.

“Chin up, dearie.”

I looked up to see Brenda’s grandmother giving me a kind smile and it was easy enough to return it, even though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. She accepted it either way and moved over to sit on the recliner chair, shooing away Brenda’s cousins with a light-hearted, “Age before beauty, children. Grandma gets the good chair.”

I wanted to laugh because it was genuinely funny to me, but the sound just wouldn’t come out. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Brenda frowning at me, then turning to her mom and fiercely whispering something to her. A moment later, her mom disappeared into the kitchen and Brenda walked over to me.

“Come on, girl,” she said as she gripped my hand and pulled me up.

I would’ve asked where we were going, but when she started down the hall towards her bedroom, I had already figured out what was going on. When we got into her room, I plopped down on the bed and gave her an apologetic shrug.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a total downer. It’s just—What are you doing?”

Brenda was dragging my suitcase towards her door and unzipping the top pouch to put my dirty laundry inside. Was she really kicking me out for bringing down the happy vibe on Christmas? Where the hell was I supposed to go? I stood up and rushed over, gripping the handle and pulling the bag away from her.

“Brenda, I’m really sorry. Please don’t throw me out. I—”

“No one is throwing you out,” she interrupted, giving me a small smile before she finally said, “Fiona, your mom is waiting outside. She’s here to take you home.”

Tears immediately sprang to my eyes and I cursed my inability to control my reactions. “Are you sure?”

She laughed. “Well, I didn’t see her myself, but my mom just spoke to her. I figured you’d want your bag in case it goes well.”

“And if it doesn’t?” I asked, eyes wide at the thought of having another fight with my mom that ended up with me having nowhere to stay.

“Text me and I’ll be there as quickly as I can. I promise.”

“Thank you,” I said, giving up my battle with my tears and letting them fall. I gave her a tight hug and mumbled against her shoulder, “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, girl. Let me know how it goes, all right?”

I nodded as I backed away from the hug and wiped at my eyes, hoping that they hadn’t gotten red yet. Brenda looked at my face and gave me a thumbs up, answering my silent question for me.

“I will. And merry Christmas.”

“You too, girl.”

F
rom the moment
I stepped out of the house with my bag in tow and locked eyes with my mother through the windshield of her car, I knew this was going to be a tough ride. Whether she wanted me back home for the holiday or not, she still hadn’t quite gotten over our last fight.

Which was fine, because I hadn’t either. But that didn’t mean that I was okay with the tense silence that settled over the car the moment I slid into the passenger seat.

“So are we just going to pretend like nothing happened?” I asked halfway through the ride, when it finally became clear to me that she wasn’t intending to say anything. “Because if we’re going to do that, I’d rather just go back to Brenda’s.”

Mom sighed and put her signal on, turning us into the empty parking lot of a closed grocery store. Once the car was in park, I unbuckled my seatbelt so I could turn to face her head-on.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about college. I’m sorry for not saying anything about all the doubts I was having when I was filling out applications. I’m sorry for not telling you right when I got home and letting you find out like you did.”

Mom was quiet for long moment, waiting to make sure I was done before she issued her own apologies. “I’m sorry for not telling you about Gerald and I’m sorry for my reaction when I found out about college. I just—Fiona, sometimes a mother’s worst fear is that her child will turn out being exactly like herself. It’s terrifying in ways that I can’t even begin to explain to you.”

I would’ve asked her to elaborate, but I knew it wouldn’t matter. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that I could relate to the feeling of being a parent and I could only imagine how emotional the day would become if we got too deep into that conversation.

So instead I just said, “Apology accepted.”

There was a long pause before she asked, “And what about Jonathan?”

“What about him?”

“Are you sorry about that?”

I didn’t even need to think about it. “No. No, I’m not sorry about that. I mean, I
am
sorry that you found out like you did, but mom—I’ve loved him since I was sixteen. I didn’t mean to fall for him, it just kind of happened.”

“I suppose no matter what I think about the two of you being together… I guess I can understand the fact that you can’t control who you fall in love with. But sweetie, you need to keep in mind that you are both so very young and—”

I raised my hand and gave her an apologetic smile when she scowled at me for the rude interruption.

“I’m sorry, but this is unnecessary. I
know
we’re young and that people grow and change and it might not work out, but being with him just feels… right. It feels like—”

“Forever?”

I smiled sadly. “So you do understand.”

“Of course I do. I met your father when I was your age.”

I had forgotten that. I tried not to think about my dad very often, which was why I supposed I never bothered to think about the fact that being with Jonathan could work out. After all, I was well aware of the fact that my parents had been deeply in love before he died.

If they met while they were both so young, who was to say that Jonathan and I couldn’t last? The only things stopping us were my own hold-ups and insecurities.

“Honey, listen. I’m not thrilled about the idea of you two being in a relationship, but I want to be in your life. If that means accepting the two of you… I’ll do my best. I promise. Just give me some time.”

Her words gave me hope; but those few remaining doubts were still nagging me. “Honestly, I’m not sure if I want to be with him. Actually, I
know
I want to be with him, I just don’t know if I
should
want to.
God
, does that even make sense? Because I’m starting to feel insane.”

Mom shrugged, one corner of her mouth lifting up. “Sounds like young love.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. Damn it.”

“Language,” she chided, but there wasn’t any real force behind it. She hesitated for a moment before she said, “Something you might like to know—as much as I hate to admit it—Jonathan is actually the reason we’re here right now. He stopped by the house yesterday to talk to me.”

“He did?” I asked as my eyebrows raised comically high.

“Yes. And by
‘talk’
I mean rudely point out all the ways I was a horrible mother to you. He said some things that made me realize that no matter what choices you make, I want to be a part of your life. But… maybe from now on, we can include each other in our decisions a little more.”

“You mean no more secrets?”

“Exactly.”

“Deal,” I immediately blurted out, holding out my hand to shake on it.

She glanced down at my palm and her lip wobbled, instantly bringing my own tears right back to the surface. She bypassed my hand and unfastened her seatbelt to lean over the center console and give me the tightest hug she could manage in the awkward position.

“I love you, sweetie. I’m so,
so
sorry.”

“So am I. And I love you, too.”

And right there in the abandoned lot of the grocery store, I found the holiday spirit Brenda had teased me about lacking.

I just had one person left to forgive.