Stepbrother Untouchable (9 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I was half-worried that the plan was for all four of us to
watch the TV program together, but thankfully there's no such expectation. Or
at least, I haven't been told of it. It's the first time in a while my mom
hasn't insisted on a family dinner. She's been holed up in her room most of the
day, while Pierce fields calls from his attorneys in his study.

I decide to grab some leftover pasta from the fridge to eat
in my room, and peer into Nate's room as I pass. No sign of him.

I shut my door behind me and open my computer to check out
some of the coverage online. I feel nauseous as I read the woman's claims,
though slightly relieved that she isn't accusing Pierce of any kind of
violence. She talks mostly about lingering touches, shoulder massages, and
being stonewalled by management when she complained.

I finish eating and click around the internet for a while,
feeling restless. When I can't stand my boredom any longer, I take my plate and
walk back down to the kitchen and put it in the dishwasher. The phone on the
counter rings as I'm headed past it. I pause for a moment, waiting to see if
someone else is going to answer it. What if it's a reporter? Do I just say 'no
comment,' like they do on TV?

On the third ring, I decide to bite the bullet. “Hello?”

“Hi, is Nate there?” a female voice asks breathlessly. Ah,
another admirer.

“Sorry, I don't think he is,” I reply honestly. “Can I take
a message?”

There's a slight pause. “Is this Holly?”

“No, this is her daughter, Brynn. May I ask who's calling?”
There's another long pause, and I begin to feel uneasy.

“It's Eileen…Nate's mom.”

I almost drop the phone in surprise. “Oh, um, I don't—”

“Wait! Please, please don't hang up. I just saw the news,
and thought that Nate might be willing to talk to me now.”

“I don't understand.”

“Because he'll know the truth about Pierce, and then maybe
he won't believe whatever he says about me.”

“I'm sorry, I don't think I should be in the middle of
this.” Whatever it is.

“Please, please…” I hear her gasp and the clear sound of
crying. “I haven't talked to Nate in so long…he's my son, he's my son.”

“But you chose to leave him…”

“Is that what Pierce told you?”

“No, Nate.”

“He heard it from Pierce. I left Pierce because he was
cheating
on me. But Pierce is used to having everything his own way, and he was
furious. He was the one with the money, I came into the marriage with nothing,
and signed a pre-nup. I mean, I barely even looked at the thing at the time—I
thought we'd be together forever. He had an expensive lawyer and managed to get
full custody in the divorce. I never had a chance. I've been trying to get in
touch with Nate for years to tell him the truth…I left Pierce, not Nate. I
would never leave my son. I never would have divorced Pierce, even though he
was cheating on me, if I had known I'd never see my son again. I thought after
seeing this woman on TV, maybe he'd believe me…” She dissolves into sobs.

“Eileen, Eileen, it's OK,” I whisper, feeling sick.
Something about what she's telling me rings true. I can feel it in my gut. “I
want to help you, but…Nate, he's really touchy about his father. I don't know
what I can do.”

“I know, and I'm sorry to put this on you. I call the house
now and then trying to get Nate, and I was just hoping that he would pick up
tonight and not hang up on me.”

A sound behind me makes me fly around. Pierce is standing in
the doorway to the dining room.

“Everything OK?” he asks.

“Yep, everything's fine, Pierce,” I reply so that Eileen can
hear me.

“Just take down my number, alright?” Eileen says quietly.
“Please, just tell him what I said.” I write the number down on a small notepad
on the counter, conscious that Pierce is watching me.

“Got it, thanks. Talk to you later,” I say, and hang up.

“Not a reporter, I hope,” Pierce says with a sad smile.

“No, just a friend,” I reply as nonchalantly as possible,
and rip the paper off the pad and stuff it in my pocket.

“God, this has been the longest day of my life,” he says
with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. “I hope you and your mom
don't get dragged into anything. There might be some reporters hanging out by
the gate tomorrow. Probably best to just avoid them.”

“Sure, no problem.” He looks so tired, and I find myself
quickly feeling sorry for him. He seems so genuine right now that it's hard to
believe what Eileen and this other woman are saying about him. The man in front
of me paints such a different picture.

“On the other hand, though, I'm glad that you and your mom
are here right now. Maybe it's selfish of me. But I don't think I'd make it
through all this without her. She's really brought light back into my life.”

“She's…yeah, she's great,” I reply awkwardly.

“Are you having a good time at the internship? Not too much
busy work, I hope.”

“No, not at all, Pierce. It's wonderful, thank you.”

He nods. “Well, I better get back to work. You'd think I'd
have gotten a lot done, considering how long I've been in there, but I've just
been staring at the wall.”

“Oh, well, I'll see you tomorrow then.”

“'Night.”

“Goodnight.” I walk back upstairs with the phone number burning
a hole in my pocket. It's amazing to me that I've gone from being almost sure
that Pierce is lying, to feeling like I've betrayed his trust in the span of
one short conversation with him. Is he telling the truth, or does he just
possess a consummate politician's ability to spin the story for himself?

I get ready for bed slowly, my mind wandering
uncontrollably. Before this summer, I felt sure of things in my life. Sure of
my ideas and opinions. Sure that I was right. But I feel less and less sure of
myself the longer I stay in this house.

Just as I finish brushing my teeth, I hear a thud from the
hallway, then a groan. That sounded like Nate. With a frown, I open my bedroom
door. Sure enough, there's Nate, lying on the carpet just outside his own room.
I hesitate, realizing I'm wearing my little nightgown, but figure he's seen me
in it already.

