Slade: A Stepbrother Romance (8 page)

“I
trusted you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her face burning red
as her anger began to boil inside of her. “I trusted you to help me get our
brother
home
.”

“Well,
that was poor judgment on your part,” I said, gently touching the cheek she’d
assaulted. “You really ought to have known better, Iris. I’m not the guy who
sticks around.”

“No,”
she said, glaring up at me, “you’re just the piece of shit who fucks his own
stepsister and runs crying like a child when his daddy gets mad. Go. I’m not
going to let you hurt me the way you did before. I don’t want to see you in my
apartment again.”

“Works
for me,” I said, shrugging as I put on my jeans and my shirt and grabbed the
keys to my rental. “There aren’t any shortage of rooms at the motel.”

“Good.
Hopefully that’s the only place that’s stupid enough to let you sleep in their
beds,” she said, throwing my belt at me as I left through her front door. I
heard it slam just behind me before I could even turn around. I heaved a sigh
before slowly walking down to my car.

This
is for the best
, I told myself.
She’s better off
getting hurt a little now rather than having her heart really broken later
.

But
the more I told myself that it was best to just cut and run, the less I wanted
it to be true. Time and experience had shown me otherwise—all I was good for
was hurting others. Maybe it was time I just cut all of my losses and headed
home. I’d already ruined whatever chance I had of doing what I came there for;
Kellan was adamant about hating me, hating our family. I’d never reach him. I’d
failed, just like I failed Iris when I’d abandoned her, when I’d betrayed her
trust.

It
was time to leave.

~
NINE ~

Iris

How the hell did this keep happening
to me? Seven years ago, I could understand it. I’d been naïve. A virgin. A girl
who’d concocted a whole
Romeo & Juliet
scenario around a boy she was
forbidden to love. Seven years ago, I hadn’t known any better.

But now, today? That was a much
different story. I’d known, in my heart of hearts, who Slade Jarvis was.
What
he was. But I’d let my guard down anyway, all because I’d wanted to believe. Believe
that he’d changed, or that what happened back then was a misunderstanding.
Believe that he hadn’t just used and abused me, and that all the things we’d
done—the things that
I
had done—had meant something more than a way for
Slade to get his rocks off. I thought I had seen something in his eyes. Heard
something in his voice when he was drunk and felt like he was being accused of
raping me.

I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. And
so fucking stupid, too. He was probably just worried about getting in trouble.

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

It had seemed so enticing at the
time, though—especially after I’d spent so much time feeling lonely after he’d
gone, how I’d envisioned him spending the night with some bar slut just before
he came home. He’d looked so sexy with that cut on his lip, so rugged. And I
was worried about my brother. I needed the comfort. And then he seemed so
vulnerable. That should have been my first clue. Slade Jarvis, vulnerable? Right.
But that’s what I wanted to see.

Which Slade probably knew. He always
knew. He was like a bloodhound that way, searching for vulnerable, unsuspecting
girls to put his dick into. He’s a master at figuring out the exact right thing
to do or say that will entice a girl into spreading her legs.

Dear God, I was my stepbrother’s
fuck-toy, his personal, living, breathing Real Doll. I’d invited trouble into
my bed because… why? Because I haven’t been fucked in a year? Because Slade
knew just what to do to turn me on? How the hell had I let that blind me? Now
he was gone—he’d gotten his and left me all alone to deal with the
consequences.

Again.

It could’ve been worse,
I reminded myself as I chucked a TV dinner into the microwave and set it for
three minutes.
At least this time, your family doesn’t know what a stupid whore
you are.

That was something, I guessed, but it
wasn’t exactly making me feel better about myself, and especially not when I
heard my phone ring and realized my stepfather was calling me.

For a moment, irrational terror
gripped me.
Shit. How did he know?

He couldn’t have. Could he? It wasn’t
like Slade would just run off and tell him. Then again, Slade had said some
pretty shitty things not too long ago. What if this was round two of him
fucking with me, ruining my life, my reputation amongst our family?

