Hooked: A Stepbrother Romance

by Iris Parker

  Hooked

  by Iris Parker

  Copyright 2015 Iris Parker

  All rights reserved

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  author.iris.parker@gmail.com

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  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, dialogue, and events in this book are entirely from the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Nothing should be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  The cover art for this book makes use of licensed stock photography. All photography is for illustrative purposes only. All persons depicted are models. Neither the models nor the photographer have endorsed this work.

  My shoe slammed into the puddle, grimy water spraying from the force of my footfall. I didn’t really need to worry about getting wet, having long since passed the point where it mattered. The cool rain blanketed my body, an early morning reprieve from the unseasonable heat that was sure to follow.

  I listened to the rhythmic sloshing of my soles hitting the pavement, aching limbs finally beginning to loosen up as I ran down the wet street. From my muscles to my mind, every part of me was tense.

  Sleepless nights were always a bitch. Today would be yet another day fueled exclusively by coffee and hope. Adam always supplied me with both, a hot mug and a warm smile. I wished I knew how he did it, how he stayed so serene even as our world was falling apart.

  Well, my world. He still had his family, a wife and children who would love him no matter what happened this week.

  I guess that was his secret, then.

  Love.

  How obnoxiously cliché.

  I took a deep breath and ducked into a side street, yet another detour that would add time to my run. As tired as I was, I wanted to be exhausted. To be numb, past the point of caring, past the point of thinking any more about things outside my control.

  By the time I made it to a row of run-down apartment complexes, the wind had picked up and was driving directly into my face. Half blind, I listened to the roar of thunder just overhead.

  Like everything else in my life for the past several months, the weather was worse than I’d expected it to be. Back in the fall, rumors about our funding being cut had hit us like a ton of bricks. I’d never been particularly naive, but I had never dreamed the city would be so callous about shutting us down. Every single day, I saw the people we helped. The poverty, the struggling families, the street refugees who wanted nothing to do with drugs or gangs and had only one place to go.

  Had only one place to go—past tense, thanks to the petty bureaucrats who’d decided to pay for another round of corporate tax cuts by slashing our budget. We’d fought tooth and nail, but after months of lobbying, begging, and praying, we’d only succeeded in turning the center into a pathetic charity case. Adam and I were faced with the worst possible outcome. We couldn’t even afford the rent anymore, and the only thing left was to begin emptying the building. Between moving all the heavy equipment to a storage locker and figuring out what to do with decades of old records, the job was as physically tiring as it was emotionally exhausting.

  Suddenly feeling the chill in my very bones, I picked up the pace. The rec center was the last place I wanted to be right now, but at least it was warm and dry. I took a shortcut through a nearby alley, and soon the old building loomed in front of me.

  I shivered.

  Of course, I’d find some other place to work. A new town, a new group of disadvantaged youths to try helping. No matter where I went, I’d find people who needed me. It’s not like hurt and need were rare commodities; they were all over.

  But knowing I’d be needed elsewhere didn’t help me feel better about the fact I had to abandon people who needed me here.

  In the last few hundred feet, the rain picked up yet again, drenching me to the bone. I bolted across the parking lot, past Adam’s car and through the metal detector mounted by the front door of the center. My clothes were painted to my skin, a soggy mess, as I walked down the main hall.

  My running shoes squelched with every step on the tile floor, the wet sound a stark contrast to the silence all around me. I’d been here early more than once, but today, there was absolutely nothing going on. No squabbles, no brawls, no fights. No laughing, no gossip, no music. There wasn’t a single sound, just old plaster walls slowly crumbling.

  We were already done here, really. Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

  Adam was already in his office, his door open. As I passed, he gestured at me to come inside, but all I could muster was a quick hello. I didn’t want to be rude, but we both needed some time alone. With a wave back in his direction, I continued down the hall.

  A large ping-pong table was folded up and propped against the wall, with a few boxes of tattered Marvel comics to the side. Further down the hall, our old donated PCs were sitting on the floor, wrapped in dirty grey cords. In a haphazard pile lay a dozen badminton rackets, full of holes, and the set of worn-down team vests I’d managed to find sponsors for years ago had been unceremoniously dumped into an old paper bag.

  I took a deep breath and sighed. Everything had to go, and my heart was probably going to go along with it.

  I pushed the heavy swinging doors to the nondescript room we’d been using as a gym, cursing maintenance one last time for never fixing them. We’d almost lost more than our share of sullen, shy teens who had been determined to take a stuck door as an omen that they shouldn’t be here.

  It was a freaking curse to a sports coordinator, I swear. I had enough problems without imagined Signs from Above, like the way my girls revolted at the mere suggestion of actually doing some kind of sport at the sports center. My lip twitched in a small smile as I remembered our last softball game.

  We’d lost, of course. It hadn’t even been a contest. It was so ridiculous I’d laughed my way through the following weekend, telling my friends the details over a couple of beers at our favorite nightclub.

