Beautiful Brute: A Stepbrother College Romance (Court University Book 3)

by Eden O'Neill

  “Honey. Hon-ey.” She squeezed me, making me drop my bag. I laughed. She grinned. “Gah. I feel like I don’t even have a daughter. You don’t text me nearly enough!”

  By “not enough,” she must not find her updates from me only every few days acceptable. I always texted her back when she texted me.

  “Of course, I’m exaggerating,” she said, pulling away. She tugged at my braid. “Now, tell me all about your news as we finish dinner up.”

  Her arm slung around me as my adoptive father filled the hallway, a wide grin on his face as he wiped his hands with a kitchen towel.

  “There’s my peaches.” He kissed the top of my head, getting my other side. “Safe drive, sweetheart?”

  “Very safe. Quiet.” I forced my smile. “And what is that? Smells so good.”

  Probably not commonplace, but as a family, we always made birthday dinners together regardless of whose birthday it was. The way my parents put it was, those types of things could always be catered. We could always go out and make a huge thing of it, but there was nothing like gathering around in the kitchen and cooking together. To catch up more than anything and that’s literally what we did after I got my things put away.

  As it turned out, we were making Dad’s favorite, lasagna. The dish was simple, but again, that wasn’t the point. With all of us being busy, spending time together was the most important thing.

  I was immediately handed my apron and joined the two already at work. I definitely needed an upgrade since I still rocked My Little Pony. I felt pretty silly wearing it, but it was always a fun topic to poke at and not just by my parents. I got just as much fun having a laugh at it too.

  Dad wore his “Kiss the Cook” apron while Mom’s looked like something Julia Child would wear. It had frills and everything.

  “So tell us why we haven’t heard from you.” Mom eyed me, pulling that lasagna out. They’d already gotten it started, so the longest part of the meal was done. In fact, other than putting together a salad and plating the sides, my parents pretty much had everything covered. I found myself grateful since I was tired from the drive.

  “Just been busy,” I said, thinking about how I’d been busy. I hoped my cheeks hadn’t colored when I threw croutons on the salad. “What about you? Why haven’t you texted me?”

  Really, this was a running joke. I definitely talked to them every few days, and since Mom knew that, she stuck her tongue out at me.

  “Leave her alone, love.” Laughing, Dad hugged his arms around my mom’s waist. Those two were seriously sickeningly perfect together. So dang cute. He hugged her. “Absolutely no fighting on my birthday.”

  “Only if my child puts her lip away.” Mom winked, then patted Dad’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get this stuff together so we can eat.”

  She actually groaned while saying it, which made us all laugh. Mom took the majority of the plated sides while I finalized the salad and Dad took the bread rolls out of the pan. He arranged those while Mom whisked away the sides we’d already gotten together to the dining room.

  “Everything okay, though, honey?” Dad asked, peering up at me. He tossed the oven mitt he’d been using away. “Your mom’s joking about the updates, but she really wanted updates. Like really wanted. You know her. She could talk to you every hour if you or I’d let her.”

  Laughing, I did. I rolled my eyes. “Things have been swell. And I’ve been good.”

  “Yeah?” He came over, lounging a hip against the counter. “No issues with your coursework?”

  “Nope.”

  “No, um,” he started, and when he didn’t finish, my lashes flickered up. He’d been moving a hand on his jaw, as if considering something. He placed his hands on the counter. “No problems?”

  I stopped adding things to the salad, putting a bag of shredded carrots down. “No. I’ve been fine. Really.”

  “I just worry, you know? That weekend? With Jax?” He shook his head. “It didn’t go how I planned.”

  We’d all been well aware of it. But maybe, it was time, I did understand his lack of candor. I knew he was my parent, but I was at the age where neither of them needed to keep stuff from me. Stuff involving the family anyway.

  Jax was his family.

  The doorbell rang, and Dad’s eyes flickered in that direction. He started to go until Mom yelled, “I’ll get it!” from somewhere in the house.

