“Let’s go for a walk, Ralphie,” I murmured, kneeling down to press my face against his warm cheek. His tail began wagging frantically at the mention of his favorite thing in the world, banging against the wall so hard that it shook the delicate wooden keyholder I’d hand painted last month.
Love lives here is scrawled in pretty cursive across the uneven wood. I’d thought that was true then.
“Seriously?” Rick called from the kitchen, “I’ve almost got dinner ready and you’re just going to leave again?”
“He has to go out,” I shrugged, grabbing Ralph’s leash and clipping it quickly to his collar, “We’ll be back in ten minutes. You haven’t even started the pasta yet.”
“Pasta?” Rick murmured, followed shortly by a curt expletive as he rushed to the pantry.
With a roll of my eyes I took hold of the leash and headed back outside with my canine best friend in tow.
We walked quietly, my sneakers on the sidewalk and Ralph’s excited panting the only sound. We passed by our neighbors’ apartments, some of which already had their Christmas lights strung and cheerily blinking away. It was ridiculously early in the season still, but I paused to look at them, watching as the strands of red and green lights lit up to say Merry Christmas.
A few years ago, I was just like that. As soon as the first fall breeze hit I was putting up Christmas lights and decorating the whole interior with flashing red and green and mini Santa Claus’s on all the shelves and cabinets.
I couldn’t remember now why I’d stopped.
Oh. I suppose I could.
Rick wasn’t a fan of the holidays.
I would’ve settled for decorating for Halloween, fall in general, or even Thanksgiving, but Rick didn’t like change. He didn’t like it that first year we lived together when I lay out my red and green knit placemats and put up the miniature Christmas tree above the television. When I’d come back from the gallery the next day, all of it had been gone. Even Ralph’s festive collar had been replaced by his normal blue one.
We’d never talked about it. I took the hint quite quickly. We hadn’t even put up a Christmas tree that year.
Why? Why had I just accepted that? Why had I accepted the fragmented affection Rick gave me as love?
My whole core was confused. Every inch of me, from my toes to my eyelashes. It was like I couldn’t make sense of any of the jumbling emotions swirling around inside of me. It was all a mess. I was a mess. And I’d created it all by kissing Jaxon.
If only I hadn’t gone to the hotel yesterday to confront him, I would still be happy, as happy as I could be anyway.
My feet stopped as we rounded the corner to head back home and I suddenly realized I wanted to do anything but head back there. I could see our roof around the bend, waiting patiently with Rick inside grumbling to his spaghetti pot, and my familiar bed and my familiar couch and our dull carpet and dull walls.
The truth hit me like a bag of bricks swung directly at my skull. It hit so fast that I almost stumbled backwards, had I not been clutching Ralph’s leash.
I wasn’t happy.
I hadn’t been happy in a long time, but I’d accepted it because I thought it was the best I could do.
Ralph gazed up at me silently, sitting down on the sidewalk as though he knew just what I was about to do. He always seemed to know when my mind went somewhere crazy.
I knelt down beside him, ignoring how rough the concrete was on my knees, and wrapped my arms tight around his neck and buried my face against his ear. He gave a low content rumble in the back of his throat, lapping a sloppy kiss on my cheek before shifting so that his weight was pressed back against my chest.
“Today we’ll go back,” I murmured into his ear, “Tomorrow we’ll be gone.”
What should I do? I couldn’t live a lie anymore. I couldn’t stay in that house with a man who repulsed me, who didn’t care about me as anything more than the one who cleaned the kitchen and cooked dinner for him.
I couldn’t go back to my mom and dad’s house. I wasn’t a good liar. They would ask all sorts of questions about why Rick and I broke up, and I wasn’t sure how to tell them that it was because I kissed Jaxon and now realized how empty my life was. I didn’t make enough money to live on my own either.
Rick loved pointing out that I was using a hobby as a career, except my hobby sometimes cost more than my salary. I couldn’t support myself and Ralph, and there was no way that I was leaving my best friend with anyone but me.
Today, I had no options.
There would be nothing I could do tonight and no sense in leaving into the dark with only the moonlight to guide Ralph and me. We’d have to go back to that apartment, though every step was long and heavier than the previous, and we’d have burnt spaghetti and underdone noodles for dinner, and we would lay in beds that never felt quite comfortable enough, and we would hatch a plan tomorrow.
With a sigh, straightened and tugged Ralph toward the apartment. He gazed at me, refusing to budge for a whole two seconds before he finally pulled himself up to his feet, shook himself, and trotted along at my side. He wanted to go back as much as I did.
By the time we got returned to the apartment, Rick was already tossing his bowl into the sink for me to wash later.
“It’s on the stove,” he said simply, shrugging as he walked into our bedroom.
The door closed after him, like I wasn’t even invited to sleep in our bed.
I just gave a faint nod, pulling a yogurt from the back of our fridge and settling on the couch. When I heard the creak of Rick climbing into bed to read, I patted the couch cushion at my side and let Ralph curl up against my leg. When I was done with my strawberry yogurt, I let him have one little lick of the spoon and then set it down on the end table.