  We had done so badly that it wasn’t even frustrating, it was downright funny. From the moment a stray ball had hit Shauna in the face, the whole thing had been a comedy of errors. Her replacement, Jessa, simply could not be pried away from flirting with the visiting teams’ center field. Meanwhile, Domenica had played the entire game with her earbuds in, blasting Nicki Minaj while the umpire yelled at her for dancing on the field.

  Shameless, completely shameless. But at least they’d been out on the field, and not in the street. With one more push, the door finally gave and I walked into the gym, my eyes slowly adjusting to the shadowy space in front of me. Immediately, I caught sight of a weird shape in the corner. At first, I couldn’t quite make it out. Boxes? Piles of packing tape? I walked closer, and my nose told me what it was before my eyes could. It was a smell I hadn’t experienced in years.

  Oh boy. Brand new sports equipment.

  Lots of it.

  A small, sarcastic laugh escaped my lips before I could stop myself. What I wouldn’t have given for this stuff last year, or even last month. Or just, you know, any time except for the week we were emptying the building so we could close. Was this some kind of sick joke? Who could’ve possibly thought it was a good idea to do this now?

  There was a ton of equipment, all wrapped in thick plastic. The cost of everything probably could’ve kept us open for at least another year. I stood motionless, waiting for someone to come out, to point at me and laugh with a mocking ha-ha. We’d struggled to make do for years, and now this happens?

  I ran back to the door, yanking it op
en with all my might and bolting to Adam’s office. He was exactly where I’d left him, sitting behind his office desk, ensconced in a grey hoodie. Three cups of steaming hot coffee were spread out in front of him; he knew me well.

  “What the hell, Adam?”

  He clasped his hands together and smiled gently, motioning for me to sit down.

  “Hello to you, too, sweetie,” he said with a light voice.

  “Please, just cut to the chase. What is going on here?”

  “It’s a long story,” he said, the serious tone in his voice piquing my interest even more. Something was definitely up. Behind the dark circles of his eyes, there was a glimmer of light that I hadn’t seen since last October.

  I sat in the chair, nodding silently. Whatever this was, it was obviously big. Had we landed a corporate sponsorship after all? I didn’t relish the idea of shilling out sugary energy drinks of dubious neon colors, but if it would keep this place open….

  “I tried to call you last night, but your phone was off and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you such big news over voicemail,” he began as I picked up my drink with trembling hands. “Someone read your interview on Mountain News Daily. He wants to make a donation that’ll keep us afloat.”

  Blood rushed to my head, and the pounding in my heart threatened to overcome me. A last-minute donation! I jumped to my feet, coffee sloshing out the sides of my cup as I hastily put it down. Adam opened his arms, his smile a mile wide, and I ran around the desk into his embrace.

  “How much is it?” I asked.

  “More than we ever imagined we’d get, Em. Enough that, if we wanted to, we could still move out on Friday—but only to go to a better building.”

  Pulling away from the hug, I looked him in the eye. “That’s crazy,” I said. Getting this place had been a miracle in itself, its cheap rent making up for the somewhat run-down facilities.

  “Not that we should waste it on something like that,” Adam continued. “But we could. That’s how much he’s giving us. There’s just one condition.”

  I nodded without hesitation, brushing his words away with a swipe of my hand. Of course I’d accept whatever condition was needed. It was the least we could do.

  “We’re going to enroll two teams in summer sport leagues, boys and girls. Our new benefactor will coach one team himself, and you’ll be in charge of the other. Training starts tomorrow at ten, West Field.”

  “You accepted, right?” I said with a smile. I’d been bracing myself for some unpleasant task, but teaching sports was my forte. I loved the summer leagues, and doing it for money wasn’t far from my definition of heaven. I probably looked deranged, grinning from ear to ear, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Of course I accepted! Hell, I’d have taken the deal even if he’d demanded I give him daily foot rubs. Not even kidding.”

  I barked out a sudden, loud laugh as I pictured Adam, a man with both the build and disposition of Santa Claus, happily married for over twenty years, giving out foot rubs to strange men for money. It was a funny image, but of course, he was right. For that much money, I would’ve done the same thing.

  “So it’s just one guy giving us all this? What’s his motivation?”

  Adam shrugged. “Helping the poor? Feeling better about himself? Trying to popularize rugby in the States? Who knows? The guy’s decent, though. Easy to talk to. He’ll fit right in.”

  “Popularizing what?”

  My arms fell to my sides like lead as Adam’s words washed over me, a knot building in the pit of my stomach. Of course I’d misheard. I had to have misheard.

  “Rugby. You know. Like football, if football was a blood sport.”

  “Rugby?” I echoed. The joyous heartbeat in my chest had crept upwards, into my ears, strumming an ominous beat of anguish. I recognized the feeling. Anger, fierce and irrational. Suddenly, I was possessed by the urge to flip over Adam’s desk and scream.

  “Oh, I was just kidding. It’s no worse than any other team sport, really. In fact, after speaking to our benefactor, I think it'll be quite good for everyone…”

  I just stared blankly at Adam, a twinge of pain stabbing at my belly as he listed all the wonderful advantages of joining the team. Rugby. The mere word made my skin crawl, an old wound resurfacing in the part of my soul I’d buried years ago.

