Текст книги "Bastard: A stepbrother Romance"

Автор книги: Coco Cadence

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter 27

Chris

A few days later, at night …

Talking with Adrian about how I screwed things up with Em wasn’t something I had in mind when she ran off, and it felt like my ears were about to collapse when he was finally done. I didn’t expect him to come back into my room after a fucking condom almost slapped him in the face. But I know my brother is a stubborn motherfucker.

And a fatherly motherfucker, too.

Damn, I hate it when they talk to me like a kid, even though I deserve it. I know full well what I’ve done. I got drunk and I had to pay the price. She ran off, mad at me for seducing her again, and now my brother is pissed that I messed it up with her and almost screwed it up with the press again.

I really have to get my shit straight, but how? Without Em, I’m lost. It’s as if I’m a fucking cannon ready to blow. I need her in my life to calm me down. To keep me in check. But she doesn’t want me. No matter how hard or how much I try, she keeps pushing me away.

And I know exactly why.

It’s unforgivable, what I did.

And yet I’m still going to beg her to forgive me.

Somehow. Someday.

Every fucking day, I’ll wait outside her office, outside her home. I’ll wait for her to finally want to talk to me again. I don’t care if it takes a month or a year, but I will make this right again.

For days, we’ve only communicated through email and text. Only the necessary things like interviews and rules, nothing personal. It’s so cold and it breaks my heart, but I won’t stop trying to see her.

Every time she spots me outside her house as I sit on my motorcycle watching her get ready for work, she frowns at me. So I leave, because I know she’s not ready yet. But I always come back.

She just needs time to think about us, so time is what I’m gonna give her … but not without me being near her. I can’t deal with it if I can’t see her. If I can’t keep on believing that she’ll be ready for me someday, then I have nothing left to live for.

I lived on shreds of happiness, moments in my life with her, for these last few years, but it’s not enough anymore. Those small sparks I felt when I thought of her were what kept me going, what fueled me to go into racing and to prove to myself and to her that I could aspire to something more than just a worthless asshole.

However, those sparks aren’t enough for me anymore. I need her. I want her in my life as more than just my go-to girl for PR, as more than just my stepsister. I long for her the way we used to be before I blew everything.

The sun is down, and the streetlights are on, only barely illuminating the dark streets. Her building stands out in the moonlight, towering above the rest of the city. As I sit here on my bike in a nearby alley, staring at the front door, wondering about when she’s coming back and what the hell I’m doing with my life, I spot her walking down the sidewalk while searching through her bags for keys. She keeps sifting through it, getting more panicked as time passes. I wonder if she lost them, and if so, where. Should I go and help?

But then I see another man running after her, a guy with a baseball cap and jogging suit on. I watch as he taps her shoulder and she turns around with a scrunched up nose. He smiles awkwardly and hands her the key while saying something. I’m too far away to hear what they’re saying, but I guess she’s thanking him for his help and that’s that, because she turns around immediately and starts walking again.

Except the man doesn’t stop walking after her.

Concerned, I watch closely as she glances at him over her shoulder and speeds up her walk. Something’s not right. The man behind her keeps walking after her, not even taking a turn when the opportunity presents itself, even though her building is practically situated in a dead end. She looks behind her again, and then her feet are carrying her faster than lightning as she starts running. She enters the building, the man following suit.

I don’t spare a second to kick into gear and race toward her building, parking right outside, not giving a shit if my bike is secure. This dude has no business going into her building, and my gut tells me he’s looking for trouble. Whatever’s on his mind, it’s not good. Well, he’s messing with the wrong guy. That’s my girl, and I’ll protect her ‘til my death if I have to.

As I bulldoze into the building, I hear them running up the stairs. Thud, thud, thud. He’s skipping steps to get to her quicker than she can run to her door. I can already picture her frantic breathing, her fingers fumbling with the keys as she attempts to force them into the lock. All while this menacing fucker is behind her, thinking of all the ways he’s going to hurt her. Or worse …

I stomp up the stairs, adrenaline kicking into full gear as I realize what’s about to happen. Every second is one too many. She’s in danger and I have to get to her, now.