Thankfully, I was just being
paranoid, because when I picked up, he cut me off with news before I could even
say “hello.”

“Kellan called.”

I blinked, hard, and my heart
fluttered with hope. Shakily sitting down at my kitchen table, I whispered, “Really?
He did? Oh, Dad, that’s such great news—”

“Not really,” he gruffed and
immediately that sinking feeling washed over me again.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Is he
okay?”

“He’s fine, Iris. Well, as ‘fine’ as
a drug addict can be, I suppose.” Dad sighed. I could envision him running his
hand through his thinning hair, graying at the temples after all he’d been
through with the three of us. First me and Slade, fucking like rabbits who also
happened to be related to each other, and then Kellan, running off with his
junkie friends to God knows where to do God knows what. I felt so guilty
sometimes—at least two thirds of his problems had to do with my side of the
family.

“He didn’t say much about how he was
doing, honestly,” Dad continued. “You know him—he wouldn’t give anything away.
Not until he wants to be found. Instead, he called to warn me, and he wanted me
to pass the message on to you. He wanted you to know that your stepbrother was
in town.”

I bit my lip. What was I supposed to
say to that? I guessed that depended on what Kellan had told him, which of
course, I had no way of knowing. Fuck. I hated lying. I hated playing games
centered around who knew what. I’d had my fill of that shit over the past seven
years. I put my face in my hand and rubbed the bridge of my nose.

“He is?” was all I could think of to
say.

“Apparently,” my stepfather answered,
“Kellan saw him the other day, and the two of them got into it. I wanted to be
sure you knew. After what he did to you, and in our house, no less, I wouldn’t
be surprised if he came calling. My son, unfortunately, knows no shame. Kellan
wanted me to warn you, wanted to make sure you locked your doors and kept
safe.” He paused, as though he didn’t even want to consider the possibility,
then asked, “You didn’t tell Slade to come here, did you? After the argument we
had about it the other day…”

“Why would you think that?” I said
quickly, but nearly choked on the words. My mouth was dry. I stood up and
fumbled in my cabinets for a glass. “I mean, I don’t even know his number…”

“Of course. You wouldn’t do that,” my
stepfather murmured as I filled it up from the tap. “You’re a victim in all
this. You wouldn’t put yourself at risk, after what that bastard did to you.”

“Dad…” I took a sip of water before starting
again. “We’ve been over this, haven’t we? I know you don’t like to talk about
it, but what happened back then in that pool house was…”

“Monstrous,” my stepfather
interjected. “I knew my son had his issues, Iris, but I swear, I never imagined
he’d take advantage of you.”

But he did,
I added inwardly.
Twice, now.
Maybe my stepfather was right. Maybe Slade
was some kind of monster.

No, that wasn’t fair. And it reminded
me of what Kellan had said to Slade right before he’d punched him in the mouth.

“Is that why Kellan called you, Dad?”
I asked him, dreading his response. When he didn’t give me one, I pressed him.
“I mean, why else would he be warning you Slade was here? Why else would he
want you to make sure I knew?”

“Kellan knows the truth,” he finally
replied. “He knows that bastard forced himself on you.”

I felt all the blood drain from my
face. Slade was telling the truth about that part, at least.
Forced
himself on me? “Dad, that’s not even…” But I knew it was no use arguing that
point. He’d never believe his sweet, innocent stepdaughter had asked for
it—literally begged for his son’s cock. Instead, I asked, “Why would you tell
Kellan that? Why, when you worked so hard to keep it a secret? When neither of
us ever wanted him to know?”

“He was asking questions, Iris,” my
stepfather said, his voice sounded wearier by the minute. “He was angry with me
for kicking Slade out, and he never stopped blaming me. By the time he was
sixteen, Kellan had gotten it into his head that I hated him, and that the only
reason I’d sent Slade away was to make him miserable. He said I was jealous of
Slade, of their relationship. That Slade was smarter than I was, and I felt
weak in comparison. I took his outbursts for a while, shielded your mother from
them, but finally, I had to tell him the truth. He needed to know that the man
he looked up to was a selfish bastard who nearly tore our family apart on a
sadistic whim. He needed to get over his… fixation with your stepbrother.”

