Stepbrother Bastard (11 page)

“
Maddie,
wait,
”
Cash says urgently,
stepping between me and my getaway car.

“
What
are you doing?
”
I
ask, my hands balling into anxious fists.

“
I
’
m
keeping you from running away, that
’
s
what,
”
he says, laying those
strong, steadying hands on my shoulders.

“
Get
out of my way, Cash,
”
I say, gritting my teeth to keep from
crying,
“
Whether
or not I run away is
my
call. Not yours.
”

“
I
know that,
”
he
says fiercely, his eyes fixed on mine,
“
You
have every right to be freaked out about this whole thing. Fuck, you have every
right to be pissed as hell at the way it got sprung on us. I know I am. Our
parents are a couple of selfish assholes. I
’
m
guessing this isn
’
t news to you.
”

“
So
why don
’
t
you leave, too?
”
I ask him, desperate for some answers that
will set this whole thing straight.
“
It
hardly seems like you and John are enjoying your quality time together.
”

“
That
’
s
for damn sure,
”
Cash
laughs roughly, running his hands slowly down my bare arms.
“
I
don
’
t
know why I keep giving in and coming back here at all. He and I are never going
to get along. Trust me, if this was any other Hawthorne family reunion, I
’
d
already be hitting the road. But this isn
’
t
shaping up to be just any family vacation, is it?
”

“
What
are you saying, Cash?
”
I demand, goosebumps springing up along my
skin as his hands trace down my arms.

“
I
guess I
’
m
saying that I want more than one night with you, too,
”
he growls, taking my
hands in his.
“
I
’
m
saying that I don
’
t give a fuck about what
else is going on in this house as long as you
’
re
in it.
”

“
Seriously?
”
I ask, with a nervous
laugh,
“
You
’
re
not the least bit weirded out about the fact that our parents
—
?
”

“
I
stopped caring about what my father says and does a long time ago,
”
Cash cuts me off,
“
He
doesn
’
t
control me anymore, Maddie. My life is my own. So fuck no, I
’
m
not weirded out. And I
’
m not going to let
anything he does stand between me and what I want.
”

“
And
what is it you want now?
”
I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

I
gasp as Cash catches my face in his powerful hands, raising it to his. In
answer, he brings his mouth to mine, kissing me hard in the gathering darkness
of the night. I let my mouth open to his at once, pressing my body to him as I
feel his tongue sweep against mine. We
’
ve
scarcely known each other a day, but my every nerve is already hard-wired to
him. My body comes alive as the taste, the smell, the feel of him envelops me.
I feel myself awakening with an urgency that only he can set off.

“
I
want you to stay, Maddie,
”
he growls, circling my waist with his
thickly muscled arms.
“
I don
’
t
want you to disappear from my life just like that.
”

“
But
Cash
…”
I begin, head swimming as
I peer up at him in the dark.

“
Don
’
t
worry about the rest of them,
”
he tells me fiercely, brushing the blonde
hair out of my face,
“
Just answer me honestly:
Am I someone you want to know for more than a day?
”

“
Of
course you are,
”
I tell him resolutely.

“
Then
don
’
t
go. Not yet,
”
he
says, holding me close as I rest my hands on his firm chest.
“
Stay,
and let me make it worth your while.
”

I
pause, biting my lip. As long as I can remember, I
’
ve
put my family
’
s needs and desires before my own
—
especially
my mother
’
s. My instinct as a daughter is to
get out of her way, let her have this affair with John Hawthorne, even if it
only lasts a couple of weeks. Even if it stands between me and the most
engaging, sexy, fascinating man I
’
ve
met in my life. But she
’
s asked me and my sisters
here for a reason. I know that deep down, she wants to find a way to have a
relationship. And if I
’
m honest, I want that
too. So if I
do
stay, I guess everybody wins
…

“
Come
on,
”
Cash urges, a small smile
lifting the corner of his mouth,
“
Remember
how I followed through with the last promise I made you?
”

The
image of him lowering his mouth to my aching sex comes roaring into my memory.
I
’
m
gonna make you wish for a whole lot more than one night
,
he
’
d
told me, before unleashing a torrent of unimaginably wild pleasure inside of
me. I feel my thighs clench involuntarily just thinking of it, and know in that
moment that I can
’
t deprive myself of this
man just yet.

“
OK,
”
I whisper, circling my
arms around his built shoulders.
“
I
’
ll
stay here with you, Cash. But I
’
m holding you to that
promise.
”

“
You
’
d
better hold on tight, then,
”
he tells me, grin widening.

“
Why?
”
I reply, anticipatory
butterflies careening around my stomach,
“
What
have you got in mind for me?
”

“
You
’
ll
see
…”
he says, grabbing hold of
my hips,
“
You
’
ll
see.
”
I let out a laugh as he
spins me around, gives me a smack on the ass, and says,
“
Now
march, soldier.
”

“
Yes
sir,
”
I reply coyly, relishing
the way his eyes skirt down my body as I walk out in front of him. I let my
hips sway just a little, and hear Cash groan in response.