The moment I arrive on her floor, everything feels like it’s going in slow motion. I hear her scream. The guy has her wrist pinned tightly behind her back, pushing her against the door. The key has dropped on the floor, along with her purse. He’s groping her with one hand, his tongue dipping out to lick her skin. I won’t let it make contact. When her eyes connect with mine, I know what I have to do.

“GET OFF HER!” I rush toward him, tackling him in the process. I don’t give a shit if I get hurt, as long as this motherfucker gets what he deserves.

“Get off me!” he yells, trying to wriggle out from underneath me, but I punch him in the face, hard, over and over again.

A groan leaves his mouth, his teeth shattered, sparsely scattered on the floor, his nose broken from one single impact.

“You thought you could have her, huh? Did you?” I punch him again, this time in the stomach.

He cringes so much, he bucks, and for a second, I think he’s going to puke, but then he rolls over to a fetal position. “No, stop.”

“Stop? Did you ask her if she wanted you to touch her? You filthy piece of shit!” I punch him again, causing him to howl.

“Chris! Stop,” Emily says.

“I’m sorry!” he says.

I grab his collar, dragging him up so I can scream in his face. “Sorry won’t fix what you just tried to do!”

“It was a mistake. I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

“Promises mean shit coming from scum like you.” I try to punch him again, but her voice breaks into my thoughts and makes me stop.

“Chris! Enough!”

I look up at her eyes, which sparkle from the impending tears. Her eyes, gentle and yet so terrified, soften my hardened heart.

“Please …” the guy begs.

It’s not his begging, but her pleading gaze that makes me stand up. The guy immediately crawls out and scrambles up to two feet.

I growl, “If I ever see your fucking face here again, I’ll kill you.”

Chapter 28

Chris

Emily’s attacker doesn’t even dare to look at me as he tries to run past me, but I’m looking at him all right. I’m keeping eyes on him like a hawk until he’s down the stairs and out of the building before I return my attention toward Emily.

“Are you okay?” I say, as I grab her arm and look at the mark he left. There’s a bit of a bruise, but I can’t see anything else.

“I’m fine …” she says, jerking away, but her eyes tell a different story.

She’s shaking in her boots, but it’s as if she’s trying to hide it from me. I don’t understand why.

“You don’t look fine,” I say as I tip her chin up with my index finger.

Her eyes drift off, but I can definitely see the tears.

“C’mere,” I say, and I drag her toward me.

“No, I said I’m fine,” she says, turning the other cheek.

She bends over to grab the keys from the floor and opens her door without even granting me one look.

“Em … are you sure you’re gonna be all right?”

She stands in the door opening, frozen, and then her body starts to tremble again.

The moment I step toward her so I can hug her, she says, “Stop.”

“But—”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says.

“Do what? Protect you? Fuck, Em, you still don’t realize how much I care about you?”

“You almost killed him.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat. She’s right; I would’ve killed him if I had the chance. If she hadn’t stopped me, I would have.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away there. But he was about to hurt you. You have to understand.”

She shivers, grabbing her arms as if she’s cold. “Promise me you don’t go after him.”

I frown. “Why do you care so much?”

One quick glance over her shoulder and I’m weak at the knees. “Because I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

To an outsider, it might sound like she’s lecturing me, like she’s telling me what to do, or what I can’t do. But I know she’s only saying it because she’s afraid to lose me. She doesn’t want me to go to jail, or worse, end up dead. All because I tried to get revenge on the dude who tried to lay a hand on her.

Goddammit. If I could go back and punch him in the face, I’d do it until it landed me in jail. My fist is chomping at the bit.

“I could kill that motherfucker …”

“I know you could,” she says.

