Stepbrother Bestie (A Stepbrother Romance Novel) Page 20

  For instance, right before he said something he felt might be confrontational, he always made strange noises, along with the patterns of his breath. It was hardly noticeable, except to people who were comfortable being close to him, for he hovered right on top of them, even if the confrontational situation he was about to embark on had to do with that person.

  I didn’t think that he even knew that he was doing it, despite the fact that I had made it a point to remind him about personal space, another annoying and convenient oversight that he had habitually acquired after my mother’s death.

  Still, since I didn’t want to have any trouble with him, I didn’t want to start badgering him about things that his wife probably said to him all the time. I needed to be in his presence, at least for an hour, before I did anything that was considered nagging.

  My father walked with me into my room and when we were alone, he closed the door. He carefully set my suitcase down next to him and looked at me with wide, serious eyes. “Ashley, are you alright?” he asked with a grim demeanor.

  I sighed and shook off the feeling that this was going to turn into an argument. I knew that look and while it was meant to be concerned, it came off to me as aggravated.

  Great, I’ve only been here five minutes and I’ve already upset him…I thought, trying to steer clear of growing angry.

  “What do you mean? It’s summer after a great year at my dream college. Of course I’m all right.”

  “You don’t seem all right,” he answered, almost as if that was a trigger reaction that he would have said regardless of what I had preceded it with.

  “What makes you say that?” I asked, now feeling a rise of heat in my chest as I wondered if he was really trying to pick a fight with me.

  “You don’t seem yourself.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What is it? Are you overwhelmed?”

  No, I’m angry that you dragged me out here, where there are so many memories with people that are no longer around, just so that you can show off to your new wife and her stupid son. I felt my brow wrinkle, but what I said was, “Sure…A little. I mean, I am just meeting them.”

  “You met them at the wedding,” he answered, once again as though he was expecting me to say that.

  It caused me to wonder if he had planned out the entire conversation, inevitably ending in disaster from the start. I hadn’t thought about this annoying, yet once again fairly new, knee-jerk reaction to any type of perceived confrontation. Normally when he spoke to me, he was too thrilled to be hearing from me to pull any of this, post-death guilt on me. It might not have been my fault that my mother died, but sometimes, with the way that he acted, it was almost as though he blamed me for it; or for living when she was no longer around to take care of me. How cynical I was depended entirely on how I thought. Today, I just wasn’t sure.

  I felt my breath speed up, as I tried to calm the adrenaline that pumped through my head, flooding my brain with quick, sarcastic replies and hurtful comebacks that would just make him go away. However, before I said anything, I took a deep breath, held it and let it go. “Yes, Dad. I did meet them at the wedding, but that was a fairly hectic day.”

  “It was a wonderful day!” he exclaimed, as though accusing me of thinking anything less.

  Not for me it wasn’t. I thought, trying to hide the contempt that was steadily growing inside of me. Why is he doing this to me? I just got here! Yet, once again, I calmly replied, “I am very happy for you, Dad. This is going to be a fun summer. I meant what I said, I am looking forward to getting to know the new members of our family.” I smiled and tried not to roll my eyes as I sat down on my bed, trying to ground myself for whatever was going to spew out of his mouth next.

  “It will be,” he smiled brightly, but then his lips moved back into a slight scowl as he added, “But I wish you would tell me what is bothering you. You don’t act like this when you are overwhelmed, you act like this when you are angry.”

  “I’m not angry,” I answered, almost too quickly. Although my father might have his faults, he had always known me very well and now, I was sure that he had picked up on the fact that I was trying to hide my true feelings.

  He sighed and sat down next to me. Now, having realized what was actually going on, his nervousness had dissipated and he was able to come to terms with the way I was acting, and that caused him to be a little more rational. “Why?” he asked, as his eyes bore into me.

  Remembering this look from childhood, one of the few that remained from when we were really a family, I wanted to cry and embrace him, happy for the small memory and hope that the father I was once so close to was still there, somewhere. This look was not an angry one. It was a kind and gentle gaze, which accompanied a question about what was going on. He simply wanted a reason for whatever it was that was bothering me. This look told me that he was willing to help, instead of just focusing on the negative aspects and demons that I was sure still surrounded him on a daily basis.

  Just because he claimed to have a good life with his wife and stepson, while his daughter lived out her dream, far enough away from home as to not mess anything up for him, did not mean he didn’t think about what happened and what he could have done differently. It didn’t mean that he didn’t wonder why there was so much going on inside of his head, or didn’t try to decipher the craziness that was all a part of his mind since the moment my mother took her last breath.

  However, when I thought about this, instead of answering his question, he stood up and demanded, “Why are you angry?”

  Now the look was gone and I was rocketed back into the reality of having the volatile, crazy father whom I knew well, but could rarely handle. This change in him only made me feel angrier, which caused me to stand and glower at him. I didn’t mean to be callous with my words, but I had already endured too much aggravation to feel any pity or remorse concerning what I was about to say. “Why did you have to bring them here?”

  My father stopped and stared at me as honest confusion glossed over his eyes. “What?”