  A smile before Dad pushed off the island. Putting an arm around me, he squeezed my shoulder. “Of course, you’re okay. You always are.”

  I tried to be for the most part. I still had a lot of work to do, but things didn’t have to be okay if they weren’t. He didn’t have to be okay if he wasn’t. He put on such a strong face. “Dad—”

  “We have a visitor, darling.”

  Dad and I turned to find a visitor indeed.

  He held a bottle of wine.

  Next to my mother, my stepbrother Jaxen towered, like literally an expansive structure and that was just his height. Shoulder to shoulder, he filled so much of the kitchen I questioned that the room was three times the size of most.

  Mom stood quietly beside him, looking exceedingly happy, albeit worried. The unease wrinkled her brow just enough for me to notice. She placed a hand out in my stepbrother’s direction. “Jax is here, guys.”

  We both saw that. Jax, with a large bottle of Merlot in his hands. Jax wearing a sweater with product in his hair like he ever did anything like that. He had the dusky locks pulled back, perfect and looking like a politician’s son. His sweater cuffed tight as his biceps and shoulders, chillier today, which was why he probably brought it out. I’d actually worn a jacket on my drive over.

  He looked good. No, more than good, but where I was used to smiles starting to surface when we were solely together, not an inkling of that touched his expression now. His jaw was tight, his eyes cold and narrowed. He definitely noticed my adoptive father.

  He definitely noticed me with my adoptive father.

  Something I took for heat touched Jax’s eyes, something I most certainly took note of. Rick dropped his arm from around me, and Jax noticed that too. His eyes flicked to it before finding my eyes. Honestly, it had taken me aback a little bit.

  I’d gotten so used to him being another way as of late.

  “Hey,” I said, immediately coming over. I wanted to redirect his attention, get some of that light back.

  Shifting, he didn’t give me much of that, though. “Hey.”

  “You came.”

  “Yeah,” he said, but it took a second for him to actually see me. He’d been staring back at my dad. His lips parted. “That’s, um, if it’s still okay.”

  “Of course, it is.” Mom had said it, Dad just standing there. I think, mostly due to shock. He hadn’t moved since Jax arrived. Mom waved a hand in his direction. “Right, Rick.”

  “Of course, yes.” Awestruck, Dad blinked for the first time since the environment had changed. He pushed a hand behind his neck. “I’m happy you came. Yes, and thank you. For coming that is.”

  “Happy birthday,” Jax said, but parted their gazes to glance at me. He put the wine out. “I brought, um…”

  Smiling, I took it. And God, did I want to kiss him. God, did I want to thank him. It was so good he was here.

  Good for both of them.

  “Thank you… son,” Dad said, so awkward when, before that weekend, he’d never been around Jax. Dad wrestled with his hands. “We were just about to start, so perfect timing.”

  A nod on Jax’s end, and with this exchange, Mom appeared absolutely giddy. She took the wine from me, beaming. “Well, I’ll go get the bucket for this. Cleo, wine glasses?”

  I could definitely do that. Quickly, I went to get them while Mom directed other duties. She had Dad go ahead and go to the dining room since he was the guest of honor.

  “And if you don’t mind, the rolls, Jax?” she requested, smiling at him. She had the wine and bucket at this point, raising it. “We’re really happy you’re here.�
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  “Thank you.”

  Another smile before she winked at me. All too quickly, she skidded out of the room, and though Jax got the bread and I got the glasses, I touched his arm before we left the kitchen.

  Instead of saying anything to him, I just kissed his cheek, lingering there.

  I think I said all I had to say, so grateful he was here.

  I just hoped this night went okay.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cleo

  I’d like to say the evening produced some miracles after that, that after more than one occurrence of tension and unsaid words, suddenly all parties involved were forthcoming. I wanted to say, around the dinner table on my adoptive father’s birthday, that my stepbrother smiled and engaged. That he’d been open like he seemed to be finally doing with me and that he and Dad really had a moment.

  But that just didn’t happen.