Quietly, I reached up and grabbed the blanket that my mother had knitted when I was child, pulling it down overtop Ralph and me.
“You coming to bed, Em?” Rick called from the bedroom, not bothering to step out to see what I was doing.
“When my show is done,” I replied, despite the fact that TV remained off, the living room quiet and still.
Rick just grunted in response, the light going out in the room. The living room was suddenly awash with the comfort of darkness broken only by the occasional headlight rolling down the narrow neighborhood street.
Resting one hand on Ralph’s soft head, I closed my eyes and tried to think of anything but Jaxon’s soft lips on my own, and what I could possibly do if I left Rick. My whole existence seemed tied to him, my whole self-worth. Without Rick, who was I at all?
I was over thirty now. What was I doing making such a big change?
It was strange, how the thought of leaving him seemed scary… but exciting. It was like the feeling of being seated on a rollercoaster as it begins to slowly creep up that very first, high hill and you know that you’re going to fall and your stomach is going to flip into your throat but you’re so excited you can’t close your eyes. You’re hundreds of feet above the ground and everyone is so tiny and little that they look like bugs crawling over the pavement.
My own fall was coming, and I was going to embrace it with open, wide arms.
Rick and I had been together for so long that I forgot who I was, what joy was, what passion felt like.
It was time to discover all of that again, and I had my stepbrother’s captivating kiss to thank.
Chapter 9
Jaxon
I woke even before the sun rose.
Stretching out my arms, I let my fingers run down the length of the silky, cool sheets until my fingers traipsed over my bare thighs. I always slept naked, I liked feeling the sheets wrap around my exposed body like a velvet cocoon. It was warm, all wrapped up between the sheets, and secure.
I definitely need a sense of security after the last two days.
Though the first night after I saw Emily for the first time in years had seemed endless, last night was worse by far. I’ve never had a night spent so restlessly to
ssing and turning.
I hate sleeping alone, but since I’d abandoned Cynthia after the game I’d had little choice but to retire alone. Her friends had glared at me while she cried into her palms, mascara streaking down her cheeks like rivers of ebony.
I’d felt bad for causing her pain, but it was a numb and muted guilt. I’d never proclaimed to be interested in her for any more than just a romp in my bed. I wasn’t sure why she’d suddenly though that we would ever be more. I didn’t feel capable of giving any one more than just the pleasure of intertwining our bodies over and under my sheets. I wasn’t interested in giving any more than that.
At least that’s what I told myself. Every time I was struck by Emily’s golden eyes, I questioned that resolve. It was like, for her, I would do anything, give anything, just to be with her. I groaned loudly, slapping my palms against my eyes and rubbing hard, like I could scrub away the images of Emily’s beautiful face from my brain.
When I finally tossed my hands back against the mattress, the sky was growing lighter and lighter as the sun crawled slowly upwards.
Golden rays spilled over the floor, trekking dutifully until the room was so full of light that my eyes ached like I was hungover.
The night had been an early one for me, I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol at all.
While the rest of the team celebrated and drank until their livers screamed and their heads would pound when they finally rolled out of bed at noon, I’d escaped to lay on my bed and stare blankly up at my ceiling.
I’d fought so hard for so many years to stay away from Emily and the emotions that she was able to drag from within me with just one sweet smile of her full, pink lips. But there she was, ready to hook her claws into me and drag me back down. And I was all too willing for that to happen. I was all too willing to let her do whatever she wanted with me.
I still couldn’t believe she’d kissed me.
Every time I closed my eyes I felt her mouth on mine. It was haunting. I could still even taste her.
Sighing and giving up on staying in bed any longer, I threw back the blanket of the large hotel bed and swung around so that my feet brushed over the floor. The carpet was cool from the chill seeping in the room through the cracked open window.
I loved this weather, when it just began to change to fall and the leaves just started their golden change.
One of my last pleasant memories of being in that house with Emily and her mother and my father was during this time of year. Emily and Dad had made his classic cider in the crockpot and the whole house smelled of apples and cinnamon. We sat on the porch and sipped the warm drink and watched the clouds gust hazily by overhead. I’d just found out about my acceptance onto the college football team.
Three months later and I’d been gone.
There’d been times, back then, when I was sure that I could make it work, when I was sure that I could just forget my feelings for Emily and live my life. But then I’d catch a glimpse of her leaving the bathroom, her hair tumbling down her glistening back and only a towel wrapped tight around her slender frame, and I was hooked again.
There’d been no escaping her in that house or in that city. Leaving was my only choice.
Blearily, I trudged into the small bathroom and splashed water on my face, staring at the bags under my eyes. Though I’d gone to bed early, I hadn’t fallen asleep until at least two AM, and I hadn’t stayed asleep for long.
Without any of my team being awake for the next few hours and with women off limits in part because of Cynthia’s ire and in part because I couldn’t imagine anyone woman at my side besides Emily, I wasn’t sure what I would do with my time. I was used to being able to occupy myself with booze or female attention, but now neither of those things sounded appetizing at all.
There wasn’t anything that sounded good except for seeing Emily.
Groaning in irritation, I rubbed my fingers tiredly over my temples, wishing for just a minute to be free of her.
