SAVIOR: A Stepbrother Romance

by Ora Wilde

  He didn’t leave me... when I found myself needing him so much.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  CONNER

  “Your fight’s two weeks away, Conner. Are you ready?”

  My stepmother was never an MMA fan. She didn’t know shit about the sport. But her question was sincere. It wasn’t meant as an empty query to jumpstart some small talk that would get me and my father talking over dinner at Mr. Chang’s Crab House that evening.

  A nice family dinner, that’s how she described it when she invited me to join them for the night. A nice family dinner in a nice restaurant. I guess any place away from their house, which has become a toxic environment because me and my father were forced to live there together, was a better alternative.

  “I guess,” I uttered softly as I continued to slice my porterhouse. Luckily, that damn restaurant offered steak. Seafood always made me itchy all over.

  Margaret, who was sitting beside me, gave me a smile. It’s been three weeks since that incident downtown, when Lucas and his thugs beat the hell out of me. He wanted me to leave her, but his action only made us closer.

  She still doesn’t know what he did. And I couldn’t tell her. It was my shit, my business, and I didn’t want to drag her into it. Besides, she was marrying him. She saw him as a good man, close to perfection, one hundred percent husband material. It would be devastating for her if she’d find out the lengths he’d go to just to keep her.

  So I kept quiet.

  I allowed her to love the man she thought she knew.

  And it hurt.

  But pain is part of my life.

  “How’s your ground game?” my father suddenly wanted to know. He didn’t even look at me, which was always the case with the few times we talked since I arrived at Susanville. “Any improvement?”

  “Coach Mikey brought in a jiu jitsu black belter,” I told him. “It’s too late to master the style, but I’m being reoriented with the basics.”

  “You think the basics would be enough to beat Jones?” His voice was as cold as the shrimp cocktail he ordered as as an appetizer.

  His question, though, was very much insulting.

  I clenched my hands into fists and raised them up for everyone to see.

  “These are more than enough to beat Jones,” I said while flashing the cockiest smile I could muster... concealing the slightest hint of anger his question caused.

  He was far from convinced, just as expected. Nothing seemed to please him, ever.

  “I’m not used to seeing you alone, Conner,” my stepmother chipped in.

  “What do you mean? I’m always alone,” I reminded her.

  “No. I mean the camera crew that keeps following you around. I don’t see them anywhere.”

  “Oh. They’ve packed up. Last night. They’re finished, I guess.”

  “That’s great! When do we get to watch the documentary?” she enthusiastically asked.

  I saw Margaret retreat to the farthest end of her seat. Talks about a show that painted her... us... as lovers made her very uncomfortable.

  “Tomorrow. The next day. Soon. I really have no idea,” I answered.

  “Well that’s something good to look forward to,” Sally enthusiastically responded. She’s so damn giddy happy all the time that it made me wonder if my old man has driven her crazy. That’s not so farfetched.

  It was the most peaceful dinner we’ve had for the past month and a half.

  As soon as the bill was settled, Margaret asked my father to take her car. She’d ride with me, she said.

  While I was driving on the way home, she asked something that made me realize why she wanted to be with me that evening.

  “Do you think a ring is a good idea?”

  Her question confused me. I didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “A ring. I want to buy Lucas a ring,” she clarified. “You know, a commemoration of our marriage.”

  “I don’t know,” I told her. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

  “Well, people who get married do place a ring around each other’s finger.”

  “Do you think he bought you a ring?”

  She was about to open her mouth to answer, but she stopped herself from doing so. A deep sense of sadness took over her. She looked away, outside the passenger’s window. For the next few minutes, she stared blankly at the sights blurred by our vehicle’s speed.

  I wanted to tell her that it shouldn’t be that way, that she could be treated better, that she could demand what she desired.

  That she deserved more.

  So much more than what he’s giving her.

  But I didn’t. I couldn’t. She loved him, and telling her how much of a jackass her man was, it would only make her feel miserable. I didn’t want that.

  Deep inside, I wanted to ask her for a chance... a chance for me to show her what she truly deserved. It didn’t matter if it would only be for a short time. It didn’t matter if I wouldn’t get a promise of her devotion in return. It didn’t matter if it would only hurt even more when everything was said and done.

  I just wanted her to know how special she truly was, and how she should really be treated.

  “So I should just forget about the ring?” she asked. She was still gazing outside the window.

  You should just forget about that motherfucker, I wanted to say.