  Dinner ended up being nothing more than clanking dishes and awkward silences when my mom was trying to make the room mingle. That was just who she was, the fixer, the helper. Whenever there was tension, she handled it, and though I aided her, trying to push on those conversations, Dad and Jax still didn’t directly talk to one other. Jaxen himself basically only spoke when directly addressed, and Dad, though he did probe conversation, never did so distinctly to his biological son. My adoptive father would mention open topics, ones for all, and never pushed Jax to speak.

  Maybe he should have.

  Maybe then the dinner wouldn’t have been basically Mom and me trying to play happy family. The two were stubborn as hell, clearly, and if my family didn’t think I knew something was up, they thought me stupid. People just didn’t not talk to each other.

  Not unless they had a reason anyway.

  It was like Dad didn’t want to make waves and Jax wasn’t trying to be the one to move them. Because of that, the pair were at a standstill, and before I knew it, dinner was over and Mom was urging me to help her with dessert in the kitchen. She’d ordered a lemon meringue pie earlier that day, I guessed, only store-bought because it was from my adoptive father’s favorite bakery. I offered just to get it myself, but surprisingly, she came with. This left two people who probably shouldn’t be in the same room by themselves, so the minute we got the pie plated, I rushed back to get it to them.

  That was until my mom touched my hand.

  “Help me with some of the dishes first, won’t you, love? So there’s not so many after we’re all done?” she asked, out of the blue.

  I thought to protest, but Mom immediately headed over to the dishwasher and started loading. I frowned with the pie plates. “Shouldn’t we…”

  “Give them a moment,” she said, like she knew. She jerked her head over to the dishwasher. “Rick and your stepbrother just need a minute. Just a minute.”

  She said it like a mantra, like it was more so to herself. Though I wanted to listen to my mother—I mean, that was my mother—I wasn’t sure she was right on this.

  Even still, I slid the pie plates on the kitchen island uneaten. I handed her the plates we’d gathered from the table before we came into the kitchen, but I wasn’t happy about it.

  “Why do they need a moment?” I asked her after a beat. I was so completely tired of being left out of everything, like there was some big secret. Like everyone was on some big ride without me. “What’s going on with them? Why—”

  “What’s going on is personal between them,” she said, sighing.

  “But you know?”

  She stopped her hand on the washer. “I know because he’s my husband.”

  “So because you’re married I’m just, what? The kid?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, that’s what it feels like.”

  A head shake. “Jax and your dad have a lot of history. A history that has nothing to do with either of us. I only know because we’re married.”

  So she did know something. I figured as much. I handed her a dish. “Well, can you tell me what happened last weekend then?”

  “Last weekend?”

  I eyed her. I wasn’t stupid, and she needed to stop treating me like I was. I wasn’t a kid anymore, and it was insulting. “Before it started, Dad was acting completely different. Happy?” I shook my head. “Next thing I know, you guys were whispering about stuff.”

  “We weren’t whispering.” Mom pulled a veil of hair off her brow. “We were discussing.”

  “Discussing what?”

  “An incident that happened on the golf course. An incident that happened between your dad and Jax.” Mom frowned. “He and Rick had some kind of disagreement. One that led to Jaxen walking off the course and leaving your father heartbroken.”

  “Why?”

  Mom placed her hand on my arm. “Rick was under the impression Jaxen was by no means okay when Jaxen initially came down here, but was open. Well, after the golf course…” Mom sighed. “Rick picked up some very heavy animosity on Jaxen’s end. Animosity toward him, and honestly, I don’t blame the kid. Not after what he thinks happened all those…” Waving the words away, she hugged her arms. “I just wish Rick would tell him the truth. Maybe he will now that they’re together.”

  I opened my mouth to ask what truth.

  A door slam stopped the thought.

  A crash of glass followed, making both Mom and me jump. She rushed out of the kitchen, and I followed her.

  Another slam rattled the house along the way, the front door this time, as Mom and I watched it shut. We both stopped on glass in the hall, and it didn’t take a scientist to realize where the glass in the hall had come from.