So that’s why Kellan ran away this time.
And that’s why he hadn’t been back. Because my stepfather had lost his temper.
My hands were shaking.
What the hell?

“It wasn’t just Slade, though, Dad,”
I said softly, shaking my head. “I was just as much to blame for what happened
as he was. Okay, maybe I didn’t know what he was planning that day, but I
didn’t exactly tell him no. It was my choice.”
And my biggest mistake.

My stepfather snorted derisively. “You
may think that, Iris, but I know what an effect an older boy can have on a
young girl. I know how manipulative they are. You didn’t choose him, honey. He
just gave you the illusion of a choice. I hate to hear you blame yourself.”

As usual, my stepfather refused to
accept the truth. I shook my head again. “This is why Kellan ran away, isn’t it?
After you told him, that’s when things really got bad.”

My stepfather sighed deeply, like the
weight of the world was rushing out of him along with his breath. “I never told
you because I was… ashamed of how I’d handled it. I never should have told him,
Iris. I did it out of anger, and I’m… I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

But was it? Because the more we
talked, the more it seemed like really, it was all mine.

I was the one who’d fallen for
Slade’s tricks seven years ago. I was the one who hadn’t been smart enough to
see through him. And I was the one who’d gone running back to him, thinking it
would help, when all it did was dredge up the most painful memories of Kellan’s
whole life, reminding him of the betrayal he’d suffered—how the person he’d looked
up to most in all the world had turned out to be some… monster. A
rapist.

I felt sick. My stepfather might’ve
been the catalyst for all this, but I was sure as hell the reason everything
was going wrong now. Slade Jarvis really was the biggest mistake of my life—and
I’d made it twice.

~
TEN ~

Slade

Airports,
by their very nature, were loud.

It
was hard to even think over all the sounds of people talking in the cavernous
halls, their echoing voices filling my ears again and again. People of all
shapes and sizes rushed by me, hustling to and fro between the ticket counter
and the path that led to their chosen terminal. As I stood there I felt an
enormous weight on top of me, particularly as I watched the men and women
working the ticket counter.

I
had spent the previous night at a cheap motel just inside of the city limits of
my hometown, and the moment I’d woken up, I was dead set on making a break for
it. The wounds from the night before still felt fresh, and I knew deep down
that leaving would be the right thing to do.

But
then why did I feel so terrible about it?

If
this was the right decision, why was I so conflicted about buying that ticket?
I knew what would happen if I stayed, if I dared to even imagine a relationship
with Iris—there would only ever be pain. I knew in my gut that the right
decision for me would be to just stay out of her life. Who knows, maybe Kellan
would eventually grow up and head back home after he realized how much of an
idiot he’d been. Maybe their genuine hatred of me could bring them back together
and turn them into one big, happy family.

But
what if it doesn’t
? I asked myself, feeling
the weight of the bag in my hand pulling down on me like an anchor.
What if
something happens, and I was the cause
?

And
then there was the deep sense of responsibility I felt for the havoc I’d caused
my friends and family. I wanted to forget, go back to the days where I didn’t
care about the feelings of others and could shrug off women like a jacket I’d
worn for too long. I wanted that sense of freedom from my own worries. I wanted
to feel nothing again.

Especially
when it came to Iris Walker.

Iris
fucking Walker, the sweet girl I’d used and run out on—twice, now. The girl who
everyone assumed I’d raped. I’d done a lot of fucked up shit in my time, sure,
but rape? That was never something I’d even considered. My stomach lurched at
the thought.

If
that was what everyone thought of me, what was the point of trying to change
their minds? Obviously, I’d fucked up so bad they thought of me as a violent
offender, as a
criminal,
as the kind of animal who’d violate a woman
just to get his way.

My
heart nearly froze in my chest as I realized that from anyone else’s
perspective, that may actually look an awful lot like what I’d done to Iris,
and as I dwelled on it, the most painful thought of all came crashing into me:
What
would Mom say? What would she think of the way you turned out?