“But I won’t,” I add.

“Good.”

She walks further into her apartment, but she forgot her bag, so I pick it up and follow her. When I place her bag on the stand beside the door, she glances over her shoulder, rubbing her lips together, as if she isn’t sure about what to do. Like she’s still trying to process what happened.

“I don’t think I should leave you alone right now,” I say.

“Chris, I appreciate you coming to my rescue, but please …”

“No, I’m not going to leave.” I close the door behind me.

“Why do you always have to be so freaking stubborn?”

“Because you can’t face your own feelings so someone has to make you,” I say, walking toward her.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“You think that’s a choice you can make?” I snort. “Look at you, you’re shaking. Your eyes are all watery. You’re exhausted. And scared. And probably many other things.”

“Angry. That’s what I am. You’re in my apartment, Chris. I can’t remember ever inviting you in.” She points her key at me as if it’s some sort of tool that she’ll use to direct me out of the door.

“I invited myself in at the moment you ignored the fact that you’re not fucking okay.” I snatch the keys from her hand and throw it on the table. “That dude just attacked you for no reason. He stalked you. He followed you into this building. Hell, I’m not surprised if it turns out he stole your keys so he could return them to you for the exact reason of getting under your skin.”

“So? There are always weirdos around this area. It happens.”

“Dammit, Em!” I slam the wall with my fist, unable to control my rage. I guess it’s leftover from not being able to beat that punk to a pulp. “Can’t you see that you nearly got hurt there? Did you see the look in his eyes? What he was about to do? What he was thinking of doing to you? Because I could see it, and just thinking about makes me want to rip out his heart and feed it to him.”

She cringes, biting her lips as if she doesn’t want to deal with it. “He was drunk.”

“Stop making excuses for other people!” I yell. “You’re not their PR lady. You don’t have to be okay with what everyone does around you. Stop letting everyone run over you. Fight, goddammit. Scream it out. Let the world know you’re not a pussy and tell them what you think.”

Her hand suddenly comes up, and I barely manage to catch her wrist before she hits me in the head.

“Shut up!” she screams, a tear rolling down her cheeks. “I am not a pussy.”

“But you do ignore your own feelings,” I growl.

“I’m not weak.” She manages to wriggle free from my grip and storms into the bathroom. “Now leave me alone!”

Slamming the door shut, it’s suddenly quiet, and I’m left in the middle of her apartment, wondering what I’m supposed to do. She’s so fucking stubborn that it’s ridiculous. However, I know when I’m needed, and that time is now. No way in hell she can sleep without one eye open after what just happened. She’s still in denial, which means I have to help her get through this.

I knock on the bathroom door.

“Get out!”

“No,” I say, sitting down against the door.

She makes a raging noise. “Just leave me alone!”

The door isn’t even locked, but I’m not going to enter when I’m not sure she won’t throw shit at my head. She needs to calm down first. I respect that.

“Are you gone yet?”

“No,” I say softly.

“Why?” she yells through the door.

“Because I know you need me.”

Neither of us says anything for a while, and it’s eerily quiet for some time. Then I hear the shower turn on and her step into the tub. I never heard her take off her clothes, and I can’t see any shadows of the light falling down on them through the crack under the door.

“Emily?”

She doesn’t answer.

“You okay in there?” I get up from the floor and push down on the door handle.

Opening the door carefully, I peek around the corner to make sure she isn’t huddled behind it. I don’t want to slam it into her face. I hope she won’t kill me for coming in, but I have to know if she’s all right.

That’s when I spot her in the corner of the tub. Completely drenched. With all of her clothes on.

“Go away …” she mumbles.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m not okay,” she says. “I never was okay. Not today. Not yesterday. Not months ago. Not since … since …” She sniffs.

“Say it.” I frown. “Say what you need to say to me.”

She glances up at me with red eyes. “I hate you, Chris. I hate you with all my guts. And do you know what the worst part is? That I can’t stop wanting you, either. I hate that I want you.”

