Man Up Stepbrother

by Danielle Sibarium

  Instead of taking that chance, I fucking turned away from it. From my family. From the woman I'm crazy about. I just turned and walked away. I hurt her. Why? Why the fuck did I do that?

  I hold my head in my hands. I let a combination of fear and my ego ruin the best thing that ever happened to me.

  Maybe it's not too late. Maybe I can make things right with her. I listen to the messages. Allie isn't crying, but I hear the emotion in her voice. She's hurt. Seriously hurt. I know I can call and smooth this over. Make things right between us. Until I hear the last message. The one that has me in a full-blown panic.

  The call starts with a few sniffles, then finally I hear her voice. Sad. Broken. Destroyed. I wish I could unhear it, or go back in time and delete it, because this call is going to haunt me for the rest of my life. "Why, Jagger? I thought you cared. You said I mattered, but you lied just like everyone else in my life." Full-out sobs follow. I should've answered. I should've called last night and apologized.

  As if I didn't torture myself enough by listening to the messages, I read through the texts. Most are asking me to talk, to hear her out. Until I get to the last text from Allie. The one with the attachment. I open it and see me standing in the bar with my arm around Shayla while she kisses me on the cheek. What. The. Fuck?

  This looks bad. Really, really bad.

  My heart sinks as I look at the time stamp on this last text and compare it to the time of her last call. They're a minute apart. I expand the picture, ready to rip my brother a new asshole for sending this to Allie. But he didn't. He's standing next to me. He's cut off in the picture, but that means he couldn't have taken it. This picture was shot from in front of us.

  My phone vibrates. Another message. This one from a number I don't recognize.

  Unknown: "You really do get around. More fun for me." Attached is the picture Allie sent me.

  Me: "Thanks for the pic. Did you have fun watching us? We give you a chub?" I can't let on how hot my blood is boiling right now. I need to smoke this fucker out.

  Unknown: Yes, but we got interrupted before we could finish the deed.

  Asshole. My hands clench and ball into fists.

  Me: You going to tell me who you are or are you going to hide behind your phone?

  Unknown: I'm happy to tell you. I'm the person that's going to watch you lose everyone you love, one by one.

  Me: Fuck you.

  Unknown: Thanks, but first I'll have a go at your girlfriend.

  Me: Too ugly to get one of your own. I taunt. If I piss him off enough, he'll slip up, give me some hint who he is.

  Unknown: How'd she like the present I left at her door?

  Me: Loved it. Thanks for the dinner.

  Unknown: Can't wait until we meet again.

  Me: When and where?

  Silence. I wait a few minutes. Nothing. And more nothing. There's nothing going on but fucking silence. I'm ready to rip someone a new asshole.

  I hear Troy calling my name. "Jagger, get your ass in here. Now!"

  I rush into the living room, sensing something is wrong. He and Marlena are staring at the television, watching the news. My brother's face is gray. He looks like he just came toe to toe with the Grim Reaper. Troy points to the screen.

  "The girl. From last night."

  "Really? Allie's home crying her eyes out and you're out hooking up with another woman?" Marlena accuses. "And you didn't try to stop him?" She turns to Troy and slaps his chest.

  "Marlena," Troy answers. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

  The image of Shayla's face, swollen and bruised, flashes across the screen.

  "It was an attempted rape." Troy explains. "Someone attacked her in the parking lot after closing. Luckily the owner forgot something and came back. He scared the guy off."

  I collapse onto the couch and hold my head. My mind springs back to the texts that just came in. He did it. He attacked Shayla. Motherfucker. I was wrong the whole time. Allie was right. It wasn't Bailey or his girlfriend. The tires were a coincidence. The rest of it had nothing to do with Allie. This sick fuck is after me. He's looking to rip my heart out and serve it to me for dinner.

  "Did they get him?" I don't know why I ask. I already know the answer. If they got him, I wouldn't have just been texting with the fucker.

  "No. The guy ran off. All they know is that he's a white male of medium build. Late twenties, early thirties. Brown eyes.

  "Call Allie," I order.

  "You don't think..."

  "Call her. Now. I just need to know that she's okay."

  "Jagger, trust me, you need to call. She wants to talk to you."

  "I can't," I shout. "He's after me. I can't call her, I can't go anywhere near Allie. I need to get the fuck out of here and away from all of you."

  "You're being ridiculous."

  I shove my phone at my brother. "Look at the picture he sent me. He sent it to Allie too. And read these messages."

  Troy looks at me in disbelief.

  "You need to get the police involved."

  "They already are. Did they find out who hit her car? No."

  "But you have a phone number now. They can trace it."

