Stepbrother Bestie (A Stepbrother Romance Novel) (25 page)

Maybe
it’s for the best…
I thought as I came upon the bridge that
would lead me back toward the shoreline.
I
have changed and my life has changed, so perhaps it is better that the beach I
knew is left in the past as well.

This thought, after the initial upset of
not knowing exactly where I was, despite the countless memories I had formed in
this area, actually brought me some peace. After all, as I had gotten older,
all that happened to the life I knew was either disappearing or disappointing
me when I learned the truth.

These past five years, all I had ever
wanted to do was get away. At school, I found that escape; but now, I was just
returning home from my first year in college.

Well,
this isn’t exactly going home,
I reminded myself,
feeling a seething sense of malice burning through my body as I stopped at the
next light. Years ago, I would have thought nothing about calling the beach
house home; but now, the closest thing to home I had was my dorm room.

Going to spend the summer at the beach
house with my father, stepmother and my meathead of a stepbrother, both of whom
I had only met once at my father’s wedding, was not my idea of a good time.
After all, they were not my family. Just because my father needed someone to
lay with on a constant basis and was okay with the baggage that she tugged,
kicking and screaming, did not mean I had to be okay with it.

My stepmother was all right, I guess. She
was a pretty woman, but nothing like my mother. She was younger than my father
and more materialistic. I cursed myself now, because I was the one who had
encouraged my father to get back out there and date. I thought it would help
both of us, since for the past four years he had been swallowed up in a plague
of depression that was volatile and began to affect his health. When he met and
married my stepmother, easily and without much consideration for how it might
affect my relationship with him, I realized that I was wrong, at least, about
the fact that his finding a wife might make my life a little easier. I didn’t
have to worry about him anymore, which was nice. But the way he acted around
her caused me to think that perhaps he had conveniently forgotten all about my
mother, like a bad dream, and that certainly was not okay.

My stepbrother was fun to look at, with
his overdone muscles and enticing tattoos, but he was almost unbearable the
second he opened his mouth. I didn’t care much for him from the moment I met
him. I was all but dreading having to share my sacred place with these
strangers, whom my mother probably wouldn’t even like anyway.

Plus, their existence would cause me to
have to eventually come to terms with the fact that my life was now completely
different. I hadn’t been able to make it over that hurdle in five years and,
therefore, I doubted very highly that this summer was going to change my
perspective for the better.

That thought was illustrated almost
cruelly when I made my way up to the beach house. I realized that, like a
solitary piece of my history frozen in time, although things had changed around
it, it had stayed exactly the same.

With this realization, I slowed the car as
I approached. I wasn’t quite sure how I was feeling. I was homesick for the
school I had grown to love, even though I had only stayed there for two
semesters. And I felt slightly sick at the thought of having to stay in this
house with these people, since I was fairly certain I would have the same
opinion I felt my mother would have of them.

On the way to the beach house, I had tried
to think about my father and convince myself that he had always done his best.

After
all, you were the one who told him that dating again would be a good idea,
I reminded myself.

However, as I saw the house in front of
me, unchanged by the years, though the tide seemed to go out on the beach that
I remembered and come back with an updated version, forgetting the house, I
lost all hope of the thoughts I tried to convince myself with the entire
journey here.

I knew now that it wasn’t going to be fun
to see the old beach house again and it wouldn’t be enough.

When I finally parked my car, with a great
amount of effort, and gazed up at the unchanged form of mockery, I was
convinced that what I truly wanted was impossible. I supposed then, as tears
filled my eyes, that not so deep down, I knew that getting what I sought from
coming back to this place wasn’t going to work. Seeing the ghosts of my past
before me without substance and without conviction just wasn’t going to work,
especially when I was forced to create new memories with people that were never
supposed to be there in the first place.

This
was not how my life was supposed to go…
I thought as I shook my
head in order to ward off the tears. I was angry and upset by the thought that
this certainly wouldn’t be the last time that I really wanted to do nothing but
cry hysterically, turn this car around and go back to the place where I felt
safe.

However, I knew that I couldn’t do that. I
owed it to my father, if nothing else, to give this summer a shot at being
good. After all, he had talked with me about it for months.

Despite my feelings on the subject, that
was all he seemed to want to talk to me about. He would ask briefly about
school, but after the typical father questions, he would delve into his plans
for the summer. Most of them included my presence, rather than my
participation, which aggravated me a little. I t seemed that all he wanted to
do was spend time showing his new wife all of the things he had fun doing with
his old wife; as though he was happy to be rid of the source of the
information, but thankful to still have the idea for the sake of fun.

I realized it wasn’t that way, though. I
knew he just wanted to get himself off on the right foot with his wife of six
months, but personally, I didn’t think bringing her back to the spot where he
and my mother had every one of their special moments and family vacations was
the right place to do it. Still, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that. I
knew that if he had a sense for how I really felt, my father would be
devastated.

So instead of turning the car around and
heading straight back over the bridge, I wiped my eyes clear of any moistness,
took a deep breath and turned off the car. I didn’t get out right away, though.
Instead, I just sat there, and prepared myself to grin and bear my visceral
reaction to this idea for the rest of the summer, while I secretly counted down
the days until I could once again disappear into my studies.

However, for the first few tries, each
time I grasped ahold of the door handle, I felt myself become overcome with
emotion almost immediately.