  “Yeah,” I told her instead. “It’d be useless, don’t you think?”

  “Not really. It’s a symbol of my... commitment.” It may have just been my imagination, but I thought there was a bit of uncertainty in her tone.

  “Commitment is a tango,” I argued. “What good is it if you’re the only one who’s fully devoted to your relationship?”

  “He’s devoted too,” she responded rather emotionlessly. “He’s just not... expressive.”

  “And what good is love if it’s not expressed?”

  She turned to look at me. Her eyes, beady and beautiful, penetrated my soul. She was conflicted. She wanted to hear more... she wanted to know my views on love... she wanted to compare my thoughts with what Mr. Blondie was showing her... she wanted me to share more... even if my words would cause her pain.

  I didn’t want her hurt.

  I parked my SUV on the side of the road. I tilted my body to look at her.

  “Let me show you,” I whispered.

  She gulped.

  “S-Show me what?” she asked.

  “How you should be loved.”

  Her heart was racing. I could literally hear it beating.

  “Just one day,” I started to plead. “One day, it’s all I need.”

  “Need for what?”

  “To give you everything that you deserve.”

  Words were flowing from my mouth, words which I have always thought of in the six weeks I have spent in Susanville, words which I have tried to keep to myself to respect her heart.

  But the fight was near. My training was almost over. Our time together was coming to an end.

  Desperation. Desire. The fear of despair. They were compelling forces that proved enough to shatter my resolve to keep my feelings to myself.

  “Just one day,” I continued to beg. “Let me have that one single day, and if you will still choose him, I promise to leave you in peace.”

  She bowed her head. Her fingers started to fidget. Her breathing became quicker.

  “Please, Margaret... one day... that’s all I need...”

  She lifted her head and her eyes met mine. The sadness on her face was still there. But behind her sorrow lied a sentiment that was somewhere between helplessness and hope... a call for enlightenment... a cry for help...

  And her answer...

  Her answer made me happy and afraid at the same time.

  “Okay,” she said.

  And then she smiled.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  MEG

  It started like any ordinary workday.

  I got up around six, prepared the clothes I planned to wear,
took a shower, brushed my teeth, dried myself up, and went out of the bathroom to go back to my room.

  That was when I discovered the first surprise he prepared.

  A bouquet of white tulips, on my bed, filling up my chamber with the sweetest scent I have ever smelled in a long, long time.

  It was a calculated move. He waited for me to begin my routine. Then he snuck in my room to lay down the flowers over my sheets. It required some careful planning, and I was overwhelmed by the effort he exerted. I smiled as I picked up the tulips and cradled the bouquet in my arms, savoring the fragrance and what the blooms represented... a fulfillment of his promise... to make me feel special... to show me what he believed I really deserved.

  I thought that was that. Little did I know at that moment that it was just the beginning of a day of marvelous surprises.

  I drove to work, punched in my time card and proceeded to my classroom. The kids were running around and screaming, just as I expected. I greeted them with a good morning and instructed them to calm down. They did. They sat on the floor, forming a half-circle around me, ready and eager to begin our class.

  “What are we going to do today?” I asked them gleefully.

  “Read a poem!” they answered in unison and with shared enthusiasm.

  Yesterday, I asked them to get copies of poems they wanted to read in class. Their moms and dads could help them, I suggested. It was a great way to foster parent-child relationships.

  “So, who’s first?” I wanted to know.

  A cute little boy named Brix raised his hand zealously. “Me, me, me,” he repeatedly said.

  I allowed him to stand in front of the class to deliver his prepared poem... Ernest Thayer’s Casey at the Bat. He was reading from a piece of paper, mispronouncing some words, his pace slowing down and quickening at inappropriate times. But he recited it with so much emotion completely unexpected from his age, and the other kids were so engrossed. Brix had them begging to know what would happen next... would Casey strike out or would he hit a home run?

  “That was excellent, Brix!” I praised him after he finished his piece to a resounding applause from his classmates. “Now, who’s next?”

  Zoe stood up, jumped up and down while her hands reached for the ceiling.

  “Okay, Zoe... now stop that. You might get hurt,” I told her.

  “Oh, I’m not standing up for me,” she said with her usual singsong voice.

  “You’re not? Then why are you raising your hands?”

  “I’m... vo-lan-ter-ring for someone...” she answered, struggling to speak a word I felt she didn’t even understand.

  “Volunteering for someone? Who?”