  On the other side of the hall, the french doors to the dining room were flung open, the glass inside them completely shattered. Mom and I had closed them when we left.

  And only one person was in the dining room now.

  That person was my adoptive father, his hands closed into a fist. He rested his mouth against it, his expression completely crestfallen.

  “Rick…” Mom’s lips parted, rushing over to him. “Rick, what happened? Oh my God.”

  It was like he didn’t see her, staring through her. She sat beside him, and he didn’t even move. She touched his shoulder. “What happened? Did you…” She shook her head. “Did you tell him?”

  My dad finally sat back, his head shaking. “I couldn’t,” he murmured, his eyes closing. “I just couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

  An engine revving pulled me away from the conversation, away from everything since it was so familiar. Jaxen was leaving.

  Why was he leaving?

  I didn’t know, but I was going after him, and when Mom called my name, I didn’t answer. I rushed away, over glass and outside. It was like I had this pure dread inside me. That if Jaxen left here today whatever damage had been done wouldn’t be able to be undone. Like this was it.

  Like there was no going back.

  I got outside, and he was already behind the wheel. I only knew because his car was running. His windows heavily tinted, I couldn’t see him and did the only thing I could do.

  I ran in front of his car.

  I got right behind as he backed out, my adrenaline pulsing, and his tires screeched so bad, burning rubber hit the air.

  “Cleo, what the fuck!”

  Out of his car and on me, holding and shaking my arms. He was pissed, his whole face three colors of red. “What the hell is wrong with you? I could have fucking hit you. Did you want that?”

  I just… hadn’t wanted him to go, hadn’t thought. It’d been like that day sailing. I just jumped in.

  I hadn’t thought.

  “Why are you going?” But then the tone changed, everything changed. Next thing I knew, he was letting go of me, like he remembered why he was leaving and headed back to his car. I grabbed at his arm, but he angled it away like I’d burn it if I touched him. “Jax…”

  Well aware of the plead in my voice, of the emotion. I didn’t know why, but it was there and the struggled screech nearly made h
is name unrecognizable.

  And he stopped against his car.

  His hands shifted ghost white on the top, his body stiff and shoulders shaking. It was like he was about to transform into something deadly.

  And I needed to get out of the way.

  “You don’t get to do that,” he said, the words incredibly dark. The back of his head shook. “You don’t get to.”

  “Do what?” The tremble of my voice, at this point, I couldn’t control. I was scared. I just didn’t know why. I wasn’t afraid of him, no, but the situation. I didn’t know what this was.

  Jax shoved around, his face beet red. Emotion completely colored his cheeks, his eyes strained and glassed. “Isn’t it enough that you have everything?” he asked, stalking closer. “That you get everything without having me too?”

  Words choked down in my throat, my swallow hard. “What do you mean?”

  A dry laugh and my fear did shift his way, his chest to my chest, his eyes to my eyes. He stared down at me, like I was beneath him.

  But what he’d said made it sound like it was the other way around.

  That he thought, for some crazy reason, he was beneath me, his hand rubbing his eyes before he shoved a finger in my face.

  “Well, you don’t get me too, Cleo,” he said, my heart threatening to bust, to shatter. “You don’t get to have that. That’s the one thing I can control, and you don’t get to have that. You don’t get to have me.”

  “Jaxen—”

  “Go back to your house,” he said, backing away. “Go back to your perfect life because that family inside is yours and that man inside is not my father. Never was.”

  “That’s not true. How could you say that?”

  “I didn’t, Cleo,” he continued, looking at the house now. He faced me. “He basically just did.”

  I… I couldn’t believe that, not for a second could I believe that. I knew that man.

  I knew his father.

  “Now, get away from my car,” he spat, growing three sizes in front of me. He smoldered. “And back the fuck up off me.”

  He did enough backing away for us both, leaving everything when he dodged inside his car. He slammed the door, and I did get out of his way this time.