Stepbrother With Benefits: An Opposites Attract Romance (Mason Family Book 2)

by Hazel Kelly

  “Thanks,” I said, taking it with a shaky hand and forcing myself to have a few sips.

  Mercedes folded her arms and cocked a hip. “Acceptance letter wallpaper will sell better, too. I didn’t want to mention it earlier but—”

  I laughed.

  “Last one,” Crystal said, handing me the letter from BELLE.

  I swallowed and thought of Maddy, wondering if she already knew what it said.

  Crystal nudged my shoulder. “What’ve you got to lose?”

  As soon as I realized it was more good news, my relief turned to tears, and the words blurred before me. I shoved the letter at Crystal and covered my face with my hands, trying to find a place behind my eyelids where I could make sense of what was happening, of what was about to happen.

  “They want you to come in for an interview, too,” she said. “Did you see this?”

  I dropped my hands and blinked to clear my eyes.

  “They’re looking for someone to write regular features on women’s issues, and they’d like to consider you for the position if you’re available.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I don’t know enough about writing to make jokes about it,” she said. “I do have some gags that go down a storm with my actuary friends, though.”

  “Spare us,” Mercedes said.

  Crystal glared at her. “You laughed at that one about the duck hunt.”

  “No one’s ever laughed at that,” she said. “Please don’t tell your new boytoy any of your geeky math jokes.”

  Crystal waved her plea away and turned back to me. “So what’s your article about, anyway?”

  I pressed my lips together.

  “Is it about the hot stepbrother you never brought around again because you’re a shitty friend?”

  “I am a shitty friend,” I admitted. “The very worst.”

  “Not the very worst,” Crystal said, shooting Mercedes a look.

  “Promise you won’t hate me when I tell you?”

  She recoiled. “Hate you? Girl, please. You know I’d stab a bitch for you even if that bitch were myself.”

  “Thanks.”

  She crossed her legs towards me and laid a hand over mine. “I’m listening.”

  All the shoulda-couldas swirled in my head, mixing with the guilt I felt for not giving her a chance to be there for me. Especially because she would’ve been. All I had to do was ask. But it was too late to go back and do things differently. The best I could do was let her be there for me now. And even though every cell of my being didn’t want to talk about what happened, I knew I’d be sick if my article got published before I at least tried to verbalize the events of that day.

  So I took a deep breath, and I told her everything.

  About Professor Herstall. About what he did to me. About how weak and stupid and helpless he made me feel. And she held me while I cried in her arms, held me until I felt better.

  And then I told her about James. About all of it. Everything. From the kiss after Cassidy’s to the Halloween party to his recent invitation, which I was still pretending to consider.

  And she told me what a bitch I was for keeping such a happy secret.

  But she held me all the same, held me until I felt forgiven.

  Held me until I felt brave again.

  F I F T Y O N E

  - James -

  If I damaged Hermione, there was going to be hell to pay, but Brie was due home any minute, and I was determined to make it look like the stubborn child wizard was holding the damn balloons. Eventually, I was able to secure a few of them to her hip with a paperclip before scattering the rest around the kitchen. When I envisioned it, the scene looked less like a kid’s birthday party, but it was the best I could do on short notice.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered. There was a good chance Brie would think the colorful display was a bit over the top, but at least the girl at the party store hadn’t insisted I add glitter to the equation.

  As for the balloons, I stuck with a motivational theme, stocking up on the ones that said You did it, Well done, and Proud of you. As for Hermione, I only invited her to the party to be funny. It’s not like I became a fan somewhere before the end of the second book.

  When I heard the back door open, I ducked behind the long butcher block and listened carefully for Brie’s steps, knowing it would take a few to get through the mudroom and then… “Surprise!” I jumped up with my hands in the air to find a wide-eyed Brie clutching her sagging purse to her shoulder.

  “What’s going on?”

  “BELLE’s going to print your article!”

  “I know,” she said, cocking her head when she noticed Hermione by the kitchen table.

  “Quinn told me this afternoon.”

  She squinted towards me. “Quinn?”

  “I guess Maddy gets a mockup of the magazine in advance.”

  “I see.”

  “I thought you’d be excited.”

  “I am,” she said. “I’m just a little overwhelmed.”

  Shit. “In that case, ignore the balloons. They aren’t for you, anyway. Hermione and I were just—”

  “It’s not the balloons,” she said, her eyes smiling.

  “What is it?”

  She dug some letters out of her bag and held them out to me. “BELLE isn’t the only publication that wants to print it.”

  I took the stack of envelopes from her and turned towards the counter to look through them.

  “My first four yeses,” she said. “All on the same day.”

  I scanned the one from BELLE. “They want you to come work for them?”

  “They want me to interview,” she said, stepping up beside me.

  She seemed so relaxed. How was she not freaking out? “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t think it’s sunk in yet.”