“Let me fix it.”

“Fix what?” she yells. “Me? Us? There is no fixing, Chris. Not for this.”

I swallow away the nerves as sweat drips down my back. “I can try.”

She growls. “You can’t bring my father back!”

I stare at her in shock.

I knew all along this was the reason she hated me for so long.

I just didn’t expect her to finally tell me what she really thought. What she’s been holding back all this time. Her words cut me like a knife … because they are true.

“I hate you because you killed my father!”

Chapter 29

Emily

Age 17

The leaves rustle and fly out from underneath my bench. I watch them surf on the wind like hovering birds, wishing I could hop on and take a ride to nowhere land. If only I could disappear. Not forever, but at least for a few days. Or weeks. Or maybe even longer.

The images rushing through my head over and over again make me want to scream.

I can still see them staring at me—all the other kids in my class—the moment they heard Chris scream through the microphone meant for a regular announcement.

The shame.

The unbelievable panic that swept through me.

It all became too much.

I fled the building as soon as his rant was over.

I couldn’t face their laughs, their whispers, their remarks.

Not even the teachers could stop me.

It was in the middle of class. I just stood up and left. No bell ringing, no toilet break. They’ll probably send me to detention when I come back. If I’m ever brave enough to step foot back into school again. Probably not for a long while.

Not that I care.

All I can think about is how much I hate Chris for doing this.

How could he?

I don’t understand why he couldn’t do this some other time, or maybe not at all. He knew how I felt about my dad finally finding someone to spend his life with. Why does he have to make it so difficult on the both of us? And now this?

He not only ruined my life, but he ruined that of my father, too.

Sighing, I kick away a few leaves, frustrated that I can’t change what he’s done. The only thing I know to do now is go home and talk it out with my father. Maybe he’ll forgive me if I try hard enough to apologize. I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand like this. And what Chris did, he did on his own. If I’d known that he was going to do that, then I would’ve done everything to stop him.

But what’s done is done.

I should focus on fixing what he broke.

I want to apologize to my dad for what he did, even if it wasn’t my choice for him to do it in the first place. I feel like I owe that to him, even though I didn’t have the guts to do it when he first came storming out of the school building. I wanted to, but I was glued to this bench and watched him race off in his car, probably on his way home. He’ll probably call in sick and ask for a few days off. I hope he doesn’t get fired over this.

Frowning, I force myself to get up from the bench. I have to do something about this situation.

In a haze, I make my way home, trying to think of what to say. The road home feels longer than usual, probably because I’m freaking nervous and I’m sweating like a pig. When I finally make it to the door, my heart is going crazy, almost beating out of my chest. There’s no turning back on this one, though.

As I walk into the house, I shake off my nerves and prepare for the onslaught of my father’s anger. I deserve all of it. Okay, maybe only half, because the other part is Chris’s doing, but still. Chris didn’t have the right. My father was looking for happiness, and I understand that Chris is unhappy that it turned out to be his mother, but for me, it was great because my father finally found love again. He always believed he would never find anyone again after my mother died. But I knew someday he would be happy again.

That day is probably not today, though.

I don’t see him in the living room. “Dad?” I hesitantly call out to him. I’m not sure I want him to reply, seeing as how mad he’ll be, but I know there’s no way in hell I’m going to avoid this, so I better get it done and over with.

I go upstairs and after chewing on my lip and blowing out a big breath, I open his bedroom door.

There’s no one there.

Frozen, I stare at the empty room for a while, before turning around and calling out his name again. “Dad? Where are you?”

I have no clue where he could be, but then I notice the faint light coming from underneath the bathroom door. I sidestep a stack of dirty laundry and open up the door. “Da—”

What I find makes my knees wobble and my feet tremble. The world is collapsing, destroying what’s left of my heart.

