SNAKE (a Stepbrother Romance) (10 page)

I
turned
my back and stood in the middle of the room, my breathing laboured, trying to control my trembling hands. Why did he have to leave?

Yet I knew it was probably for the best. I’d made my decision last night and I was going to stick to it.

I was already riddled with doubt and worries, and I’d just woken up minutes ago... What we had done was undoubtedly wrong, but the worst thing was, I didn’t regret it. Who had I become? And if I wasn’t careful, if I didn’t hold onto some semblance of control, I’d repeat the previous night with my stepbrother in a heartbeat.

Devan had turned me into something that I never ever wanted to become. He made me a cheat, a slut, and just as bad as Monique. But who was I kidding? It wasn’t just his doing.

I cringed at the thought as I got dressed, then tidied up the apartment. We’d left it in such disarray in our hurry to let our emotions overtake us the previous night. Somehow my nightstand had been knocked over, and the stacks of books I’d been reading were scattered along the floor. Not to mention that I found my panties in one corner of the room, my bra in another and my shoes… god knows where my shoes had gotten to.

After all my clothes were neatly stacked in the hamper, ready to be washed, and the bed made, I finally admitted to myself that I had to use the bathroom. Out of the corner of my eye I glanced at the unfinished, untiled bathroom and cursed. I had running water, but the toilet hadn’t been connected up yet. I contemplated using the sink, but even I couldn’t stoop that low. Besides, curiosity was getting the better of me; had they patched things up?

On my way out the door I grabbed a load of laundry and snuck into the house, making sure to tread carefully. I held my breath as I closed the back door and turned to head towards the bathroom, dropping my basket by the machines along the way. But as soon as I’d closed the door, it was blatantly obvious that they wouldn’t hear me even if I were a five ton elephant let loose stomping around the place.

Dev and Monique were shouting from their upstairs bedroom as far as I could tell. Their voices boomed at each other, making it feel like the house was reverberating around me. It was as if they were in a contest to be the loudest humans alive.

Trying not to listen, I rushed down the hall and shut myself in the bathroom. I did what I had to do and finished by splashing ice cold water on my face. I felt exhausted, and the voices filtering through the door were making me bite my bottom lip nervously.

This is all your fault,
I told myself and felt the tears begin to appear.

Even though I didn’t like eavesdropping, I pressed my head against the thick wooden door of the bathroom and listened. I had to know if he’d told her. I wanted to see if Dev would mention me, fight for us, or pretend like nothing had ever happened.

“Don’t start with me, Dev,” Monique yelled. A loud crash interrupted the shouting for just a moment. I could only assume something had been thrown across the room, shattering upon impact as it hit a wall… or Dev.

Silence.

But then the arguing picked right back up again. “I’ve had enough of you. I can’t take this anymore!”

“You’re not going to walk away from me this time, Monique. I’ll say what I have to,” my stepbrother snarled at her and my eyes widened in surprise, hearing his enraged tone.

There was the sound of pounding feet rushing down the stairs. Then more, another pair of stomping feet made their way down into the hallway.

“I’ll leave if I want to,” I heard Monique say, barely metres away from my hiding place.

I stepped away from the door, feeling like I’d violated their privacy, and held a hovering hand over the door handle, ready to brace myself in case either of them attempted to use the bathroom as a reprieve. I wanted to turn the lock, but feared that any sudden movements or noises would alert them to my presence.

“Not this time. You’ll listen to me until I’ve finished. Do you understand?!” Devan yelled, continuing where he left off.

This is awful,
I thought as they continued ripping pieces out of each other, never once taking a break or a breath.

Deciding it was safe to move, I lowered the toilet seat and sat down, wondering how long until it was safe to leave.

What felt like hours went by as they yelled, cried, and raged at each other. But after a few minutes of holding my hands over my ears I couldn’t take it anymore. Finally, I decided it would be better to get back to my apartment above the garage and forget any of this ever happened.

But I could hear them right outside the door. They were taking their argument on tour, moving from one room to the next, using the hallway as the access route.

So, the window seemed the only safe way out. I clawed at the almost painted-over window frame and managed to wiggle the window open wide enough so I could make my escape.

I tore my dress on the way out, catching it on an unknown ragged edge, but otherwise came out unharmed, landing with an awkward thud into the soft flower bed that bordered the garden around the side. Dusting off my clothes, I ran back to the garage and upstairs to my little apartment.

