by Eden O'Neill
I watched him, Jax’s head going down as he continued to push the mower. His biceps shifted, his broad shoulders and abs working over every bump and rocky surface in the yard.
Dad flicked the blinds, and he gratefully cut me off from the sight of my stepbrother.
My stepbrother I slept with. I dragged my eyes up. “Dad—”
“He called me that too,” he said, staring at the blinds though they were closed. He rubbed his mouth. “I just… I never thought he would. At least, not so soon. Not again.”
Not again…
Dad’s lashes flickered in my direction, emotion in his eyes I’d definitely heard in his voice. Use of the title had made him emotional, a word I used for him every day.
A word I took for granted.
As far as I knew, Jaxen had no father. He had two mothers, his mom remarrying. I didn’t know his moms, but I was sure he felt complete fulfillment in his life. But still, the chance to reconnect with your father…
Perhaps, he did just hate me. Perhaps, he really did want to know Rick, his dad.
I came out of my stupor when my adoptive father held my hand, squeezing. He would technically always be that. He’d been around for me, but we’d never have what he and Jax had. Jaxen was his, completely.
Dad smiled. “I’m so happy for you and your mom. That you were open to this, welcoming him.” Dad passed a look over to the closed blinds. “He’s had it rough and… I know he’s suffered. He had to because I wasn’t there.”
But why wasn’t he? It didn’t make sense. Rick Fairchild just wasn’t the type to not be there.
I knew because he was for me.
“He didn’t even keep my last name after the divorce,” he said, making my chest squeeze. “I guess I don’t blame him. I wasn’t there.”
Something had to have been really bad, something maybe my mom knew about but not me during that time period in question. It hadn’t been my business. I had always been the kid, the child, and it wasn’t my place. I’d just selfishly taken Rick for my own.
“You’re happy he’s here?” I asked, knowing the answer. I shook my head. “I mean, of course you are. It’s… it’s so good.”
“It is.” He held my shoulders. “And I appreciate you so much. For being there. Driving him tomorrow to school.” He chuckled. “I guess you’ll really get to know each other soon. Makes me so happy.”
It truly did, didn’t it?
“Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?” He leaned in. “Again, honey. If it’s women’s worries—”
“It’s nothing.” I laughed, forcing myself to smile through my emotion. I had to, physically unable to break this man’s heart. I shook my head. “I just wanted to say I’m looking forward to getting to know him.”
He squeezed my arm, the grin overtaking his entire face. It was in that moment I knew something deeply. I literally could do nothing about this situation, my stepbrother being here. I couldn’t hurt this man.
Even if his biological son truly was a monster.
Chapter Six
Cleo
A sleep-deprived body greeted me the next day, not looking forward at all for the drive I had to take with my stepbrother in tow. It’d be a quick one, only an hour or so to campus, but with Jaxen so close in the front seat…
He’d literally stared me down last night at dinner, pinned me in place with a shared understanding between us. It was a look that he had all the cards.
It was a look that he could destroy me.
He could, this entire family dynamic, with our secret hookup, but for now, at least last night, he’d kept our drama to the cuff. He’d been the perfect son, chatting with both Dad and Mom and appearing to have a good time doing it. He seemed to really want to be here, even with me.
That’s what scared me the most.
He was so good at the show, the life of the party. He had jokes for days, smiles. At one point, he even showed my parents the latest dance craze on TikTok, showing them his feed before giving an example of himself in the dining room. It’d been a riot.
For everyone but me.
I’d tugged my comforter close that night, needed it close and that security, but every time I did, I smelled him. Drew in his harsh heat and undying warmth. It’d felt so good to be in his arms just last night, but sickened me now.
He did sicken me. With every one of his smiles. His jokes. I kept trying to figure out if he was the real deal.
Or simply playing us all.