  "You really think he's an idiot? It's a throw away or pay as you go. Or a stolen fucking phone. There's no way it can be traced back to him. Besides, it doesn't prove he's the one that attacked Shayla."

  "You don't know that for sure. Maybe he's so screwed up he didn't think of those things."

  "I know, Troy. He thought of it. Same way as he thought of how to crash into Allie and not get caught. it wasn't his car. It was stolen." I take a deep breath. "Maybe if I leave, if I get the fuck out of here, I can lead him away from all of you and drag him out into the open. But first I need to know that Allie's okay. Please."

  My brother stares at me long and hard. "I meant what I said last night. I like having you here."

  "Then help me so I can make sure it's safe for me to be here. If not, you're all fair game. Mom. Allie. You." I pause before saying her name. I know once I do, my brother will let me go and do anything I ask to help me leave. "Even Mia."

  At the mention of his daughter, Troy breaks. "Fine," he says, his eyes welling up. "Just please take care of yourself."

  *

  "You're a fucking scumbag!" Troy yells as he throws my bag out the door. "I want you out of my house and out my life."

  I yell some shit back about how he's always been a sucky brother and I hope to never see him again. He knows I don't mean it. At least I hope to hell he knows. The irony of the whole situation is that I never felt like I belonged anywhere, least of all here. Until now. And now that I'm longing to stay, I'm hightailing it out of town to keep the people I love safe.

  Luckily I don't have much. Only my wallet, some clothes, and my Glock.

  Troy lent me all the cash he had at home along with some fresh clothing while Marlena stuffed drinks and sandwiches in my bag so I don't have to stop. I convinced my brother to take a few days off of work to spend with his family in a very public, very crowded family resort area. They'll go one way, and I'll go the other.

  We said our real goodbyes in Mia's bathroom. There are no windows in there, no chance of anyone seeing more than our staged goodbye. It took every ounce of strength I had to walk out of that room and the love surrounding me in it.

  Troy promised he'll keep tabs on Allie for me. I thought about picking her up and taking her with me, but that would leave the rest of my family as targets. I wish I could apologize to her and let her in on what's going on. I'd do anything to ease her pain. But it's not an option. Knowing puts her at risk. If anyone is watching her, she needs to be convincing in the role of the heartbroken ex. It's the only chance I have of leading this psycho away from her.

  For now, I have to trust this is the right move and that Ox has his best man watching her. But the farther I drive away from home, the emptier I feel. God, I hope this works, because if it doesn't...if he somehow hurts Allie, I'll have lost
everything. I'll have nothing left to live for. I crank up the radio and step on the gas. I need to make it to Ox's cabin in Pennsylvania fast so we can reconvene and figure out our next move.

  Chapter 20

  Allie

  I lie in bed in the dark with my eyes closed, but I can't sleep. Five days passed since I last saw Jagger. Surprisingly, this hurts far more than finding out Bailey knocked up that bitch. Maybe that's because I already knew deep down Bailey and I were through. I'd known it for a long time.

  But Jagger...sharp pain shoots through my chest at the thought of him. I didn't allow myself to see it, to believe it, until he turned his back on me, but we had the promise of a life together. A life with love and passion, and everything I always wanted. And then it all changed on a dime.

  Still, I'm holding on, holding out, waiting for him to come back. I waffle between believing it's over and that I'll never see him again to feeling confident he won't be able to stay away and we can get through this.

  But that look in his eyes.

  I shiver when I remember him staring at me with that cold, empty look. The look that tells me I destroyed us. I destroyed him. A tear rolls down my cheek. That can't be. It's just not possible.

  I should be the one that's angry, the one holding a grudge. He overreacted. He didn't hear me out. He wouldn't listen to reason. Still, I owe him. When I shut him out, when I gave him the cold shoulder because I jumped to conclusions about him and Lexi, Jagger never gave up on me. I won't give up on him.

  Where the hell is he? And why haven't I heard from him? How can he just disappear? I went to his apartment two days ago, but there was no sign of him. No truck, no lights on inside. Nothing.

  A tear rolls off my cheek onto my pillow. I rarely ever cried before. But in the last five months, my pillow has been soaked in a lifetime's worth of tears. I hate that I'm crying, that I allowed him in enough to hurt me. But he wore me down, and I loved every minute of it.

  Until the end.

  I still wouldn't do anything different. I wouldn't change anything except Bailey showing up. How could he think I'd choose Bailey over him?

  My phone rings. I jump to answer it, hoping it's him. It's not. It never is.

  "Hey, Marlena."

  "Were you crying?"

  I sniffle. "No. Just trying to catch up on some much-needed sleep."