Guilt was starting to choke me, making a deep pit in the bottom of my belly. I felt like I would pass out any moment, and I sat down on the perfectly made bed to think everything through.

We’d made a huge mistake.
I ruined their marriage.

Devan was a married man, and cheating with him made me as bad as Monique. As bad as the woman who’d found it amusing for me to find her and Mark in bed, his dick up to the hilt in her.

As for Devan... he was no longer the knight in the fairy-tale dream; the gleam had come off his armour. He was the villain of the story. He was the snake that tempted me; made me do bad things that I would regret. I should have known that from the start.

I felt the tears stinging my eyes, but I forced them to stay back. I had to stay strong because I knew my body still wanted Dev and would cave as soon as he turned on the charm. I needed to resist that urge, even if it took all the resolve I had in me and made me miserable.

There was no way it could ever work anyway,
my shoulder angel reasoned and I nodded in agreement.

Even if he and Monique got divorced and went their separate ways, he was still my stepbrother. He was family.

It would be a forbidden relationship if there ever was one, and I cringed just thinking about our parents’ reactions. They would never understand, and neither would society.

I was about to lie back upon my bed but then sprang up, away from the tainted bedspread that had absorbed our sins, remembering what we’d done. I realised I would never be able to look Monique in the eye again. Yes, she had been cheating on Dev, but I’d done something terrible to her. I’d gone against my own code – sent my moral compass into a spin - and I would never feel comfortable around her again.

And as for Devan... he might have been the best sex I’d ever had; we’d fit perfectly together, and though he only had two hands, it’d felt like I was being touched all over by a thousand. But that one night was all we could ever have. One night that I’d pretend to regret for the rest of my life.

After all, once a cheater, always a cheater, right?

With a bitter, sad smile, I got up, took a deep breath and exhaled again. The air in the room still smelled like Devan. I went to open the window.

My phone rang, cutting the tension that had been building in my fidgety body with its shrill melody. I checked the number and saw it was work and I finally answered the call, wondering what on earth could be so important on my day off. Nevertheless, I was grateful for the distraction.

M
y marriage was finally over
.

I sat in the kitchen, a glass of bourbon, dark umber in appearance, in front of me as I pondered this fact. Only minutes ago, Monique stormed out of the house, again, but for good this time.

Forcing myself to breathe and not just knock back the alcohol, I rolled the liquor over my tongue and let it slide down my throat and waited for the burn to ignite in my stomach. I detected remnants of its smokiness on my tongue and as I did, the fight came back to me in violent flashes, her voice screaming obscenities in my mind.

Hours had passed before she finally left, no longer having the energy to argue anymore. There was one point when all her rage dissipated and I saw the exact moment she gave up. That she’d had enough and realised she didn’t know what she was fighting for anymore. And I felt like a prick because I felt... relieved, glad that it was over, even though it took the best part of the morning to come to its conclusion.

I honestly never thought I’d feel that liberated when she stopped shouting at me and walked out the door.

“You didn’t even come after me,” she accused me when I got back into the house. No hello or good morning, just straight to the point, accusing me of something that wasn’t even true, playing the victim while lying to my face.

It was still so vivid in my mind... my wife in her boss’s car, kissing him while he removed her clothing. Cheater.

But I was just as bad, I realised guiltily. It was probably the reason why I’d let the fight go on for so long, why I let her shout and scream at me for hours.

As Monique’s voice began to get raspy and tired, I found my balls and realised this was the time to set the record straight, to stand up for myself, instead of always letting her walk all over me in the name of love. I didn’t always have to swallow my comments. I knew what I wanted anyway, and Monique wasn’t part of the picture I’d painted in my mind.

So I spoke up. That was my first mistake.

“I went after you,” I finally said, my voice quiet but full of venom. “I followed you, wanted to talk things through.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked with a snort. “I didn’t see you, so stop lying, you piece of shit.”

“You were at the motel on 32nd Street,” I told her matter-of-factly. “I saw your car.”

Monique crossed her arms in front of her body defensively. “What on earth would I be doing at a seedy motel? You saw someone else’s car, you lying prick.”

“Will you stop lying, Monique. Doesn’t it tire you out, telling all these lies?”