I couldn’t blow any of this out of the water, though, threading my fingers at dinner. I chimed in when I was needed to, but for the most part, I gauged my time playing with my hair or staring at the clock. When it was acceptable, I went to bed, and this morning, I skipped breakfast entirely. Eventually, Mom walked it up to my room, and when she found me in my closet packing up the last of my stuff for school, she hadn’t given me a hard time. She figured that’s what I’d been doing all morning. Packing.
Not suffering in silence.
My gas tank was full when I got out to my car, not surprising since I found my parents there too. Dad had packed all the stuff I’d brought to the door earlier, and now, they held each other, waiting for me. This was a routine with us. They always came home, no matter where they were on the globe, to see me off, and we almost always did it early. I liked to get to school before the hallways of my dorm started to crowd, and they had a busy day of activities as per usual. The time generally just worked out for us both, so that’s what we did.
Currently, Dad wore loose-fitting pants and Mom, Lycra leggings and a sports top. They were perfect outfits for playing singles at the country club, which they liked to do whenever they were in town.
I got a big hug between them both when I got out to my station wagon. The old 1970s vehicle was my baby and exactly what I’d asked for when my parents said they’d give me a car for high school graduation. It was a classic, completely restored and shined like it just drove off the lot. It was also my thing and matched my personality. I tended to go for vintage flare, wearing secondhand boots, high-waisted shorts and a top tied at my tummy for move-in day.
“You got everything, baby?” Mom asked, holding me out. “If not, we can always send someone out to get something to you.”
My parents were busy, my dad very important, and even though I had the nannies and caretakers growing up, not once did I feel swept under the rug. Not once did I feel like I was a bother or not loved. They always took care of me, in their special ways, but they always did. I loved them an awful lot for it, and with the separation, I was very independent. There wasn’t a thing that came at me that I couldn’t handle myself.
At least, generally.
My stepbrother was absent from this party, but hell, if I was going to ask about him. I didn’t even want to see him and would have enough of him on the road. I knew he and Dad went out late afternoon yesterday to get his things. I guessed he’d dropped all his stuff off at a hotel when he’d arrived, intending to stay there. Well, when Dad had heard that they’d immediately left to go get his stuff. I’d seen them leave, and when they returned, they came back with a big rolling bag.
Currently, said bag was being dragged outside the house, my stepbrother with a fist on it. He lifted a hand from the front door, and Dad left, going to him.
And hell, if Jaxen couldn’t stop looking gorgeous.
I really hated my eyes. Because every time I looked at him, I noticed all these little things. Like how the wind perfectly captured and tousled his hair, more curly than feathered.
I didn’t want to notice his hair or how his eyes captured the sun in the light. I didn’t want to know how he truly looked like a Hemsworth in all the shirts he strained or the jeans he filled out. Currently, his behemoth thighs hugged a pair of low-rider jeans, sagging perfectly below his tapered waist. He wore a polo, the collar popped and the material hitting his big honking shoulders. I saw every ounce of him, every muscled and perfect inch. I was well aware of what he looked like naked.
And that definitely didn’t help.
Dad got to him, and of course, he helped him with his bag. Mom hugged me, and though I told her I didn’t need anything, answering her previous question, her gaze had been on anything but me. She watched my dad and Jaxen, the pair of them chatting as they headed from the house to the street with us.
Mom pulled me close. “Your dad’s just shining, isn’t he?” she said, so happy too. They both were.
Everyone but me.
“I’m so happy for him,” she continued nodding, then looked at me. “You’ll take good care of your stepbrother, won’t you?”
My stepbrother.
I wanted to gag where I stood, but I told her I would. Of course, I would. I’d do it for Dad. He was happy. I knew that.
Even still, I couldn’t stop the nausea. Especially when Jaxen made it into my airspace. I caught a whiff of him, and he was only at the back of the car, Dad helping him load his bag. The distinct smells of tea tree and various spices, a bodywash or an aftershave, and I remembered it well.
I’d bathed in it when he’d fucked me.