No.
I couldn’t handle thoughts like those, just like I couldn’t handle everyone’s
eyes on me, judging, condemning. Let them go on thinking Slade’s the big, bad
bogeyman hiding under their beds. Fuck ‘em. Fuck ‘em all. I know what I am. 
Let them think what they want.

My
phone buzzed in my pocket. At first I was annoyed, but then I saw Iris’ name
scrawled across my screen. My chest tightened. Could I handle talking to her
after what we’d done the night before?

Against
my better judgment, I swiped my thumb over the green “answer” icon on my phone
and put the speaker to my ear, my eyes closed.

“Iris,”
I said, trying to be as curt as possible.

“Where
are you?” she asked, though for some reason I couldn’t get a good read on her
tone. She didn’t sound angry, at least not at me, and there was something else
mixed in to her voice. Something like concern.

“I’m
at a bar,” I said, figuring that would be the best excuse for all of the noise
going on around me. If she knew I was leaving, then this conversation would go
downhill real fast. It was better if she didn’t know. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“I
need to talk to you,” she said, a frustrated sigh crackling through the phone.
“It’s about Kellan… and Dad.”

“You’re
not giving me much of a reason to keep talking,” I grumbled, giving heavy
consideration to just hanging up. I hated even
thinking
about my father,
let alone actually bringing him up in conversation.

“Be
an adult for two minutes, please?” Iris asked, her exasperation with me now in
full swing. “Dad called me earlier. Apparently, after you went to see Kellan at
that house, he called Dad to warn him that you were back. He told Dad that I
needed to be kept safe from you. But he kept calling you my
rapist
.”

“So,
everyone thinks I’m a rapist but you, huh?” I scoffed, shaking my head. “What
do you want me to do about that? No one here has any interest in anything I
have to say.”

“That’s
the point of this discussion, Slade,” she snapped, silencing me pretty damn
quick. “It was my dad who sent Kellan on this spiral.”

I
scrunched my face. “But why? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Because
of you, apparently,” Iris said. “Kellan always talked about you, even after
you’d left, and even blamed Dad for ‘pushing you away.’ Apparently, that was
the straw that broke the camel’s back with him, and he told Kellan
everything—but altered more than a few details, like the fact that he thinks
you raped me.”

“Just
more proof that coming back here was a huge mistake,” I muttered, massaging the
bridge of my nose. “I knew staying would only make everything worse off than it
already was. I knew I should just leave.”

There
was silence over the phone for a moment, broken only by the soft sounds of
Iris’s breathing. I knew the moment I’d said it that I’d given too much away,
shown my hand when I should have played it close to my chest.

“So,
that’s what you’re going to do? Just up and leave like you always do?” Iris let
out a snort. “Christ, you’re at the airport, aren’t you, getting ready to cut
and run—
again?”

Doesn’t
she get it
? I thought, holding my head in my free
hand.
All of this would be so much better if I wasn’t there
.

“This
is what’s best for everyone, Iris,” I said. “With me gone, everyone can get
back to their lives again, and Kellan and Dad can get back to hating me -
together
.”

“It’s
better for
you,
maybe,” she shot back. “But then again, it’s always been
about what’s best for Slade. After all, you never really considered how
everyone would
really
feel after you were gone. You’re so concerned with
your own needs that you always put them first, justifying that everything you
do is for the best for everyone else. Just like when you left me seven years
ago.”

My
stomach clenched. I had hoped to God she would avoid it, just like I had all
this time, that it was too painful for her to even speak of. My heart started
to race as I tried to think of a way to get out of this, some way to avoid what
I’d been trying to hide from for the better part of a decade.

“You
need to face up to your problems,” Iris said, frustration laden in her voice.
“You’ve got to stop running from—”

I
smashed my thumb against the red “end call” button, cutting her off from
finishing her undoubtedly long lecture on my responsibilities. I knew what I
had to do the moment I hit that button.