  “Not sunk in?!” I waved the letters in the air. “There are four yeses here!”

  Her eyes sparkled.

  “Aren’t you ecstatic?”

  “Of course,” she said. “It’s just a bit surreal.” She glanced back at Hermione, perhaps clocking her party hat for the first time. “Plus, I thought I would be proud of myself when this finally happened, but…”

  “But what?”

  “I’m mostly scared,” she said. “I thought I would feel more in control if the article got printed, but I don’t feel that way at all.”

  I grabbed her by the shoulders and stooped to meet her gaze. “Brie.”

  She blinked at me.

  “I’ve never been prouder of anyone in my whole life than I am of you right now.”

  She swallowed.

  “Not because your article got accepted,” I said. “If it wasn’t this article, it would’ve been another.”

  Her brow furrowed. “So what are you proud of exactly?”

  “The fact that you made your voice heard. The fact that you have something to say, and you said it without waiting for anyone’s permission because you knew it was important.”

  Her eyes watered.

  “You’re my fucking hero.”

  “You didn’t have to do all this.”

  “No way I wasn’t going to mark the occasion,” I said, dropping my hands. “This is a big deal whether you realize it or not.”

  “People submit articles all the time.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t care about those people,” I said. “Besides, you wrote something important, something that puts you on the right side of history.”

  “There’s no telling the kind of worms that are going to come out of this can.”

  “There is only one worm in this story, and there’s no question he’ll be canned when this goes public.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “You think?”

  I nodded. “This is all going to work out. And when it does, just remember you were my hero first.”

  She threw her eyes to the sky.

  “Have you told your mom?”

  She shook her head.

  I picked up th
e house phone and dialed my dad’s cell.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Spreading the good news,” I said, lifting the phone to my ear. “Your mom doesn’t want to hear this from someone else. Trust me.”

  Brie’s mouth fell open, and by the time my dad picked up, almost all the color had drained from her cheeks.

  “Hey Dad? It’s James. Is Nancy there with you?”

  “Of course,” he said. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Put her on. Brie has some good news.” I set the phone on speaker and handed it to her.

  “Hello?” Brie said tentatively.

  “Hi, honey. What’s the good news?”

  Her eyes found mine. “One of my articles got accepted,” she said, her lips curving. “Four different publications want to run it.”

  “That’s fantastic!” Nancy said. “Is that even allowed?”

  Brie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll have to pick one? I mean, I mentioned in my submissions that I was sending it to other places, so that might be why some of the other magazines rejected it.”

  “Their loss, honey. Very proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  I held up a leftover card from my last trip to the ice cream parlor that said, “Tell her you’ve moving in with me.” As soon as she read it, I revealed another that said, “C’mon. You know you want to.”

  Brie attempted a scowl, but her eyes gave away her amusement. “Also…”

  I held my breath.

  “I’m thinking about moving in with James when his place is finished.”

  “Really?” her mom asked.

  Brie’s chest lifted with a nervous breath. “Yeah.”

  “That’s wonderful,” her mom said. “I’m so glad you’re getting along so well.”

  We both smiled at that, our smiles deepening when our eyes met.

  “My dad still there?” I asked, taking a step closer.

  “Still here,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “I’m in love.”

  Brie’s eyes grew wide.

  “No kidding,” he said. “That’s fantastic. When can I meet her?”

  Brie looked at me anxiously.

  “You already have,” I said, wondering if he’d put the pieces together on his own.

  “I’m sorry, James.” The confusion in his voice was tangible. “I don’t remember.”

  “Her name is Brie, and she’s a professional writer.”

  Brie slapped her hands over her face but peeked at me between her fingers.

  “Am I missing something?” my dad asked.

  “Only something you missed for years,” I said, keeping my eyes on her.

  “James—”

  “I’m going to hang up now, so you guys don’t say anything you’ll regret about all this happy news.” My thumb hovered over the end call icon. “You’re welcome.” I hit the red button and looked up, finding Brie before me with a bewildered look on her face, her eyes blinking irregularly like a doll that’s been turned upside down too many times. “What?”

  F I F T Y T W O

  - Brie -

  My shock had become a runaway train I could no longer keep up with. “James! That was craz—”

  James’s phone started ringing, and we both looked towards it.

  “Don’t,” he said. “They clearly haven’t thought about it.”

  “What were you thinking?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the last five minutes.

  “I was thinking about us,” he said, stepping up to me. “I was thinking there’s no time like the present to tell people good news.”

  I glanced back at the phone where it was vibrating across the counter.

  “Instead of answering,” he said, speaking slowly until I looked back at him. “Why don’t you tell me what you want her to say.”

  I took a deep breath, taking a moment to consider the question. “I guess I want her to say she’s happy for us and thinks we make a great couple.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Definitely don’t answer it.”

