The Stone Brothers: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

  “Shut the hell up, Kyle, and mind your own fucking business,” I say, leaping off the couch to walk over to the windows so I can pretend to admire the view.

  “Kyle, don’t,” Ethan says.

  “What?” Kyle asks. “Someone has to pull his head out of his ass. She was there last night. That has to mean something.”

  I shake my head. “She wanted to be anywhere but there, I could see it in her eyes. She doesn’t want to see me. She hates me.”

  “Are you one-hundred-percent sure of that, brother?” Kyle asks, coming up beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “If there is even a small chance she wants to see you, don’t you think you need to explore that? You have to be the one, Chad. Contacting you these days is harder than putting a call through to the fucking president. There is no way for her to get to you. Will you be able to live with yourself if you don’t at least try? Because if you don’t, you’ll always be living under the shadow of what could have been.”

  I turn and stare at my drunk little brother who’s still in full doc mode. “You pick your specialty yet? Because with all that bullshit you just fed me, maybe it should be psychiatry.”

  Everyone laughs. Even me. Because it’s better than admitting everything he said is true. But the thought of contacting her scares the living shit out of me. Maybe it’s just better to dream about what could have been rather than to see what actually is.

  Chapter Four

  Mallory

  I’m finding it hard to concentrate on work today. And you can believe the twenty-one fourth graders in my classroom are taking advantage of that. They are particularly unruly today and I just don’t have the energy to deal with it. Sleep has not been my friend the past two nights. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. Every time I fall asleep, I dream of him. Every waking hour, I try to forget him.

  Melissa was right. The way he looked at me—it’s not the way you look at someone who you don’t want in your life. But then why has he never contacted me? Does he think I don’t want to see him? Maybe he’s right. Maybe I don’t. He hurt me in more ways than one and I’m not sure I could ever trust him not to do it again. He damaged me. Making friends after he left was not easy. I was afraid to let anyone get close. I didn’t want to risk it happening again. I was grateful for Julian, but then when he hurt me, I was left completely alone. Best-friendless. That is until Mel and I met in college.

  You forgave Julian, I tell myself. Was what Chad did to me any worse than what Julian did? Can I even blame Chad for what happened? After all, he was only seventeen when his life went into a tailspin. I often wonder what would have happened if it had been me and not him who was catapulted into sudden stardom. Should he be held responsible for how he behaved when his life was so out of control?

  Yes, he should. I mean, underneath it all, we’re still human. I just think the least he could have done was call me when Mom died. But by then, I’d told him I never wanted to hear from him again. I guess he took me at my word after I didn’t acknowledge his pathetic attempt to make excuses in the voicemail he left me.

  “Ms. Schaffer?”

  I look up to see that the dismissal bell is about to ring and Billy Green is trying to get my attention. “Yes, Billy?”

  “Uh, you haven’t given us our homework assignment yet and it’s almost three o’clock.”

  I glance around the classroom to see all of my students packing up for the day. This is unlike me. I’m organized. I plan everything out down to the minute. I usually write homework assignments on the board while the kids are at recess.

  “No homework tonight,” I announce to the cheers of my class. “But I still want each of you to read for thirty minutes.” They grumble about that, but I can tell they are still happy for the most part.

  “Are you okay, Ms. Schaffer?” Kim asks, swinging her lighter-than-usual backpack onto her shoulder.

  I nod in reassurance. “Yes, Kim. I ran into an old friend the other day and I guess I was just daydreaming or something.”

  “How old was she?” Kim asks.

  I laugh. “It was a he,” I say. “And he’s not old as in age; he’s an old friend meaning I used to know him when we were kids.”

  “But you don’t know him anymore?”

  “No. Not really,” I tell her.

  “But you dream about him?” she asks.

  All the time. “Daydream,” I say. “Daydreaming is kind of like thinking about something when you’re awake. And you think about it so hard, sometimes you forget where you are or what you are doing.”