“
If
you
’
re
not careful, I
’
m gonna have to tackle you right here
on the front lawn,
”
he warns me, catching up,
“
What
would our dear parents think about that?
”

“
Do
me a favor, Cash,
”
I reply with a shudder,
“
As
long as we
’
re here, don
’
t
refer to them as
our
parents, all right? We
’
re
toeing the creepy line enough as it is.
”

“
Fair
enough, Porter
”
he
laughs, scaling the porch steps in two effortlessly long strides,
“
Fair
enough.
”

Chapter Six

Over
the next few days, the underlying tensions among our mixed-family party begin
to die down. Or at least, they dip back beneath the surface for the time being.
Everyone seems able to relax into the spirit of vacation, spending their days
as they wish while giving each other plenty of room. Each of us falls into our
own routine, coming together maybe once a day to check in. The less time we all
spend in the same room, it seems, the better things tend to go.

But
then, it
’
s
not like familial tension is new to either of the present families. The
relationship between us Porter girls and our mother is rightfully strained.
Despite her imaginative and expressive personality, her tendency to be flighty,
absent-minded, and self-absorbed have made her a less than
ideal mother, at times. I know that no one
’
s
perfect, and I don
’
t expect her to be
either. But her shortcomings have stunted her daughters
’
ability to trust and rely
on her, especially when we
’
ve needed it most. I know
I
’
ll
keep trying my entire life to have a relationship with her, but so far, it hasn
’
t
gotten any easier.

What
’
s
interesting, though, is that there seems to be a very similar coldness to the
Hawthorne boys
’
relationships
with John. Luke seems the most determined to keep things civil, but he treats
his dad with more respect than affection. Finn, the youngest, seems to have
pulled an Annabel and fostered a self-sufficiency that makes a relationship
with his dad all but unnecessary. Of all three brothers, Cash seems to be the
one who butts heads with his dad the most fiercely. There
’
s
a bitterness to their fighting that tells of deep, unresolved strife.

But
seeing as Cash Hawthorne isn
’
t exactly a
“
talk
about your feelings
”
kind of guy, I
’
m
pretty in the dark about his family
’
s
past. I don
’
t know anything about the
circumstances of his enlisting in the army, or what
’
s
beneath the rivalry he has with Luke, or even what the story is with his absent
mother. Maybe I
’
ll find out in time,
though I get the feeling that Cash
’
s
emotional side isn
’
t going to be an easy nut
to crack.

Despite
his persuasive promises to make staying here at the lake house worth my while,
Cash plays a very cool game with me as the first week wears on. Though we
seemed to end up alone at every turn that first day, it
’
s
not a pattern that holds. Sure, I see enough of him
—
I
just never quite catch him alone. Around the house, down by the lake, and even
on some excursions into the woods, there
’
s
always someone else keeping us from getting some alone time. He doesn
’
t
seem too perturbed by the constant company
—
I
wonder if he
’
s letting me squirm like this on
purpose? Trying to build up the anticipation or something?

Whatever
the plan is, I hope this phase of it is over soon. I can
’
t
go much longer without another taste of him.

One
afternoon halfway through the week, I find myself lounging on the dock with
Anna and Sophie, catching some much-needed rays. My office-bound body is super
pale, even compared to my similarly fair-skinned sisters. I
’
m
rocking my favorite bikini
—
a red bandeau top with
matching bottoms
—
and have my hair pulled
up into a white bandana, Rosie the Riveter style. Sophie
’
s
wearing a super skimpy black bikini and huge Jackie O sunglasses, her long
caramel hair woven into a mermaid tail braid. Anna
’
s
classic white halter top bathing suit complements her nearly platinum locks,
which hang loose over her freckled shoulders. It
’
s
a rare event indeed that all three Porter sisters are in the same place (and
good spirits) long enough to have a good old fashioned gab session, but that
’
s
exactly what we
’
re up to now.

“
I
give you a lot of credit,
”
I tell Anna, letting my toes dangle in the
cool lake water,
“
I wouldn
’
t
have had the wherewithal to take a gap year before college at your age.
”

“
Well,
you knew what you wanted to go to school for,
”
my little sister shrugs,
lying on her stomach beside me,
“
I
’
m
still feeling it out.
”

“
I
just couldn
’
t wait to get out of the house,
”
Sophie puts in,
“
Don
’
t
get me wrong, I love my program at Sheridan. But more than anything, getting
away from Mom was the priority.
”

“
Yeah,
well. Imagine being the only one in the house with her after Dad died,
”
Anna says with a rare
hint of condemnation.

