STEPBROTHERS (3 Book Stepbrother Romance Collection) (12 page)

I was in a state of trance as my hands were cuffed behind me and a cop read me my rights. Monique was losing it, crying loudly as Alan sputtered, desperate for air.

What had I done?
I asked myself with horror. I’d almost killed a man... Almost wasted my future on that sack of shit.

“
B
ye
, Mila! See you Monday!”

“Bye Priscilla, have a good weekend.” I waved at my work colleague as I made my way out of the office and into the busy street. A smile was plastered on my face as I hailed down a cab and gave the driver my home address.

A year ago, I would have been scrambling for enough change to take the bus home, and now I was able to take a taxi. My life had really changed, and definitely for the better. At least, I could make myself believe that six days out of seven in the week.

As I came home to a cute two up two down detached house I rented, I walked into the kitchen, feeling the stress of tight deadlines that came with the job lift off my shoulders, at least for the duration of the weekend.

“Hey, I’m home!” I called out to the quiet house then heard footsteps reverberate through the upstairs floorboards.

Suzanne was rushing downstairs, almost taking the steps two at a time, a big smile dominating her face. She hugged me even though we’d seen one another only that morning, and I was once again so thankful to have my cousin’s support.

“What you smiling at?”

“Oh, nothing your pretty little head has to worry about at the moment.”

I narrowed my eyes at her with suspicion. She was up to her old tricks again. But I wouldn’t be without her. Suzanne had been a Godsend the past few months, and I was so glad she came to stay with me for a little while, whilst she was in-between jobs.

I excused myself for a quick second and rushed upstairs.

“
A
re you hungry
?” Suzanne asked me a few minutes later when I entered in the kitchen, and before I could answer, pulled a pot roast out of the oven with a big smile.

I shook my head with a smile. “You’re amazing. I don’t tell you that enough, you know?” I gushed.

“You should definitely tell me how great I am more often,” Suzanne nodded solemnly, and poured us two glasses of wine as well.

We sat down at the counter and toasted, relaxing in companionable silence as we drank.

As the wine loosened our tongues, we chatted about work and then ate, the food so delicious it melted in my mouth. It definitely felt good to be home after such a long day at work.

“What did you do today?” I asked Suzanne curiously. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, of course,” she nodded and gave me a sideways glance. “I did get some news from home from my mom, though.”

I raised my eyebrows, urging her to go on and she took a quick sip of her wine before letting me know the news.

“Well, it turns out a certain couple has finally finalised their divorce,” she said in hushed tones.

I pursed my lips in annoyance. I didn’t want to talk about that, and looked away immediately and busied myself with cutting the meat.

I’d been doing so well not thinking of him, of what he was doing, how he was and every other question in between. A year ago, it had almost killed me walking away… I’d cried for days, but had found the strength to ignore all his calls and texts until eventually I resorted to switching my number.

“Monique and Dev,” Suzanne clarified, waiting for my reaction. But there was none - that chapter of my life was over and done with, at least that’s what I tried to tell myself. It was far from over… I knew one day questions would be asked and I’d probably no longer have the willpower to lie.

“Aren’t you gonna say something?” Suzanne asked pointedly and I rolled my eyes, heaving a sigh.

“I don’t care, Suzanne,” I told her, my voice on edge, tense. “I really don’t. And I don’t want to hear another word about it, either.”

My cousin was about to object when there was a knock at the door. We exchanged confused glances, but in the end I got up and walked over to the door.

I opened it wide and my mouth gaped in shock when I saw who was standing on my welcome mat.

“Dad!” I said, a smile already on my lips. It’d be so long since I’d last seen him. I’d always made excuses about being too busy with the new job to come visit or for him to come here, but shit, I never thought he’d show up unannounced. He hadn’t called, and I hoped nothing was wrong…

Also, there was absolutely no way I could let him in.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you, silly. Show some love for your old man,” my Dad laughed, and pulled me into a bear-like hug, slapping me on the back roughly so I sputtered. We laughed and there was genuine warmth between us, but I was still so nervous as his loafer-covered foot breached the threshold.

“Who’s there?” a voice asked from behind me, and Suzanne rushed out.

“As if you don’t already know, you scheming…” I cut myself short, filtering myself in front of my dad. But instead I gave her my frostiest look and her look changed from happiness to utter guilt.

“You told him?” I hissed at my cousin angrily.

“Told him what?” Suzanne chirped, and I could tell she had indeed been in contact with my father.

“Don’t have a go at her. I made her tell me where you lived,” he piped up from the door. “I’ve had enough of the phone calls, Mila. We need to see each other - are we not a family in the end? I don’t get what the big secret is, either. It’s not like you live in a shack… actually it looks quite lovely.”