Unable to even get close, I stayed on my side of the car. Dad and Jaxen exchanged a few words at the back, and whatever they were caused Dad to smile. Immediately, Dad reached for him, a hug. They’d done that when Jaxen arrived so I hadn’t been surprised.
But Jaxen hadn’t cringed the first time.
Just a glimmer of it, a clear and visual shift of his features. It’d been like he was pained with the touch, but just as quickly, he schooled his features. The hug had been brief, but right after, Jaxen was putting on the aviator shades he had clipped to his shirt. Suddenly, those green eyes were gone and any evidence of what I’d seen wiped away.
But I’d definitely seen it.
I didn’t know what to make of that, but said nothing, my mom giving me a hug, then my dad. Dad let go. “Safe trip then. Okay, sweetheart?”
I nodded, noticing Jaxen head to the other side of the car. He kept distance, placing his thick arms on the top. He smiled. “I can drive too if you wanna relax, Cleo. I don’t mind.”
He kept doing that, offering things either to me or anyone else there to listen. I obviously didn’t trust him and no way in hell would he be driving my baby.
“I’m good,” I said, schooling my features. I faced my dad. “And we’ll be safe.”
“How I’ll miss you, baby.” Another hug from Mom. Letting go, she lifted a hand to Jax. “And it was so nice meeting you, Jaxen.”
“Likewise, Mrs. Fairchild,” he said, nothing but a cool smile on his lips. He hiked it higher. “And Cleo and I will be perfectly safe. I’ll look out for her.”
I was sure he would…
The bastard.
He really had me turning into someone I wasn’t, thinking so negatively. I just kept getting the feeling like he was waiting, absolutely simmering to do something and cause chaos. He had ample opportunity to during our drive, and I hoped he wouldn’t try something since I’d be driving a two-ton vehicle with him in the passenger seat. This could be wishful thinking, of course, but the hope was all I had.
It really was.
This was my reality, and I had to get used to the fact that I had an insane person for a stepbrother. Dad opened the car for me, and after getting in, I gave him another hug through the window.
“Thank you again,” he said before giving me a kiss atop the head. He pulled back. “And let me know if you need anything, all right?”
“Okay.”
“And you too, son,” Dad said, Jaxen getting in the car too. His huge form filled up the whole right side, and I was choking on his scent by the time he closed the door. He smelled like boy, male.
God.
Jax hunkered to see Dad. “Will do. I promise you won’t have to worry about me.”
God, he really was good at that. Putting on the charm and probably just as good at something else.
That something being breaking promises.
*
“Think we can change the station to something a little more, um, secular?” Jax stated on the road.
I’d been driving all of five minutes.
On the highway, the wind cut through Jax’s hair, sending those tousled locks flying. Cinnamon spice and his male essence flew through the wind every second we traveled, my windows down, and I grumbled.
“It’s not Christian music,” I stated, knowing he was making fun of my music now like he’d done my bike. Was nothing safe from this guy? I sat up. “It’s folk.”
A slow eyebrow lifted. “Okay, well. I’m changing it.”
The music switched to hip-hop before I could protest, and after, Jax stretched that large body of his back into my seat. He tucked his hands under his arms. The aviators still covered his eyes, but I was still well aware of the fact that he circulated that gaze of his around my ride. His head angled up. “And what the fuck is this car?”
And now, he was going for my baby. My jaw shifted. “What of it?”
“What of it?” Sitting up, he flicked my fuzzy dice. “Will this bucket of bolts actually make it to campus? The last time I’ve seen one of these was in The Brady Bunch.”
Since that was one of my favorite shows, I said nothing, then got nothing but his arrogant smirk. He dropped an arm on the dash, looking at me. “What’s your deal?”
“Deal?”
A nod before he was flashing me those stunning greens. They literally looped his pupils like druzy quartz when he popped his aviators into his hair. “The whole perfect politician’s daughter bullshit. Between you and your mother, I swear to God I’m choking on that shit. You both for real with that?”