  I laughed, realizing the ridiculousness of what I’d said. After all, my mom and James’s dad weren’t the type to put other people’s happiness before their own. They just weren’t. And whether that was because they were selfish by nature or because they were both recovering addicts didn’t matter. All that mattered was the realization that I probably shouldn’t live for the approval of others, regardless of whether they deserved my respect.

  “They’ll come around,” he said. “Give them time to let this sink in.”

  “And what if they don’t?” I asked, relieved when the phone stopped ringing. “What if they can never accept this or be happy for us?”

  He shrugged. “Whatever story they want to tell themselves about whether we deserve our happiness is really none of our business.”

  “It’s my mom, though, James.”

  “I know,” he said. “And you’ve turned out pretty well despite her unorthodox parenting style.”

  I cocked my head.

  “Look,” he said, his expression growing serious. “I know her opinion matters to you, but don’t let it interfere with all the good stuff that’s coming your way.”

  “You mean good stuff like you?”

  He tipped my chin. “Take a chance on me, Brie. I promise I’ll take better care of you than she ever did.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “She’ll come around,” he said. “They’ll pray on it, realize this is out of their hands, and they’ll chalk it up to God.”

  It sounded too good to be true, but he had a point. “That is probably what they’ll do.”

  The phone started ringing again.

  “It is,” he said. “Just as soon as they stop having this knee jerk reaction.”

  “What about your dad?” I asked. “Aren’t you worried he won’t approve?”

  “Of course,” he said, leaning against the counter. “But I’ve voiced my disapproval over lots of choices he’s made, and it hasn’t made a lick of difference.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  “He literally ripped my family apart, royally screwed up my mom’s life, and has broken my heart in ways I didn’t know it could break.”

  My chest ached at his sad admission.

  “So not only am I convinced I don’t need his approval, but the more I think about it, the less I want him anywhere near you.”

  “It’s different with my mom,” I said. “I’m all she has.”

  “She has my dad. And Jesus.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “You know what I mean, too,” he said. “And it’s not that I don’t want them to be happy for us. Of course I want that. But we’ve put us on hold long enough. And no one’s ever going to ask us what we want or what’s best for us. We have to take it.”

  The phone stopped and started again.

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t answer just so they know it’s not a prank and that we’re okay?”

  He sighed and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  The muffled sound of his dad’s angry voice came bursting through the receiver for two long seconds before he hung up again. “They haven’t prayed on it yet.”

  My mouth stretched wide like the nervous emoji. “He sounded mad.”

  “He sounded like a man who was about to say things he’d regret if I didn’t stop him.”

  “What if he’s genuinely horrified?” I asked. “What if he doesn’t have to think about it?”

  “Then I pick you.”

  His lack of hesitation startled me.

  “I love them, want the best for them, and would never wish any harm to come their way, but I pick you.”

  My eyes searched his. “Are you sure about all this?”

  “About what? Loving you or asking you to move in?”

  “Both.”

  “Well, I only have control over the latter.”

  A sly smile teased my lips. “Your love for me is out of control?
”

  “My love for you is like the love Hermione has for Harry and Ron all rolled into one.”

  I laughed.

  “It’s like that six thousand calorie shake you made for me when I came into Homer’s.”

  “Hey,” I said, pointing at him. “You asked for that.”

  “It’s a barrel drifting towards the edge of Niagara Falls.”

  “Enough.”

  “My love for you is Kim Kardashian’s ass.”

  I buried my face in my hands.

  “My love for you—”

  I raised my palms to stop him. “I get it, okay. Your love is out of control.” I stared into his kind eyes, my whole body glowing from their warmth. And in my periphery, I could see all the congratulatory balloons he’d set up to make my lucky break even more special.

  “You are going to move in, right? Because if you’re not, you should tell me so I stop practicing sleeping on the left side of the bed.”

  I squinted at him. “How do you know I like the right?”

  “Because you drift to that side even if I’m there.”

  “Maybe that’s why I do it?”

  He studied me for a moment like he was trying to decide if I was messing with him before his face relaxed. “I’m not really precious about which side of the bed I sleep on. Just that you’re in it beside me.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  “I’m a sweet guy.”

  I glanced down at my toes, which wiggled with happy anticipation like even they knew it was true.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ve always wanted a roommate who gives great head and always has something to write with.”

  I laughed and looked up at him. “Didn’t see that coming.”

  “I’m not opposed to changing my pitch.”

  “Just as long as you get the girl?”

  He laughed. “You’re got, Brie. Give it up.”

  “I am got, aren’t I?”

  He looked me up and down. “You’re got from where I’m standing.”

  I took a deep breath and held it in, knowing I’d regret it forever if I didn’t take a chance on the filthy prince before me. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll move in with you.”

  His broad smile lit me up, and he pulled me into his strong arms, hugging me until I felt so small and safe I found myself wishing he could carry me in his pocket.