I fall to the cold stone tiles and crawl to my dad’s body, which lies lifelessly on the floor. His eyes are wide open, his mouth is frothing, and in his hand is an empty pill bottle.

I don’t know how much time has passed since he came into the house and took these pills. If I can still do anything.

No matter how many times I shake him or push my hands into his chest to make him breathe, nothing changes. He is still and I am living. He is gone while I’m still here.

I knew then that I would never again call for my dad.

Because I didn’t have a dad anymore.

Chapter 30

Chris

Hugging her legs, she’s buried her head in her knees, and I can see her back going up and down, following her erratic breathing.

“I’m sorry.”

That’s all that comes from my mouth. It’s not much, and probably not at all what she wants to hear, but it’s all I can do.

“You killed him …” she mutters.

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“He’s dead because of what you did!” she yells.

I swallow back my own tears. “Nothing I say will change that fact.”

“No.”

“And it won’t bring him back.”

“He’s gone … and it’s your fault.”

“I know that. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make that up to you.”

I walk toward her, but she curls further up into the cocoon she’s made for herself, trying to protect her emotions. She’s a wreck and rightfully so. The man assaulting her has opened up old wounds that I didn’t think would be this fresh.

“Em, I am really, really sorry. I can’t say it with words, but I feel it in here.” I press my hand against my chest. “I was selfish. I was arrogant. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences of my words. How my actions would ruin your life and your father’s life.”

“I should hate you.”

“Yes, you should,” I say.

“I have to hate you. For his sake.” She glances at me and blinks away a couple of tears. “He didn’t deserve any of that.”

“He didn’t and neither did you. And you know what? I hate myself every single day of my life for doing that to you.”

She frowns, biting her lip, but she doesn’t respond.

“But I won’t give up trying to make it up to you. I owe that to you.”

She turns her head away from me, staring at the tiles on the wall instead.

“Em …” I go to her and turn off the shower so she won’t be soaked anymore.

“Just let me be …” she mumbles with a wheezy voice, definitely croaky from crying.

“It’s okay,” I murmur. “You’re all right.”

“No …” she mutters. “I’m not.”

I smile and unfurl her fingers from around her legs, but they’re quite tightly wrapped as if she’s desperately trying to hold onto her idea that she must be strong at all times. But she won’t budge, no matter how much I try.

“All right then. If you won’t come out …” I step into the tub. “Then I’ll come in here with you.”

“What?” she mutters, quickly glancing up at me before returning to her legs, but that one second was enough for me to see the dark circles under her eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” she says, turning away her eyes.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to see me like this.”

I muffle a laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with being weak.” I grab her arms and pull her toward me, forcing her to undo the stronghold she had on her legs. “Especially not after what just happened. What could’ve happened if I wasn’t there. And after everything that I did.”

She makes a face, turning her head away from me, probably so I won’t see her tears.

“Hey …” I say. “Look at me.”

She refuses, so I lean in closer. “It’s okay to feel bad. I’m not here to hurt you. I know I’ve been an asshole, but I do care about you. I always have.”

“He …” she mutters. “That guy almost …”

“It’s okay.” I shush her.

“No, it’s not okay,” she says, sucking in a breath. “I hate you.”

I laugh, as I pull her close and hug her tight. “Well, at least you admit you’re feeling something now. That’s better than nothing.”

Her body angles toward me, gravitating into my arms as I open them up for her. She clearly needs comfort right now, and I’m not going anywhere. She might say she’s fine, but I don’t believe a word of it.

“It’s okay …” I murmur as I wrap my arms around her. “I’m here.”

“But why you? Why does it always have to be you?” Her voice sounds desperate, as if she’s fighting so hard not to want me, but can’t.

“Because we need each other. Even though you hate my guts, and I deserve all your anger, we still want each other more than anything.”

“But you ruined everything!”

“I know … shh … it’s all right … it’s in the past.”

“How can I forgive if I can’t forget? How can I even want to be with you? It’s wrong.”