“Nate? Are you OK? What happened?” I murmur, hurrying to
kneel next to him. The whiff of alcohol coming off of him gives it away before
he says anything.

“I'm so drunk, Brynn,” he says, beginning to laugh.

“Shhh, you'll wake up our parents,” I admonish him. “Why are
you on the floor?”

“Tripped. On my own foot,” he replies with a sigh.

“Well, come on, get up,” I order him, sliding a hand under
his torso to pull him upward. He slowly obeys and stands on his feet, where he
sways dangerously. “OK, now in here,” I continue, pushing his bedroom door open
with my foot as I slide an arm around his back to stabilize him. I feel his
muscles clench under his t-shirt as we walk.
Not the time, Brynn.
“Shoes
off,” I order him as we reach the bed.

“Mmm,” he grunts, as he kicks them off.

“I'm getting you some water. Don't move.” I hurry back to my
bedroom and grab my water glass from the bedside table, then refill it from the
tap in my bathroom before heading back to his room. I shut the door behind me
to keep the noise from filtering around the house, then stop in surprise as I
see that Nate has stripped down to his boxers and is standing at the foot of
his bed.

“Thanks,” he slurs, as I hesitantly walk forward and hand
him the water. I watch him gulp the whole glass down, the grey moonlight from
the window illuminating his ripped torso. He puts the glass down on his desk
and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he sways slightly.

“You alright?” I ask worriedly. “I've never seen you drunk
before.”

“Don't really drink. No time. Work, practice, work, game.”

“And I thought I was the nerd,” I tease him.

“You're funny,” he says, cocking his head slightly, then
takes a step toward me.

“Nate…” I say as my core clenches.

“Yes, Brynn?” he asks innocently.

“You said this was wrong. Those were your words,” I remind
him.

“Do
you
think it's wrong?” He takes another step
toward me, and looks down at me.

“I—”

His hand reaches around my waist. “Does it
feel
wrong?”

“Yes…No,” I breathe. I barely have time to inhale before his
mouth is on mine. His mouth tastes like whiskey, but I don't care. I wrap my
hands around his neck and he grabs my ass with both hands, our kiss picking up
right where our last one broke off. I dig my fingers into his hair as our
mouths open to one another. He pulls me roughly against him and groans deep in
his throat as our bodies collide. Suddenly he stumbles back, steadying himself
on my shoulders.

“Sorry,” he whispers, shaking his head as though to clear
it. “Will you just stay with me for a while?”

“Yes, of course,” I reply immediately, even though I'm taken
aback by his request. I watch him turn to his bed and crawl over to his pillow,
then curl up on his side and look at me expectantly. I pause, then follow him,
crawling across the bedspread and curling around his back. I bury my head
between his shoulder blades then drape my arm over his waist, and feel him take
my hand in his and pull me closer against him.

I lie as still as I can, barely breathing. I can't believe
he's letting me touch him like this. Well, he is wasted, but still. I never
thought he'd be so vulnerable around me. I hear his breathing deepen.

“I've always looked up to him,” he murmurs, startling me.

“I know,” I whisper back, knowing that he's talking about
his dad.

“I don't know what I would do if he—”

“I know,” I murmur, softly kissing the back of his neck. He
stills on his pillow, and his breathing slows down again.

I stay with him for a while, until I know he's asleep. I
need to understand Nate's feelings about his mother before I tell him what she
told me. His world is already falling apart around him, and I don't want to
make it happen faster. I sigh. I should probably go back to my room.

I turn over with a sigh and frown. My sheets feel different,
and the light coming in from the window is much too bright. I blink my eyes
open and then sit up with a gasp.

I’m in Nate’s room.

“It's OK.” I glance up to see Nate sitting at his desk with
a glass of water, his tousled hair sticking out at odd angles. “They left early
this morning for meetings. Your door is closed, so they thought you were still
asleep in there.”

“Oh, good,” I reply. I realize my nightgown is riding
dangerously high on my thigh and pull up the sheet self-consciously.

“Coffee,” Nate says, pointing to the bedside table next to
me. I glance over and see he's placed a steaming cup there. “Cream and one
sugar, right?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I reply, reaching for it.

“Sorry about last night. I don't remember anything after I
got home.”

I smile even though I'm disappointed that he doesn't
remember the kiss. “You were drunk, and just asked me to stay here for a bit. I
didn't mean to fall asleep.” I glance at the clock. “Shit, it's almost eleven?
I never sleep that late.”

“I didn't get up 'til nine—that's late for me.”

My mind quickly returns to my concerns from last night. “I—I
know you don't like to talk about this, but your mom—”

“What about her?” he says, already sounding defensive. I
need to tread carefully.

“I know that it's painful to talk about, I just wanted to
know: why did she leave?”

Nate crosses his arms over his chest. “Eileen left because
she couldn't handle being a mother.”

“What do you mean? How so?”

“I was out of control when I was a kid, and she couldn't
handle it. Couldn't handle me.”

“That's what your dad told you.”

“That's what happened,” Nate replies, frowning at me. “I
still remember the night she left. They went out for dinner, and I stayed home
with a babysitter. One of many, because I kept driving them away, and I
misbehaved again. I threw a tantrum, broke a glass…I'm pretty sure the
babysitter quit as soon as my parents got home. Anyway, they got in this big
fight—I could hear it even in my bedroom—and the next day she left.”