  “Him!” she replied, pointing at the door.

  I turned to look... and I saw who him was...

  His long hair was neatly snapped back and held behind his head with a nicely knotted ponytail. His beard, which was always ruggedly unkempt, looked like it was combed to appear clean and well groomed. He was wearing a long-sleeved dress shirt, black and silky, the sleeves of which were elegantly folded up to his elbows. He had glasses, which I found uncanny because I never knew he had problems with his eyesight... but still, they made him look cool and smart and dapper.

  He was so handsome... even more attractive than how I knew him to be.

  And he had a nervous smile on his face which I actually found cute.

  But what was he doing there? He shouldn’t be there. He couldn’t. He hated kids.

  I wanted to ask him. But before I could do so, the kids started clapping excitedly for our visitor. He forced himself to smile at them, then walked to the center of the circle. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket and unfolded it. He cleared his throat and started to read.

  It was a poem.

  His delivery was rough. His voice was breaking with discomfiture. He kept looking out the door, wary that someone else would see him in that position. Yet he read. Nothing was going to stop him.

  “Remember when we first met, me and you?

  It was when I just entered town from Route 22

  I thought you were a junkie who was escaping the cops

  With the way you stepped on the gas from your stop

  And guess what? You scratched my car and I sent it to the shop.”

  That actually made me chuckle. It was so banal, so poorly written, so hilariously declaimed. And he most probably forgot that he was reciting his ‘poem’ in front of very young children. But he continued...

  “But there was something about that day

  That desperately made me want to stay

  Your eyes, maybe, and the many joys they shared

  Or your warm and delicate smile that nurtured and dared

  Or everything about you that are simply beyond compare.”

  My laughter ceased, replaced by a girlish giggle that I tried so hard to repress. And he continued...

  “And here I stand before you...”

  He looked at me as he scrunched up the piece of paper he was reading from and put it in his pocket. He memorized his poem...

  “A man, distraught and despairing and yours, for you to see...”

  He took a step closer. I bowed my head. I didn’t know what to say... what to do... how to feel.

  “A man who, for the rest of his life, will rue...”

  Another step. He was just a two feet away from me.

  “A man who, for a single day would like to ask... will you marry me?”

  What?!

  I raised my head and looked at him. He had a weird smile on his face... one of yearning and joy and guilt and shame.

  Then, he knelt before me as his hand reached for something in his front pocket. He had a hard time retrieving it, muttering curses before remembering where he was at that time.

  And finally he found it. He extended his hand and showed it to me.

  A ring.

  An actual ring.

  Its band wasn’t made of gold or silver or platinum. It wasn’t studded with diamonds. It didn’t even have a centerpiece.

  It was just a simple ring, made of a malleable substance that I couldn’t identify, meticulously twisted to form a presentable pattern that was enough to catch attention but would fall short of impressing anyone.

  “I did that!” Zoe screamed in delight while waving his hands in the air, giving me a glimpse of his wrist wrapped in colorful rubber bands.

  Rubber band... that was what the ring was made of.

  Conner was still there, kneeling, presenting the elastic ring... a make-do representation of his devotion... a devotion that he wanted to share for the most fleeting of moments...

  He was smiling, but there was worry in his beam. He was nervous. It was the first time I ever saw him nervous.

  And he was waiting for an answer.

  The kids started to jump up and down and yell...

  “Marry him, teach!”

  “I love weddings!”

  “Say yes, teacher!”

  And a question from someone I didn’t immediately recognize given how jolted I was with the events that unfolded...

  “Will you have babies soon?”

  I went down on my knees to meet him. I held his hand and closed his fingers to cover the ring he was offering.

  “Don’t you think it’s a little too early for that, Mr. McXavier?” I asked him.

  The anxiety disappeared from his smile.

  “Well, you’re right, Ms. Wilson,” he said. “It’s too early. We have the entire day ahead of us.”

  And we did.

  A day that I will forever cherish and remember.

  He waited for me to finish my classes. He just loitered in the area outside the gate, unflinching under the morning sun, until I was done with work.

  As soon as I exited the school’s premises, he approached me and held my hand.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Oh no... I hope it’s not another proposal,” I muttered fretfully... a manufactured kind of apprehension for t
he truth was something far more pleasant and thrilling.

  He just flashed that handsome, tender smile once more.

  He led me to his car, opening the passenger’s door and assisting me as I went in. It was a chivalrous gesture, something I thought wasn’t in him.