  I sighed, realizing that I might as well jump into the argument that he seemed to want so badly, instead of trying to fight against the current, which I knew from experience would simply swallow me whole. So I demanded, matching his original volume and tone. “Tell me why you had to bring them here, of all places! This was our special place. We could have gone anywhere, literally, anywhere in the world, but we didn’t. We came here. Why?”

  At first, I was afraid that he was going to scream at me. After all, he was teetering on the brink of going absolutely insane; but instead, he bounced back and tried to actually answer my question, instead of attacking me.

  He sighed and tried to explain. “Well, we always had good memories here, right?”

  He left room for me to comment, but I felt that would only make me feel worse, so I just widened my eyes, as though expecting more before I would give him any kind of feedback.

  He shrugged. “I just…I really thought it would be a nice place to bond…”

  “But I don’t want to bond here,” I exclaimed, far louder than I had intended. However, before giving my father a chance to retort my claim, I felt myself breaking down. I didn’t want to cry now though, so I fought it. Instead, I just plead my case with him and explained, in an irritated tone, “This was the place that mom loved most!” I tried to make him see, but as the thought struck me, even harder once I had said it out loud, I was overcome with emotion. “I know that she would have rather seen you sell it and use the money to buy your own new family getaway then to share it with these strangers!”

  At this, my father reared back. But instead of coming back at me with fury, he seemed wounded as he plead, “They aren’t strangers. They are our family. I know you think that I took this decision lightly…either marrying Theresa, or coming out here for the summer, but I didn’t. I thought about both for a really long time…and you were even okay with it, or at least I thought you were.”

  When he paused, I cross
ed my arms and answered with the most honest, while still trying not to be hurtful response I could muster. “Well, Dad, I thought I was okay with it too. I thought that everything would be fine, but I can’t help how I feel.”

  My father returned his argument a little more indignantly. “I’m sorry, Ashley, but that just isn’t my fault. I asked your opinion and I thought you gave it to me…”

  “So, what? Now my opinion doesn’t matter?” I spat, knowing that I shouldn’t be so petty, especially with my father, who was slightly unstable in times like this, but I just couldn’t let the moment pass without saying anything.

  “It isn’t that your opinion doesn’t count. Stop being so difficult. It’s just that…” he stopped then and breathed out, as his eyes furrowed, before he answered, “It’s just that now it is too late. I married her six months ago and we are sitting in the beach house, during summer vacation now, so even if I wanted to correct what you think are mistakes, I couldn’t do it anyway. Maybe next time, you’ll tell me the truth.”

  I turned my head, ready to retort, but looked at the stormy darkness welling within the pools of his eyes. I figured that now would probably be best not to respond with anything.

  So I just stared at him, until the cloudiness in his eyes began to pass and he continued the conversation with me. “Look…” he hissed, “maybe this isn’t your ideal vacation, but it means a lot to me, so could you please try to give your new stepmother and stepbrother a chance?”

  My head made some motion that might have resembled a nod, but otherwise I didn’t answer him. I was too depressed to answer him and too hurt to continue to lie. I just stared back at him, waiting for my father to either say something that I had to respond to, or leave.

  Eventually my father chose to leave and when he did so, I flung myself back on the bed and finally allowed myself to cry. I quickly grasped the pillow, which made my emotions grow even fiercer, since it still smelt the way everything used to smell, before my life was turned upside down. I was completely devastated. I had countless fights with my father before. That wasn’t really the issue. The point was that I was so aggravated by his need to turn everything around, so that nothing was ever his fault that I felt like disappearing into the bed, never to be seen again, just so I never had to be made to feel like this.

  I should have kept my anger in check… I thought; you know there is no talking to him when he is like this!

  Still, I knew that no matter what had happened, or how I had reacted, eventually, he would have pushed one too many buttons and the result would have been the same.

  I should have never come here, I finally decided as I realized there was nothing he could have done over the phone that would have made me feel as badly as I did right now, with absolutely no way to escape.

  If I was still at school, all I would have to do is hang up the phone and get on with my real life. But now, for the rest of my summer, this is my life…and I am surer than ever that I am going to hate it.

  Chapter 4

  Tyler

  I thought that this was going to be easy. I told myself that over and over again, with a cocky smile adorning my ever-so charming and talented lips as I made my way up to Ashley’s room that night.

  I had heard she had an argument with her father, which was proven to be correct by the fact that she had refused to come down for dinner, or anything else.

  Barely seeming to notice, her father and my mother had stared adoringly into one another’s eyes and ate their dinner as if we were all one big happy family. If I was a caring person, it might have bothered me, but I understood and accepted wholeheartedly that the relationship Ashley had with her father was really none of my business. All I really cared about was getting into those delightfully tight pants of hers. Personal matters didn’t really concern me.

  When I approached the door, I made sure that I looked good, as always, by checking out the mirror that was conveniently placed in the door of the hall that led into the bathroom.

  It’s almost as though this house was made to accommodate my charm, I thought with a sneaky, toothy grin. I turned around, assured that I looked irresistible, and knocked on her door. The bitch won’t even know what hit her.