Each time that happened, I would gaze up
at the house and realize that everything had changed about my life since the
last time I drove up to this piece of property and set foot inside this beach
house. The eerie unchanged nature of the house taunted me each time I looked at
it and so, it took me three tries to finally pull open the door.

The salty air had a nice breeze, but I
didn’t notice it as I took in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

It was, however, in this moment that I
realized I had lost all hope of having any semblance of an enjoyable summer, as
I defiantly took a few long strides forward, ready to take on whatever emotion
or situation was about to come my way.

Chapter
2

Tyler

This
summer is going to suck…
I thought as I kicked it back on my
bed, listening to my headphones blaring. Even when I was alone, I kept up the
charade, just in case there was anyone around that would get the wrong idea and
actually want to show me anything. Between being away from my friends and not
knowing anyone here
,
I groaned and
rolled my eyes as I took in the unfamiliar scent of the old house.

It had its charms, I guessed, but ultimately,
it was like every other house that I had ever been in; the one saving grace was
that it just happened to have the beach as a backyard. “If I have to be stuck
here, at least we’re on a beach,” I grumbled to myself, knowing full-well that
I could use my charisma and downright charming demeanor at any time to make new
friends in this strange place.

After all, I could talk to pretty much
anyone. Women swooned over me at home, so why should the beach be any
different?

No, despite my actions and forced thoughts,
I was actually looking forward to this summer far more than I would ever admit
to myself.

After all, I did have my own room, which
was cool. This was the first vacation where I didn’t have to share my space
with anyone, but it wasn’t like it was going to matter much anyway.

As I heard my mother and new stepfather
downstairs, falling all over each other in what I presumed was a somewhat
forced, extended honeymoon phase, I thought,
it isn’t like they were aware there was a planet Earth anymore anyway.
The
two of them were so wrapped up in one another, it was like he was still trying
to get in her pants, even though they were married. I’ve heard the two of them,
quite frequently getting it on in various rooms throughout the house where they
had moved after my mom married this guy.
Old
people sex…Gross.
I felt my lip snarl at the thought, before I rolled off
of my bed onto the floor, turned my music up and began my ritual of pushups.

While I was here, I was looking forward to
not only working on my tan, but also picking up some hot ladies with whom to
share my bed.

After all, it should be pretty simple,
since my mother and stepfather were still up one another’s asses and rarely
took notice of what I did, so long as it didn’t interfere with their plans.

Plus, in addition to adding a few more
notches to my bedpost, I was also interested in what kind of attention I could
gain for my typical beach body. Therefore, I knew that I had to keep up with my
exercises, just in case.

Since I hadn’t been to the beach since I
was very young, I was extremely curious at exactly what this area had to offer
a man with such a handsome, cocky and assured sense of self-worth.

My body easily glided through the first
fifty, but then I began to feel the prickle of discomfort as my muscles
strained to accommodate the motions, while keeping in the even stride. My music
wasn’t much help to keep a pace though, because it was far too slow. If I kept
any kind of rhythm from what was blaring into my ears, I would never make it to
my goal of one hundred pushups in one sitting.

As I continued, I began to feel my back
heat up with the force of the exercise. I moved up and down, up and down,
faster, stronger and more efficiently. The stronger I was physically, the
better I could make myself in every aspect of my life. I lived for fitness. I
needed to feel powerful and I did.

There were very few situations where I
felt out of control. I knew how to manipulate people, almost at an expert
level. It was a gift, and my physical stature, my strength, only made that gift
more prominent.

I smiled as I reminded myself that there
were only twenty more to go. By now, I could feel every inch of my body
beginning to burn with the power that came from growing stronger. My breath was
still just as even as my stride, which was a big deal to me. I needed to ensure
that whatever situation I got myself into, I never showed it that I was
fearful.

I had spent too many years being fearful.
I had made one promise to myself: that I would never feel that way again. Sure,
I was in every situation for my own personal gain, but I liked it that way. I
was the only one who could let myself down, and I always found a way to have
the power so that didn’t happen. I was confident in myself and intrigued by
everything that surrounded me.

I was used to getting what I wanted. For
years, I had perfected the art of getting exactly what I was after, no matter
what the cost. I learned at a young age that the only person who was going to
get me what I wanted was myself, which spurred my attitude and foul mouth. This
trait, which I kept so dear to my heart, in the effort of survival, tended to
get me into a lot of trouble. However, I was always able to hold my own.

Yet, part of that assurance was the
knowledge that there was always the risk of it all catching up to me. I knew
that, I understood that, and that was a good reason to just keep moving
forward, being the best that I could be, and realizing that I was the creator
of my own destiny.

However, the only thing that I knew I
needed to find, rather quickly, was a place to work out that would bring the
heat like my gym back home. As encouraging as the pushups were, it wasn’t
nearly the extent that I needed to keep up with my training.

Once I found a gym and perhaps a couple of
strongest man competitions to boost my ego, I would be all set. I snickered as
I reached the last stretch of my pushups, feeling the singing in my lungs and
throughout my body. I didn’t really need a stroke to my ego. It was big and
prideful enough, but there was no harm in making me feel better about myself.

After all, this was a chance to conquer
new ground. Back at home, I had already won all of the competitions multiple
times and therefore, it was beginning to get a little
boring.
In fact, in recent years, I had even noticed a decrease in attendance and
effort, for it was obvious who was going to take home the championship.