I
stepped up to the ticket counter, waiting for the clerk to finish with whatever
complicated computer work she was engaged in. I could still hear my pulse in my
ears, thumping like a drum to the beat of my own panic attack. This was the
only way that this could end, with me going somewhere far, far away.

“Good
afternoon, sir. Are you going to be flying with us today?” the young lady
asked, finally turning her attention toward me. She was blonde and pretty,
exactly the kind of girl I would have fucked in a heartbeat. It even crossed my
mind to seduce her right there and convince her to go for a round while I was
waiting for my flight. But even as I thought of it, I knew that it wasn’t the
least bit appealing to me. Not today.

“Yes,”
I said, trying to afford her the faintest hint of a smile. “I just need a
one-way ticket.”

“Where
to, sir?” the attendant asked, the same bright and cheery smile on her face
that had been there when I’d walked up. I almost didn’t understand what she was
asking, at first.

“I’m
sorry?” I said, frowning as I tried to pry myself out from my thoughts. “I
didn’t quite hear you.”

“I
asked, where are you going to be flying today?”

“Home,”
I answered, without really thinking about how vague I was being. That was all I
wanted, to be home where I was safe. But the more I thought of that word, the
less and less it reminded me of where I’d been only a few days before—the
hospital, my apartment, all the nurses who hated my guts.

“Are
you able to be a little more specific, sir?” the attendant asked, her smile
faltering. Clearly I wasn’t making her job any easier. “I can’t really sell you
a ticket for ‘home’ unless you tell me where ‘home’ is.”

Where
was
home?

I
hadn’t really felt at home since my mother died. To me, home had always meant
with
her,
and after she was gone, there was no place left for me to feel like I
belonged.
The past couple days,
though, spending time with Iris—that was the closest I’d come to feeling like I
was at home. As silly as that sounded, it was true.

Being
with Iris made me feel like I was where I was supposed to be, but I knew that
feeling was dangerous. The second I got angry, the second anyone got too close,
I’d lash out and hurt someone again. I’d hurt
Iris
again. I’d proven
that to myself already, with how I’d treated her this morning.

But
what else was there for me? Every time I thought of the word “home,” I saw my
stepsister’s pretty face.

As
I let the idea stew in my mind, I began to realize that where my job was had
never been home—not even when I first left my father’s house. None of the
places I had lived had ever really been
home
.

Then
it hit me all at once:
this
was home. Even after all this time, this
town had never once stopped being my home. Everything that I’d ever really
cared about in my life was settled right in this place, and all I’d been doing
since that day seven years ago was running, like some scared little kid. I was
okay with them thinking I was some kind of monster because it was
easy.
Because I felt like, after what I’d done, I didn’t deserve a home anymore. I
didn’t even deserve to be near my mother’s grave. And facing up to what I’d
done, seeking redemption for it, had all seemed too big. Too hard. An
insurmountable task to accomplish.

Like
some little kid, I had been running away from home for the past seven years.

I
couldn’t leave. Not again. I couldn’t leave
her.
Not when I had so much
to atone for. Not when doing that might finally stop my demons from chasing me
around the world.

“I’m
really sorry,” I said, snapping out of my torpor. “I actually don’t need to go
anywhere today. I’m right where I need to be.”

“All
right, sir, if that’s what you’d like,” she said, not at all sharing my
enthusiasm over my revelation. “Now, if there’s nothing else that you need here,
then I’d appreciate it if you’d let the next person through and exit the line.”

I
smiled and turned around, hoisting my bag up onto my shoulder as I made my way
back through the crowd of impatient people waiting for their turn at the ticket
counter. I almost cursed myself for already returning my rental car, but it
would only cost a few moments and a couple of dollars to get myself a new one.

My
thoughts were only of Iris, of apologizing for everything I’d done over the
last few days—hell, for the last few
years
. I’d spent so much time
running from the idea of hurting anyone that I didn’t realize that staying away
was hurting her—and me—more than anything else. She’d opened herself up to me
again, even though she had no reason to. I sure as hell hadn’t given her one,
had I? I’d been an ass right from the start.
Again.