  She nods in understanding. “Oh, I get it. Like Billy and Justin during math section.”

  I giggle. “Yeah, kind of like that. You’d better get going or you’ll miss the bus.”

  “Bye, Ms. Schaffer.”

  “Bye, Kim. See you tomorrow.”

  I spend the next hour going over tomorrow’s lesson plan. I’m not even sure what I taught today. I hope the kids actually got something out of whatever I said. My door swings open and Melissa walks through.

  “Are you about done? I’m ready to get to the gym,” she says.

  I put away my planner and gather my things. “Yes. The gym is exactly what I need today.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Kate, another teacher at our school, joined us at the gym and then we decided to go for dinner after, so the sun is setting by the time I get home. As I pull into the driveway, I wonder whose SUV is parked out in front of our house. Dad didn’t say anything about company. He never has company. I park in the garage and reach into the passenger seat to get my leftovers. I hope Dad hasn’t eaten dinner yet because the meal I ordered was amazing.

  Melissa keeps trying to talk me into moving to the city, but I can’t get myself to leave. At first, I stayed to save up money for my own place. But after that, as the time came closer for me to move, I couldn’t pull the trigger. My dad all but stopped living after my mom died seven years ago. He still works at the local hospital as an orthopedic surgeon, and that has become his life. Work and me. So I cook for him a few times a week. He cooks for me a few times a week. The rest of the time, I’m with my friends or we get take out. Every so often he’ll ask me about my savings and when I think I’ll have enough to move out. I always give him the same answer, ‘go big or go home—so I’m staying home until I can go big.’ He smiles every time I say it. He also offers me money to reach my goal. I never accept it and he never argues. We have a symbiotic relationship. Or an enabling one. I’m not sure which. He needs to get on with his life. I need to learn to live on my own. But what we have works for both of us.

  Before the garage door closes, I see a man leaning against the hood of the SUV, looking at his cell phone. It’s kind of creepy because it’s getting dark. I take out my phone and pull up the dial screen, ready to call 911 if I need to. I quietly step into the mudroom and put down my teacher bag.

  I hear my dad laughing in the kitchen and I breathe a sigh of relief. For two reasons. One: the man outside is probably not a serial killer; and two: my dad has company, which never happens.

  Then I hear the other voice and my heart flips over. Actually, my heart leaves my body, travels around the corner into the kitchen, does flips and then returns to me, although not in its proper place. It seems to be currently lodged somewhere in the vicinity of my throat.

  What the hell is Chad Stone doing here?

  I head toward the kitchen. Then I turn around and head toward the garage. Then I turn back around. I change my mind so many times, I make myself dizzy. Then I bump into the coat rack, dislodging my purse, sending it thumping onto the floor. Shit.

  “Mallory, is that you?” my dad asks.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I close my eyes and take a calming breath, trying to control the pace of my heartbeat which is pounding so hard I feel like I’m still on the treadmill at the gym. I hold my head high and walk around the corner.

  When I see Chad, smiling and sitting with my dad, two beers on the table in front of them as if they are ol
d friends themselves, it guts me. Here he is after nine years, back in my house, looking all gorgeous and not at all nervous. Looking like he didn’t rip out my heart when he left. Looking all regal like the rich bastard he’s become. Looking like he doesn’t even care about the shit he left in his wake to get there.

  “Uh, okay,” I say, looking at them. I don’t know what to do or what to say. Did he come here to see my dad? They got along back then, and his folks were good friends with mine. Maybe he’s just here to see him. Should I join them? Walk past them and go to my room? Turn back around and go to Mel’s? I bite my lip pondering my choices.

  Just then, my dad scoots his chair out, finishes his beer and puts the empty bottle in the trash. “I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do. I think I’ll turn in early.” He offers his hand to Chad. “Nice to see you again, son. Don’t be a stranger.”