“I ask myself the same question,” I say.

“And that guy … the way he looked at me … god, it made me relive that day again. Same horror, same fear.”

I rock her silently in my arms. I don’t know what to say to make her feel better. Nothing I say or do will change what happened. All I can do is try to make her feel better about herself and feel better about what’s going on between us.

“God, I hate myself.”

“You shouldn’t hate yourself. I should hate myself,” I say, laughing a bit.

“It’s not funny.”

“I know. It’s just that I’m the reason you’re hurting. You shouldn’t feel guilty about anything. Not over your father, not over wanting or needing me. I’m the one who should feel guilty.”

“Yeah, you should,” she retorts.

I muffle a laugh. “And I do. Every day of my life, I feel like I don’t deserve you.” I smile, looking down at her teary eyes.

“But I won’t give up on you or us. I won’t because I know you need me, too. I used to think you didn’t want anything to do with me, which is why I tried to leave you alone. And then, when you came to the race track, I knew I had to do something. I was lost and I could see you were still angry about everything. We were both standing still in our lives.”

“I wasn’t … okay, maybe I was.” She sighs.

“We were both trying to make amends. You feel like you need to hate me so you won’t feel guilty about your father. So you’ll do your father justice. And I feel like I need to do anything in my power to make you happy. Even if that includes staying away from you. Except … that didn’t exactly work out the way I thought it would.”

For a second, I think I spot a faint smile on her face, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared.

“Anyway, I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m not giving up on you, Em. No matter how many times you ask me to, I’m not going to give up on fixing this; it’s as simple as that.”

She nods into my chest, and I can feel the teardrops falling as well as her completely drenched shirt soaking mine. I don’t give a damn. I’m already glad I have her in my arms, safe and unharmed. But her emotions are completely jumbled.

“He won’t hurt you anymore,” I mumble. “And neither will I.”

“I felt so powerless,” she says, sniffing.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get here any faster. And I’m sorry about your dad.”

“I’m already glad you were there in the first place. Stalker.” She muffles a laugh.

I laugh, too. “I can’t help myself. I just have to know you’re okay. If that means lurking in a corner, watching you every day, then I’ll gladly do it. I won’t back down from trying to be there for you. Unless you get a restraining order against me.”

“I might have to now,” she mutters under her breath.

I smile at her when she gazes up at me with doe eyes. “Well, I hope not, but considering the circumstances, you might have to, yeah, because I’m really not going to let you go, no matter how many times you tell me to leave.”

She shakes her head. “So I’m stuck with you.”

“Like glue,” I say.

“I’m still mad at you, you know that, right? Maybe I’ll always stay mad at you.”

“Yeah … Maybe. But I can take it.”

She smiles, and then hugs me again, whispering, “Bastard.”

I grin. “Just for you, babe.”

She shakes a little, and I can feel her clothes getting colder the longer we’re sitting here, so I turn on the warm shower again. We’re both soaked now, but I don’t give a damn. As long as she’s warm and comfortable.

“I feel better now, thanks,” she says, uncurling her arms from around my body.

I cup her face and caress her cheek. “I can’t take back what I did, and I can’t make you forget the past, but I can’t get you out of my head, either. I tried to do my thing without you, but it just won’t work.”

She nods, her eyes drifting off again. “I know. I have the same problem …”

“It’s not a problem if we both want it,” I say, and I lean in, hovering close to her lips.

I can’t stop myself. Even in a situation like this, when part of her doesn’t want me in her home, and someone just assaulted her, I still feel like I have to show her how much I love her. Because she needs it. She’s worth it all. And a part of her knows it, too … knows that she needs me to feel happy. To be free.

An inch from her lips I wait, holding off until she tilts her head and parts her lips, arching toward me. She’s not even fighting it anymore.

So I cover her mouth with mine and kiss her deeply, hoping that it’ll be enough to make her forget about the past.