I could feel my face growing paler and paler and I thought I was going to pass out any moment.

“Well, are you going to invite me in, or what?”

“Actually, Dad, do you want to grab a coffee?” I finally asked, needing to get away from the house as fast as possible.

He looked surprised for a moment and considered the prospect, but finally nodded with a smile on his face. “Yes, that would be lovely. But, as long as I get the full tour later on. Shall we go now?”

My nod was so jerky it was almost violent as I gave Suzanne a desperate look. “You’ll stay here, right?” I asked her.

She frowned at me then widened her eyes, trying to communicate her question:
Are you not going to tell him?!

I stared right back and shook my head almost imperceptibly. Finally, she sighed then nodded that she would stay as her eyes darted from mine to my dad’s.

“Okay, we can go,” I said, the relief evident in my voice. I was just about to shut the door when a sound filled the entire house, pulling at my heartstrings as it stopped us in our tracks.

“What was that?” my father asked with a shaky voice.

“Nothing!” I said as the door closed, hoping he’d forget and that would be the end of it. But my dad was stubborn and I’d been perhaps too quick to reply. However, it was too late anyway as the sound flowed out through a cracked-open front window again.

The racket of a baby crying.

My dad and I locked eyes, the realisation growing in his gaze, and pure horror settling in mine.

D
riving to Sunday lunch
, my hand hung out of the window, enjoying the breeze coming through into the car. A mellow song played on the radio, but it wasn’t doing anything for my mood. My mouth was pursed in a thin line as I drove - today was not one of the good days.

I kept thinking about her... Mila.

It’d been a year since she left and we haven’t been in contact at all.

I tried for a while to contact her, but nothing I did worked. And reluctantly, I moved on. But there were always those days, days like today, when every fifth second I’d wonder what she was doing in that same moment. Was she outside too, the breeze caressing her skin as it did mine? And the sun on her sweet kissable face?

But after my stepfather bailed me out a year ago, I realised I needed to get my shit together. I couldn’t pull Mila down along with me, I needed to get back on my feet and do what was right.

So I swallowed my pride and apologised to Monique, and with gritted teeth, Alan, her boss, love… whatever. And thankfully they dropped all charges. She was acting all high and mighty, but in the end, we had the most civil talk we’d had in years leading up to the end of our marriage.

She hadn’t been happy, and I knew I had something to do with that, too. I had been trying, but she even admitted that nothing I could’ve done, not even giving her the baby she desperately wanted, would’ve made her happy with
us
. We both came to the conclusion that we’d been a bad, incompatible match right from the start and knew our break-up had been a long time coming. We actually chuckled on holding out for so long!

We’d gotten married way too fast, hadn’t given ourselves enough time together before committing. Monique wanted the fairy-tale, the rich successful husband, the kids, the big expensive house. A life a simple vet with a small contracting firm just couldn’t give her.

Now, a year later with our divorce finalised, she’d had her baby, a three-month-old little girl, and was much happier. And I was happy for her too…

It didn’t hurt to think about that, surprisingly. I knew she’d gotten what she had always wanted; I just wished I’d been able to move on like she had. Instead I’d lost on both flanks, my wife on one side, and Mila on the other.

Ever since Monique left, and since my only night with Mila, I hadn’t been with anyone. I tried to move on, fuck, I tried so hard. But it seemed impossible to see anyone as a potential partner. Sure, I went on dates, flirted even, but when the end of the night neared closer I realised the person sitting next to me at the dinner table just didn’t mean anything to me. I no longer saw the point in retelling my old weathered story over and over again to strangers that I had no interest in.

The only one I wanted was Mila.

I should have tried to reached out again and not taken no for an answer when I confronted Suzanne about her whereabouts, but there had to be a reason why she’d thought it best to ignore me. She left in a hurry, didn’t even leave a goodbye note. If that wasn’t a sure way of letting me know she wanted me gone, I didn’t know what was. She wanted nothing to do with me, didn’t care about my feelings.

And I chose to respect Mila’s decision, as much as it hurt to spend day after day without her there.

After the divorce was finalised a few weeks ago, I was able to keep the house. After all, my money had paid for it, and Monique seemed content with her boss’s expansive estate. I assumed money wasn’t an issue for her any more.

I stayed in town, a decision someone would think stupid. Maybe I should have left like Mila, left it all behind and started a new life in a different city. Maybe I was a fool, but I couldn’t leave. Something was keeping me here, maybe my roots or the memories that tied me to the house.

Pulling up in front of my destination, I turned the ignition off and got out of the car. I should have felt weird about coming here for lunch, but it felt good to have a routine, a place to go each week instead of sitting in an empty house staring at the four walls. There was no doubt I was in a rut, and I knew eventually that I’d regain my strength and dust myself off. In the meantime, when I’d lost everything, at least I still had my family to count on.