Sophie
and I exchange an uneasy look. Anna was only sixteen when Dad was killed. With
me away at school already and Sophie on the cusp of leaving, Anna was on her
own with Mom in the aftermath of the accident. As flaky and distant as our Mom
was at the best of times, Anna
’
s experience with her in
the throes of grief was on a whole different level. In a lot of ways, our
youngest sister had to finish raising herself on her own. And it shows, too.
She
’
s
far more mature than Sophie and I were at her age
…
Or
even now, for that matter.

Now
that I think of it, I think that Anna
’
s
even-keeled nature is the trait she most clearly inherited from our dad. Archie
Porter was entirely unflappable, utterly dependable, and straightforward at all
times. He never lied to us, even when we were little girls. I remember him that
way
—
with
his lean, long-limbed body, sandy hair, and horn rimmed glasses
—
laying
his hands on my shoulders and giving it to me straight. I may have gotten his
love of literature and learning, but Annabel absolutely got his insistence on
telling the truth
—
whether or not anyone
wants to hear it.

“
So,
uh
…
have
you given any thought to how you
’
ll
spend the year?
”
I ask Anna, somewhat awkwardly changing
the subject.

“
Mostly
just building up my photography portfolio,
”
she replies, rolling onto
her back on the warm deck boards.
“
I
want to get some more portraits and event photography.
”

“
I
could hire you for the next ReImaged party!
”
I offer enthusiastically.
It
’
s
not often that Anna
’
s world and mine
intersect, and I can
’
t help but leap at the
opportunity.

“
Yeah,
maybe,
”
she replies
noncommittally, puncturing the bubble of my excitement,
“
I
was thinking of heading in a less corporate direction, though. Finn
’
s
letting me tag along to his band
’
s
show tonight to take some shots of them, actually.
”

“
Finn
’
s
in a band?!
”
Sophie
exclaims, sitting bolt upright.

“
Yeah.
He
’
s
the lead vocalist,
”
Anna replies placidly.

“
But
I
’
ve
barely heard a full sentence out of him,
”
I say incredulously. I
can
’
t
deny that I feel a little pang of jealousy that Finn
’
s
work is more interesting to Anna than mine.

“
Yeah.
I didn't realize he spoke in full sentences,
”
Sophie adds.

“
Maybe
that
’
s
because neither of you lets anyone else get a word in. Ever think of that?
”
Anna shoots back, that
hint of heat rising into her usually cool voice once more.

“
Whoa,
Anna
…”
Sophie replies, stung.
“
That
’
s
a little harsh.
”

“
Yeah,
well. The truth can be a bitch,
”
Anna shrugs, pulling herself to her feet.

“
Did
we do something wrong?
”
I ask my little sister as she gathers her
things,
“
You
seem really pissed off at us.
”

Anna
levels her gold-flecked eyes at me, with a frankness that reaches down to the
corners of my soul.

“
I
just wish the two of you would think about someone besides yourselves once in a
while,
”
she says, swinging her
gaze between me and Sophie. She doesn
’
t
sound angry, or even sad
—
just terribly disappointed.
It
’
s
the sort of tone that makes you feel about two inches tall, especially when it
’
s
coming from someone who
’
s supposed to look up to
you.

“
Anna,
what are you talking about?
”
Sophie asks her, looking as wary as I
feel.

“
Come
on,
”
Anna says, shaking her
head,
“
You
can
’
t
play dumb with me, you guys. I know you too well for that.
”

Before
we can utter another word, Anna turns on her heel and marches away. As she
goes, a knot of unease twists in my stomach. What have I done to make her so
upset? Could it be possible that she
’
s
somehow caught wind of what
’
s going on between me and
Cash? She
’
s always been crazy perceptive, and
that would certainly explain her disapproval of me. But then what the hell
could she have on Sophie?

“
Do
you have any idea what she
’
s on about?
”
I ask Sophie, trying to
keep my voice light.

“
Nope,
”
Sophie replies, a little
too quickly.
“
No idea.
”

“
Huh.
You know Anna. Always the sensitive one,
”
I offer, convincing no
one.
“
We
should probably just let her go off and do her own thing. Close quarters do
weird things to people
…”

Sophie
and I fall into an uneasy silence, angling our bodies away from each other. Try
as I might, I can
’
t think of anything
neutral to say to her. We
’
ve already burned through
all our small talk about work and school, and the only thing we seem to have in
common these days is our dysfunctional family.

What
I wouldn
’
t
give to have that closeness the three of us shared as little girls. I remember
being nine years old, with six-year-old Sophie and four-year-old Anna, living
on our sprawling farm in Vermont. We
’
d
roam that land for hours on end, making up games and languages, sharing stories
and secrets. Three tow-headed, rough-and-tumble girls, united in the kind of
love that only sisters can know. God, how I mourn the loss of that closeness.
Though this is the first time in a long while that all three of us Porter
sisters have been in the same place, I
’
ve
never felt further away from them both.