  “Go away!” I heard her yell through the door and I tried not to snicker. I liked a woman with a little bit of spunk.

  “Damn, girl! It’s just me, Tyler. I just came to see if you wanted to talk about anything,” I answered in a cool, calm and collected way.

  I heard a grumble of disgust make its way through the door before she rebuffed, “I thought you of all people would be against running personal welfare pleas for my father…or your mother.”

  “Hey, I’m cool with personal welfare, but I am not up here because anyone told me to come. I don’t take orders from anybody,” I answered with a slight bite to my tone. I wasn’t the least bit insulted by what she said. In fact, I let it slide right off my back, but I certainly couldn’t let her think I was some pussy, going around doing errands for my mother, who doesn’t deserve the time of day, or her lovesick husband. However, I did recognize that this girl had a lot more spunk in her than her old man. I guess I had thought that since he was so easy to manipulate, she was going to be some dumb blond who would bend to my every whim. After all, I am pretty persuasive.

  Yet, I was happy to see that this was going to be a little bit more of a challenge. That’s okay, I thought as I rationalized it all in my head, I need some fresh meat.

  I decided to enact a little more force behind my approach. I grasped the door handle and pushed my way in.

  Fully clothed, unfortunately, I saw her immediately as she leapt off the bed and screamed.

  “What are you doing? Get out...”

  “Nobody tells me what to do,” I answered, sneering at her, but then shrugged, thinking that I should ease into being a tough guy. “Shit…I just said I wanted to talk.”

  “Get out, or I’ll yell for my dad and your mom…” She raised her eyebrows, as though that was supposed to scare me.

  I laughed genuinely and answered, with a slight sense of cynicism, “They’re too busy fucking to give a damn…”

  Her brow furrowed and her lips grew tight. I wasn’t sure if it was in reaction to what I had said, or my whole demeanor, but it amused me either way. She was so fresh, so renewed and so…delightfully different, that seeing her like this, standing up to me, giving no indication about her real feelings toward me, made me want to work all the harder to earn her trust and gain entry into her bed.

  However, after a few moments in what was something of a standoff, I figured that I probably wasn’t going to get anywhere with the way that I was acting. I decided to change my approach yet again. I let my shoulders fall and I shrugged a careful, seemingly remorseful way and answered with a debonair appeal, “I heard your fight with your father…” I put my hand up, so that I could explain myself before she physically attacked me in a way that I didn’t exactly prefer. “I get it. He can be an ass, but I just wanted to say that if you wanted to talk to someone, other than your dad, or my mom, someone who knows what’s up…” I then gave a reassuring smile, before I said, “I’m always there.” I strategically turned around, but then stopped, mid-pivot in order to tell her, “And for the record, I don’t think that being an instant brother and sister is all that great to begin with either.” I allowed my eyes to travel up and down her body, as though I was frisking her with my sight, before I sneered in a devilish way and added, “Especially when you are so damn fine.”

  At this, I received a reluctant smile before she rolled her eyes at me, but I had gotten what I had come for.

  With women, it was all about the feelings. Where I had just one goal and a million different tactics to get that one thing, women had a million goals and only one real access point. However, like striking gold, once a man found that sweet spot in her emotions, it could lead him directly between her legs in a record amount of time.

  Therefore, I figured I would leave her wanting more, so
I shrugged and moved out of the room.

  Now, it is time to initiate phase two, I thought to myself as I entered my room and closed the door slowly behind me, trying best to ignore the sounds of her father and my mother banging on the floor below us. I wasn’t joking with her about that fucking thing. The two of them went at it like rabbits, but I also had a sneaking suspicion that the sex was the only thing holding their marriage together.

  However, I understood completely; I wasn’t going to put a ring on it to prove I understood, but I wasn’t judging.

  Over the course of the next week, I tried my best to play nice and pretend that I really was a good guy.

  I still refused to give up my sense of swagger, or my focus for exercise, since no booty was worth that much to me. After all, I still had an image to maintain, but I was nicer to her than I would have been if I wasn’t interested; especially after all of the disrespect she showed me.

  I wasn’t used to being played, especially not by any woman. I tried to reach out to her, but she just shot me down. Lucky for her, I was enticed by the prospect of a challenge.

  Even still, besides her quick to put down wit and annoyingly egotistical sense of self-righteousness, she didn’t give me much to go on.

  Throughout the next week, she basically did whatever it was she did.

  After the first night when I barged in on her, she discovered that the door locked and didn’t forget; not even once. I made sure that every time I went by, I checked.

  I wasn’t trying to be perverted or anything, but I wouldn’t have minded getting a sneak peek at what I was working so hard for.

  However, I did find it a little bit strange that she hardly ever talked to her father. After making it clear to everyone that he was the only reason she was here, I would have thought that she would have been a little keener to speak to him, or hell, even look at him.

  Yet, in those rare moments when I did see her emerging from what was basically her little cave, which had, as far as I could tell, remained untouched, as though she was trying to preserve the memory of something, I did notice that she wasn’t as angry as she was sad.