  “I don’t plan to be, sir,” Chad says, shaking my dad’s hand.

  My dad walks out of the room with purpose, loudly climbing the stairs so there’s no mistaking where he’s going, and then he shuts his door heavy-handedly. I roll my eyes at his unnecessary performance.

  I realize I’m still standing in the doorway to the kitchen, not having moved since seeing Chad in my house. I search for something to say. But what do you say to the boy who left you high and dry when he went on to make millions on a TV show before getting fired for drugs and gambling and fighting, who then went on to make movies, hobnobbing with mega-stars who only need one name like Zac, Liam or Brad?

  He doesn’t seem to know what to say either. Maybe he’s nervous after all. He probably thinks I’m going to hit him or something. Maybe I should.

  I clear my throat. “Um, so the guy outside. He’s with you? Your driver?”

  He nods. “My bodyguard.”

  “You have a bodyguard?” I ask, reeling over the fact that my one-time friend is so uber-famous that there is a huge man perched against a big black SUV outside my house to protect him.

  He shrugs, seemingly embarrassed by my reaction. “Well, not all the time, but for premieres and stuff.”

  All of a sudden, I find myself becoming protective of my old friend. “Has someone threatened you? Do you have a stalker?”

  “No.” He huffs out a strained laugh. “Not this week anyway.”

  My heart sinks. He’s had stalkers? It must be awful not to be able to go where you want to go and do what you want to do because some wacko is out there.

  He nods to the chair my father vacated. “Are you just going to stand there all night, or do you want to sit?”

  “Uh . . . ” I look at the bag of leftovers I’m still holding. I walk to the fridge and deposit it inside, grabbing myself a beer before I shut it. I may need a bit of liquid courage to get through this conversation. I sit across from him. He reaches over to open my beer for me. Our hands touch. I try to ignore the shooting sensation that travels through me, piercing my heart. “Thanks,” I say, pulling my beer away from his hand. I motion to his drink. “I thought you didn’t drink. Weren’t you in rehab?”

  He laughs awkwardly. “Direct much?” he says.

  I take a drink of my beer. “I never censored myself with you when we were kids, why start now?”

  “I know. It was one of the things I loved about you. You always said it like it was. And, yes, I was in rehab. Not for alcohol though.”

  “Isn’t it all the same?” I ask. “Can’t you just replace one addiction with another?”

  “Yes, some people can become cross-addicted. I don’t seem to have a problem with alcohol. My issue was with cocaine. But it’s an unforgiving drug, so I don’t ever drink enough to lower my inhibitions and make bad decisions. I find that as long as I limit myself to just a drink or two, I’m good. I still like to have fun. Just not crazy doped-up fun.”

  “Oh.” I’d read countless articles about Chad’s partying early on. I’ve seen too many pictures of him and half-naked women looking gorked out. Eventually, I stopped looking. I stopped reading. I even tried to pretend I had stopped caring.

  He nods in the direction of the stairs. “So, you still live here with your dad?”

  I look around the kitchen that is the only one I’ve ever known. My parents bought this house when my mom was pregnant with me. “Yes. It’d be such a big place just for him, you know?”

  He looks down at the table, nodding reluctantly. “I’m really sorry about your mom. I should have called.”

  “You were a little busy back then,” I say, trying to keep bitterness from lacing my words.

  “That’s no excuse. I should have come back for her funeral. She was like a second mom to me. And you . . . ” Guilt washes over his finely-chiseled features as he traces a bead of condensation on his bottle. “I just should have done something. I was in a bad way back then. It’s no excuse, I know. But it’s all I have.”

  “It was a long time ago,” I say.

  “You were only seventeen. You needed your friends. I fucked up. Will you ever forgive me?”

  I study him for a minute. He wants my forgiveness? Is that why he’s here, to exonerate himself of guilt? But he looks sincere. Sad even, like he feels he lost a piece of himself when he cut off those he loved. Maybe Mel was right. Maybe he has changed. Still, if it’s my friendship he wants, it may be too little too late. “Why are you here, Chad? Uh, can I even call you that anymore?”