Eventually, as I slid into a comfy pair of black basketball shorts that hung snugly around my hips, I decided the best option was to outrun her. I would go for a run around the city and hope that my burning lungs and stinging muscles after miles and miles of earth had pounded away beneath my sneakers would finally give me freedom.
Maybe I’d even be exhausted enough to finally get some decent sleep.
It was while I was digging through my suitcase for a cotton shirt that someone knocked on the door.
Curiously, I straightened and walked over, not even glancing out the peephole as I swung it open.
Instead of Lucas or Coach or even Cynthia, however, it was my stepsister who stood before me now.
I paused, startled by her presence. Every time I saw her, I was caught off guard. She had the natural ability to stun me by just standing perfectly still. It was infuriating and alluring all at the same time.
She was beautiful, as always, her wide hazel eyes round and hesitant. Her lips were pursed and her hands folded tight in front of her as she glanced behind my strong body at the empty room and then back to me.
She’d had as sleepless a night as I did, apparently, still dressed in the same clothes I’d seen her in last night with bags under her gorgeous eyes. Worriedly, I stepped aside and gestured her into the room.
“What’s up, Em?” I asked quietly finally returning to my senses with a shake of my head. My voice still weary and deep from lack of sleep, “What are you doing here so early?”
I remembered everything about Emily from when we were kids, especially that she hated getting up before nine in the morning. It was barely past seven now.
“We had plans, right?” she mumbled, her voice too high pitched and strange.
There was definitely something going on with her. What was it?
Did she come here to tell me that she hated me, that she regretted ever seeking me out?
“Well. Yes…” I began slowly, “I just assumed that you would call first.”
“Oh,” she murmured back, slowly sinking down onto the corner of my bed.
I lingered by the door, trying not to imagine her sprawled over sheets mussed from my tossing and turning last night. She sat stiff as a board, only her shoulders slouched slightly forward, like she was bearing some kind of weight atop her slender shoulders.
“Em…” I said softly, approaching her as cautiously as one would approach a lost kitten or dog that looked so skittish it might run away, “What’s going on? Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m leaving him,” she whispered, “Rick. I’m leaving him.”
“Wait, you’re still with that guy?” I responded in shock, trying to suppress laughter, “Rick Dwight? From high school?”
It was hard to imagine bubbly Emily still with the serious, dark eyed boy from high school who had followed her around like a child would their mother. He’d been so boring and forgettable that the yearbook club had even forgotten to include him on the senior page.
She just nodded, running a hand through her hair, “All I could think about last night was leaving him.”
Somehow I managed to stop my laughter, the gravity in her eyes reminding me to be kind. I’d never understand why that relationship had existed, but it wasn’t my place to question it.
“Why?” I asked quietly, the single word slipping from my lips before I could control it, “Why are you leaving him now?”
I had to know.
Was it because of me? Was it because of what I said? Was it because of our kiss?
Her eyes darted toward me then instantly away and suddenly I was an elated mix of guilty and pleased.
“He was never a good fit for you anyway.” I shrugged, glancing around the room for an empty chair. The only one was completely covered in my clothes.
After contemplating sitting on the floor, I decided that would be even stranger so I hesitantly sat on the other side of the bed with plenty of distance between us.
She whirled to face me quickly, leaning forward so that her han
ds pressed down on the mattress and gave it a soft squeak.
“Right?” she said, eyes so tortured I had to fight the urge to reach out and embrace her “He’s horrible. He’s boring and mean and he hates Ralph-”
“Ralph?”
“I don’t know why I’ve stayed with him so long. I guess it was just a comfort thing… I really don’t know. I feel like I don’t know anything. Mom hated him too. Why would I put myself through all of that?”
She rambled on in distress, switching conversations like one trains switching frenzied tracks until she barely made any sense at all.
“Emily,” I said once, in a quiet and firm voice though that did not dissuade her frantic babbling.
Frowning, I reached out and lightly took her arm in mine, tugging her to look at me.
She cut herself off, biting her lower lip, gazing at me as though I might have all the answers in the world.
Unfortunately for her, I don’t have any.
“Is this because of me?” I asked, desperately searching her eyes for the answer, “Did I mess everything up by saying what I did?”
I hated bringing up that painful conversation again, it was so embarrassing that it made me want to crawl in a hole and vanish.
“No,” she answered quietly, and I could see the sincerity in her eyes, “You didn’t, Jax. You showed me a hole in my life that I had been ignoring for years. I would’ve married that guy if you hadn’t shown me what real—”
She instantly cut herself off, a bright red blush flushing up across her cheeks like a scarlet wave. She sucked in a breath, shaking her head so vigorously that her long blond curls tumbled over her shoulders.
“You just showed me what I was missing.” She finally settled on saying while I looked on with a quirked eyebrow.
She avoided my eyes again, staring down at the hands clasped in her lap.
Slowly, I reached over and lay my palm over hers, giving her hands a gentle squeeze.
“I really am glad that you reached out to me, Em. That you wouldn’t take no for an answer. That stubbornness of yours is maddening and admirable all at one time.”
Stepbrother The Hard Trainer: A Stepbrother Romance Book Collection Page 18