Except, of course, for my stepsister, the one I wanted the most… But I promised myself I wouldn’t dwell on that too much.

I rang the doorbell and waited to be greeted. My mother arrived moments later and enveloped me in a tight but stiff hug.

“Hello, Devan,” she said. Her voice was a little tense, but I chose not to inquire about it and followed her inside the house. My stepfather greeted me in the same formal way. They both seemed a little reserved.

But as we sat down to lunch, it became more and more obvious there was something plaguing their minds. My mother’s knife clattered to the floor as she distractedly reached for her wine glass, and I looked at them both with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, enough is enough. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what you mean, dear,” my mom replied, and waved away my question, dismissing it.

“Fine then, but have you heard from Mila?” I finally asked, my routine question of the week. I always asked about her, without fail, and they always gave me some bullshit answer.

But as soon as the question was out of my mouth, I saw them exchange guilty glances. There was definitely something going on and they were struggling whether or not to tell me. I pushed away my untouched wine glass, trying to distance myself from the dulling effect of the alcohol. I’d not touched a drop since Mila left and I wasn’t about to start now.

“Tell me what’s happened,” I said sternly, laying my knife and fork upon my plate as I stared my mother down. I assumed she would be the first one to break, but she wouldn’t meet my eye, keeping her gaze focused on the intricate design of the tablecloth.

I looked to my stepfather, Eddie, instead for answers, hoping to catch a break.

“You need to tell me, whatever it is. At least tell me is she okay? She’s not hurt is she?” I begged them, hoping to finally eek out a morsel of information to soothe my churning stomach. I needed to know what was going on - I knew it was important.

“You really care for her, don’t you?” my mother asked all of a sudden, her tone quiet. I looked at her desperately, realising I was going to break down if we kept this up.

“Of course, I do! She’s my family…” I swallowed hard, trying to keep my shit together. I was desperate to know what was going on, but I knew I had to play it cool if I was ever going to find out what they were hiding.

The sound of a chair being pushed backwards interrupted my panicked thoughts, and I looked up to see my stepfather leaving the room, his meal left unfinished. He walked out without giving me a second glance and my mother and I were left to sit in awkward silence.

“Mom?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry Devan, I can’t–”

“You can’t what?”

“Never mind,” she said and sighed.

Finally, I’d had enough. I got up myself and threw my napkin from my lap onto the table and I followed in my stepfather’s footsteps. Just as I was leaving the room I heard my mother heave another heavy sigh, and I knew I was on to something important.

I found my stepfather outside, spotting him in front of the fire pit from the kitchen window. He was busy setting up the fire, but I could see from the way his shoulders tensed up that he sensed my approach as I came closer.

Without saying a word, I knelt down next to him and helped him prepare the fire. We worked in silence, not even exchanging a silent glance. When we were done, we took a few steps back and admired the fire that started to crackle in its pit.

“Do you want a beer, son?” he asked me, interrupting the companionable silence that had been our only company for the past ten minutes.

“No thanks,” I replied, and we walked over to the patio where there were two chilled bottles waiting on the table. I assumed my mom had brought them over, and though I wasn’t about to ruin over eight-months of sobriety, a small smile played on my lips. I guessed she knew an important conversation was about to take place.

Eddie drank in silence for a while as I waited for him to begin, but the suspense was killing me. I needed to know what was going on, finally needed some closure after the long and torturous year I’d had.

“You know where she is, don’t you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible as my stepfather looked down guiltily.

“I do,” he finally admitted. “Mila is two states over. She has a new job. She got promoted about a year ago, but I think you already knew that from Suzanne.”

“Yes, but why wouldn’t she tell me? Why has she cut almost everyone out of her life? It makes no sense,” I said, the desperation in my voice obvious. I was at the point where I didn’t even care if he knew of my true feelings - I just needed to find her.

“That is Mila’s business, not mine,” he said sternly, giving me a hard look. “Look, son - I don’t know what happened between the three of you, but my daughter needed to get away. You should respect her decision.”

“I do, but what if that decision is wrong?” I asked quietly and my stepfather gave me a pondering look. For a moment I thought he would scold me, but he surprised me by raising his beer in a toast.

“Then, Devan,” he said solemnly, “you have to go there and ask her yourself… Make her see that she was wrong. You have to fight, this time around.”

I was genuinely surprised at his comments.

He was right, and I scolded myself for not fighting for her sooner. I’d mistakenly thought she’d needed space, a breather away from me. That perhaps she didn’t feel the same way. But regardless, if I were to have any hope of moving on, I had to go see her and tell her all that lay in my heart.