Stiffening, I rubbed my hands on the wheel, my heart beating its drum in my entire chest. I had no idea if he was speaking to me this way because he truly wondered or he was just mean.
Something told me it was the latter.
My stepbrother obviously wanted to test me, but I wouldn’t let him speak that way about my mom. He’d also called her a whore before, which continued to travel along the line of this guy and his psychoticism.
“Don’t say that about my mom,” I said, leveling my voice. It was all I could do not to lash out at him or drive us off the road. “We’re not perfect, and I’m definitely not.”
I wished I was. Because if I did, my life would be completely different right now. For starters, I wouldn’t have him in my life.
But I guessed, I wouldn’t have Rick Fairchild either.
Life was a toss up, wasn’t it? A cruel game of give and take. Had I been perfect, I wouldn’t have my adoptive father.
I guess basically over me and my response Jaxen crossed his aviators back over his eyes. He no longer stared at me, as he tossed his head back and bumped it to hip-hop. But considering we had at least an hour drive and maybe even an interaction or two when we did get to school, I wanted to squash this. I didn’t want to be his friend.
But I didn’t have to be his enemy either.
“Can we talk?” I asked, braving myself. I gripped the wheel. “About the other day.”
“What about it?” The guy hadn’t even looked at me, head back like he was going to sleep.
I huffed. “Look. We obviously didn’t get off to the right start.”
A slow smile lifted. “Oh, I got off just fine, Girl Scout,” he paused, tilting his face toward me. “And last I checked, you did too.”
A heart race, a slam as it worked its way up into my throat. That was what I was talking about, exactly what I was talking about. He was Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Sickeningly sweet to my family, doing chores and crap, then the next thing I knew, verbally assaulting me. Not to mention, how he’d physically attacked me, forcing me off my bike and…
Making love to me.
It’d been so nice when he’d been that way. When he’d been Brett and so sweet.
It was all a lie, Cleo. A lie.
“I don’t know what I did to you.” Silence on his end. I swallowed. “And we don’t have to b
e friends, but we can get along. At least, for my dad.”
“Your dad,” he mocked me, his voice cold. “You want us to get along for your dad.”
So much spite in his voice when he said that. I shook my head. “Our dad then.”
A laugh, Joker-esque. He was like Deadpool, charming, dashing even, yet lethal. That was what made him so scary. How inviting his personality could be when he put on the show, only to find out he had a blade behind his back.
One aimed straight for the heart.
At least, for mine, and shifting, he gave me his eyes again when he pushed his sunglasses up. Such beauty, such hypnotic darkness. He was the Pied Piper in denim jeans with rock hard abs.
“You wanna know why we can’t be friends?” he asked, his eyes actually twinkling at me. He lifted a hand. “Why we can’t just get along and be perfect stepsiblings for our perfect parents?”
So he really didn’t like them… he’d said it. Right there, he’d said it, sarcasm completely dripping from his voice. He was putting on a show.
A more than dark one.
A curled finger and he was brushing my chin, dragging it down my chest.
“Jaxen…”
My breath trembled as he tucked his finger between my breasts, uncurling and tracing the swell. It took all I had to keep us straight on the road, my swallow hard.
He smiled.
“Because of that,” he said, pulling my top slightly away. His rough digit against my skin caused my back to rise, my breath to intake. He grinned. “Because of this. Because of what I do to you.”
He pulled his finger out, actually tasting it. He wet his two fingers, then his digits went right for my top again.
“Stop…”
But a moan as he pinched my nipple through my shirt and bra. I was only wearing a bralette so I felt everything. It was like he knew, my chest trembling.
“We fucked, Girl Scout,” he said, an actual growl in his voice. His dark chuckle followed. “And you want to do it again.”
“I don’t,” I bit, but my body betrayed me. My breast trembling in his hand. He massaged the whole thing at this point, my foot accelerating the wheel. We weren’t on the highway yet, but had we been, we’d have crashed into the fast lane. “Get your hands of me.”