  Adam’s lips kept moving, but I was no longer listening. I grunted, backing out of his office and heading back to the gym.

  Rugby. No way was I going to teach fucking rugby.

  No way.

  I directed some of my rage at the swinging doors, ramming into them with my body and slamming them wide open.

  No way.

  I closed my eyes, trembling in silent fury for a moment as hundreds of questions echoed in my head.

  Was I really going to spit in the face of all this money, offered to us when we so desperately needed it? It was either this, or allow the center to close. How could I explain to everyone that I’d had a chance to save their safe-place and refused? And why? Because I still hadn’t gotten over hurt feelings from when I was their age?

  I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, leaving wet footprints as I squished my way back to the far corner of the gym. A shiver ran down my damp skin as I looked over the rugby equipment, knowing now what hid beneath the plastic wrap.

  Tackle bags. Shields. Protective gear. Speed ladders. I’d seen all of it before, complete with sneers and taunts. I was almost dangerously underweight back then, terrified of getting too heavy to stay on the track team. Meanwhile, he was tall, athletic, and gorgeous. His exotic accent and future-sports-star body had made him wildly popular, and I was an easy target. He’d hated me at first sight.

  I kicked the bundled up gear with all my strength, the muffled thud giving me a thrill of pleasure. I wanted more, fighting an urge to take my revenge by abusing a pile of defenseless equipment. I knew it wouldn’t actually make me feel better, any more than my assault on the door had, and I stepped back with a sigh of defeat.

  I hated rugby as much as I’d hated him. The way he’d managed to convince the school football team to try rugby over the summer. The fact that he would always come back from games with scraped knees and black eyes. The ugly, grass-stained jersey shirts and ridiculous striped socks littering our clothesline. His cocky smile and the piercing blueness of his stare. How he always made me feel like I was made of glass whenever he looked at me, and worst of all, the perpetual sneer on his face any time I came into the room.

  I’d hated all of it, and then I’d managed to put it all behind me when I finally left for college. Now, because some eccentric rich guy wanted to feel good about himself, it was all back in my life.

  I sat on the foam-and-leather tackle tube, pinching my nose and rubbing my eyes with my thumb and index finger. Taking a large breath, I ran my hand along my forehead, up to the top of my skull, and tried to relax.

  I could deal with this. I could. I couldn’t give up. The stakes were too high. Besides, it was only rugby that was back in my life. Not the asshole who’d ruined it for me, just the game itself. Hell, maybe I could even learn to like it, replacing bad memories with good ones.

  I leaned back, resting on the sharp curve of the tackle tube. I could handle all of this, I knew. My eyes closed and I imagined the center’s regulars doing rugby. Passing the ball sideways like freaking crabs, kicking goals, tackling each other, hating every minute of it…. Yeah, I could do this. It was, after all, a small price to pay for keeping the center open.

  “Emilia?” a familiar voice resonated in the empty gym, bringing a smile to my face. It was eight o’clock, and he was here like clockwork.

  “Good morning, Theo,” I said warmly. “Front door not locked?”

  “It was, but…you know.”

  Of course I knew.

  Theo was smiling, his warm and sweet expression so endearing that I sprang straight to my feet and adjusted the hem of my damp shorts. Time to act like the professional everyone expected.

&nb
sp; “Want to give me a hand?” I asked. Theo was our youngest, but there was hardly anyone else here who was as reliable as him. He was a rock.

  A rock who had the annoying habit of picking our lock to get in a few minutes earlier, but still a rock.

  Theo’s face lit up even more as he nodded with excitement; he loved helping.

  “Please go see Adam, and ask him to call everyone. Let them know there’s been a change in plans. They need to wear their sports shoes today. Emphasis on need to.”

  As soon as I finished speaking, Theo turned around and ran out of the gym.

  I followed him as far as the corridor, eyeing the cardboard boxes littering the hallway. Suddenly, they didn’t look heartbreaking anymore. We’d get our old PCs back up and running, or at least as running as the ancient copies of Windows XP could handle. We’d restring the badminton rackets one more time, and we’d be back in business.

  Such as it was.

  I rummaged through the smallest box, pulling out a paper bag filled with old, washed-out red and blue vests emblazoned with the same garish yellow ad on the backs.

  Johnnie’s

  Homemade food at Johnnie’s diner open 24/7.

  Of course, everyone had balked at having to wear them. Johnnie’s was popular with seniors, who took advantage of the 5 a.m. breakfast specials and thus drained the place of all its coolness with anyone under 60, let alone under 20.

  Still, Johnnie himself was a good guy, all 400 pounds of him. He always supported the center whenever he could. I still remembered when he’d given us the vests, a cigarette between his lips, fighting off a coughing fit while declaring we did good work by keeping “the young’uns” off the street and out of trouble.

  Five years later, the vests smelled a little rotten and had clearly seen better days, but they did the job. With a bit of luck, I could find two sets that had faded into roughly the same colors. I pulled the most heavily worn out first, separating the pinks from the reds and the baby blues from the navy.