  “Yes, please call me Chad. Thad isn’t who I really am. Not anymore. My family calls me Chad; I want you to as well.”

  I think back to when he had just gotten discovered and his agent told him there was already an actor by the name of Chad Stoner, so he had to pick a new name because his was too similar. I was so excited that he chose Thad. The name that had so much meaning, but only to the two of us. It was a name that connected us in a way nobody else would ever understand. I somehow thought it would tie us together forever. Instead, it eventually ripped us apart, and now—well I’m glad he’s okay with me calling him Chad, because that other name is nothing more than a dirty word in my book.

  “I’m sure you know I saw you at the premiere the other night,” he says. He sighs deeply. “My life has been a little bit crazy lately, to say the least. What is happening now is ten times worse than when I was on Malibu. Sometimes it feels like my life is not my own anymore. And I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but when I saw you, it was like seeing a lifeline to normal again. There were hundreds of screaming fans on that sidewalk, and then there was you. And you were the only one who wasn’t trying to get close enough to get a piece of me. It was like a breath of fresh air in the chaos.”

  “I didn’t know it was you at the club. Well, not until I saw you,” I tell him. “My friend, Melissa, and I were on our way back from dinner when we stumbled upon the crowd. We hung around to see what all the fuss was about.”

  For a second, Chad’s face falls. He looks dejected. This gorgeous, mega-rich, up-and-coming superstar looks like a kid who just had his candy swiped from him. “You didn’t know I was going to be there?” he asks.

  I shake my head.

  “I guess that makes sense,” he says. “It looked like you were trying to get away.”

  I’m not sure what to say to that. Sorry, Chad, I don’t follow your career because I think you are a self-centered prick who drops friends at the first hint of something better? I take a sip of beer instead of speaking.

  “Your dad tells me you’re a teacher,” he says, filling the uncomfortable silence.

  “I am.”

  He stares at me with a smirk.

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, the irony is not lost on me.”

  Chad used to say he wanted to teach high school history. And I was the one who was going to be an actor. I starred in every middle and high school theater production. I even got Chad to audition for one of the particularly time-consuming plays so we would be able to spend more time together. The play that should have resulted in our first kiss. And our second and third. It ran three nights. Bu
t we never rehearsed the kiss, and we ended up chickening out, hugging each other instead. Our lips never even touched. Not then; not ever.

  “Why didn’t you pursue acting?” he asks. “You were so good at it.”

  “I did. But not everyone can walk into a shopping mall and get discovered,” I say.

  “Are you still interested? I could pull some strings if you want to try it out. I think you’d be amazing.”

  I vehemently shake my head. “Oh, no. I love my job. Plus, I wouldn’t want that career anymore, not after seeing what it did . . . uh . . .” I try to remove my very large foot from my very big mouth.

  He nods knowingly. “After seeing what it did to me.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful. I know you’ve worked hard to get where you are.”

  He takes the last sip of his beer and puts the empty bottle on the table between us before standing up. “Please thank your dad for the beer. It’s been great seeing you again.”

  And just like that, Chad Stone walks out of my life as quickly as he walked back into it.

  Chapter Five

  Chad

  Mallory stays seated at her kitchen table as I walk through the house and out the front door. She doesn’t need to show me the way. I practically lived here when I was younger. I guess there isn’t much else to say. She wasn’t at the premiere party because of me. She’s obviously still pissed at me. And she has every right to be.

  God, she’s beautiful. She was always pretty. But now, she’s fucking gorgeous. Those green eyes of hers are even darker than I remember, her fair skin even creamier. And Jesus, she’s a school teacher. Is there anything sexier than that? What the hell was I thinking not keeping in touch with her? That you didn’t want her to see what you’d become, you damn fool.