Finally, I’d had enough. I stepped up to her, menacing and so frightening she stumbled back. I hadn’t meant to scare her, and I would never hit her or any woman, but it felt good to have the upper hand for once. To have her listening to me for a change.

“You don’t think I can recognise your car, the plates my money paid for?” I asked her with a snarl. “I know it was you. And if that wasn’t proof enough, I saw you and Alan in his car two rows over. And you weren’t just kissing either.”

Her eyes widened in shock at my admission, and for a second, I really thought I’d been wrong. I thought she might deny the whole thing, give me a good alibi. But a moment later, guilt registered in her gaze and my world came crashing down at my feet.

“Oh,” she said stupidly, nervously picking at her finger nails as I finally backed away. It was a habit of hers I had always hated. She looked so put together, prim and proper, but her cuticles were torn to shreds.

“Indeed,” I replied coldly. “I hope he gives you the baby you want so badly, because I sure as hell won’t be doing that after seeing you eat his face. I want a divorce, Monique.”

I seemed to have awoken a beast inside her as she stomped towards me, her eyes blazing with fire.

“You? You want a divorce? You can fucking have it. At least he’s a real man,” she spat in my face. “And don’t think I’m blind, Devan.”

I gave her a genuinely confused look. “What the hell are you on about?”

Monique’s eyes were pure evil as she locked them with mine. “I see the way you look at her, you sick man,” she snarled at me. “She’s your stepsister, for God’s sake! You’re disgusting.”

The accusation finally dawned upon me. She was talking about Mila. She had somehow caught on to us - maybe she didn’t know the whole thing, but she’d definitely seen me longingly gaze at my stepsister.

It was damn hard to resist outright staring at Mila, but goddamnit, I should have tried harder. Because once Monique sunk her teeth into this, we’d never get out alive.

“Silence, huh?” she asked with an unattractive snort, her laugh triumphant as she backed away. “I knew it. You’re terrible, Dev. Truly disgusting. That’s just vile!”

“You know nothing. But fucking around for god knows how long is perfectly acceptable, is it, Monique?”

“Well at least he’s not my stepbrother!” she spat.

My mouth went dry and I was unable to form any sort of comeback; not a word escaped my lips as Monique grabbed her purse from the table and walked towards the door, but I knew she wouldn’t leave without getting another abusive blow in.

“She’ll never have you, you know?” she told me over her shoulder. “Mila’s too smart for a sick fuck like you, Devan. And no one else will, either. You’re on your own now, you sad excuse for a man.”

And with that she walked out of the kitchen and a few seconds later I heard the front door slam shut.

Taking a deep breath, I stood for a moment, relishing the tranquil seconds as the whole house seemed to sigh with relief. It was perfectly quiet. But disturbingly empty also.

Like a robot, I walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured myself a drink. I wanted to get back to Mila badly, but I needed that drink desperately, to calm my nerves, to stop me from doing something even more stupid.

I sat down at the kitchen table with the cold glass in my hand, taking one sip after the other until the glass was dry as a bone.

So that was it. That was how a marriage ended, went up with flames with the occupants still inside, scorched and burned until there was nothing left but cinders.

I threw the expensive tumbler as hard as I could against the wall and watched the crystal shatter into thousands of little pieces, showering the kitchen floor with sliver-like needles of glass.

I
knocked
on Mila’s door several times as my heart beat feverishly with excitement, but there was no answer.

Her absence, especially after mentioning to her that I’d be back up to talk, was making me nervous. I tried peering through the side window of the apartment for a few long minutes, but was unable to detect any movements from within.

I considered just unlocking the door and letting myself in… but I resisted the temptation to invade her privacy. She hadn’t been too pleased about it the last time.

Finally, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and scrolled to Mila’s number and pressed call. I waited, the phone held to my ear, longing to hear her voice, but after a couple of rings the call ended, and I had no idea whether she’d disconnected it or had her phone off.

I tried once again only to have the same result.

Trying not to read too much into the unanswered calls, I quickly typed out a text.

Walking away from the apartment, I attempted to bury my anger. I felt disappointed and cheated, but then again, I’d brought it all upon myself. With a heavy sigh, I decided to get Mila some flowers as a peace offering. A small smile was playing on my lips as I got in my truck and made my way to the flower shop down the street.