  "Sweetie, it's only ten o'clock. I'm sorry."

  She doesn't mean it though. Even though Troy swept them away on a surprise vacation to one of those indoor water parks, Marlena calls twice a day every day to check in and ask if I've heard from Jagger. I haven't. Each time she asks, I feel the scab on my broken heart being ripped off and the bleeding starts again.

  "He'll call. Don't lose faith," she tells me, but faith is one of those things I'm running low on. My tank is down to fumes.

  Even Lexi insists it's not over. After I hang up with Marlena, I turn to my best friend.

  "Jagger is a big baby. He needs some time and space to miss you. Once he realizes he's the one acting like an ass, he'll come crawling back to you. And when he does, I'll tell him where he can go."

  "Get in line." After a moment of uncomfortable silence, I decide to turn down a dark road. A road so sick and twisted, once I make this turn, I might not be able to come back from it.

  "Lexi, Marlena said the guys had a huge blowout before Jagger left. And there's that picture of him and the waitress. God, it makes me sick every time I look at it."

  "Stop. All you’re doing is torturing yourself."

  "I'm not trying to. But, do you think..." I close my eyes. "Do you think Jagger..."

  "Troy was with him the entire time, and then Jagger spent the night at his brother’s."

  "So you don't think there's any chance..." I swallow hard. I can't believe I'm actually asking this. But he seemed so cold, so different when he left me. He was like a total stranger and I'm not sure what he was capable of. "You don't think that Jagger could be the one that attacked her?"

  There's a long breath, followed by a moment of silence on the other end that tells me I hit a nerve.

  "Jagger took care of you. He looked out for you like no one in your life ever did. Is this really what you think of him?" I hear the disappointment, the disgust in her voice, and I know it's directed toward me. Way to make myself feel more like shit.

  "No." The tears start again. "Of course not. But the way he left here, it scared me. He's been gone ever since. I mean no one has heard from him. Not Troy, not his mother. What am I supposed to think? It's not like I have the best track record where guys are concerned. I mean look at Bailey. And then I know Jagger had a huge blowout with his brother."

  "Jagger's not Bailey. I told you, he's a good guy. And he and Troy fought over you. Over the fact that Jagger walked out on you."

  I hang up the phone, feeling lower than spit on the ground. Guilt eats away at me for even considering he could be the one who hurt her. I think of Jagger's touch, how loving and gentle he is. How sparks light and explode any time his hands touch me. I remember our first kiss. I had to practically beg him for it. How could I even think he'd hurt someone like that?

  I promised Jagger I'd wait for him. Of course that was before Bailey showed up out of the blue, and before I got this heart-wrenching picture of Jagger with another woman. The irony is when Bailey cheated, I knew it in my heart even though I couldn't prove it. Here I have all I need to prove that Jagger moved on and somehow, I still think there may be a chance for us. I squeeze my eyes shut. I have to hold on to the promise I made to Jagger. At least for right now.

  *

  "I'm so sorry, Allie." Beverly wraps her arms around my shoulders as I pour cereal into a bowl.

  "Don't be. You didn't know. We should've said something sooner."

  "You still haven't heard from him?"

  "No." The word burns coming out of my mouth. "You?"

  She shakes her head and looks away. "No, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

  I nod and move to the table for breakfast. I just want to know that he's okay. I stopped trying to call or text him days ago. Why bother if he's not going to answer or call me back?

  "I hope we didn't cause too much trouble for you and Dad."

  "Of course not," Beverly reaches out and smoothes my hair from behind me. "Why would you think that?"

  "Because he still won't talk to me," my voice cracks but I don't cry. "He won't even look at me."

  "That's because I hate seeing you in this much pain and knowing I can't do a damn thing to make it better," Dad says, standing in the doorway. "I want you to be happy. And right now, I see pain in your eyes every time I look at you. At it makes me angry at both you and Jagger. It didn't have to be this way. You could've been honest about what was going on."

  "We made a mistake."

  "And now you're both hurting, and all Beverly and I can do is sit back and watch it all play out."

  I nod, waiting for him to continue. Waiting for him to lace into Jagger for being a shit and hurting me, or to tear me a new one for getting involved with Jagger in the first place. He doesn't, and I'm not sure if I'm relieved or if it adds to my guilt.

  "By the way, I'll be home late tonight. Since my professional life is finally looking up and I haven't done much this week, I need to make up for lost time. I'll be working with Carmine Salvatore most of the afternoon, and then I have a new client lined up at the end of the day."

  *

  I spend most of my day at the bed and breakfast with yards of material for the window treatments. Carmine and I agreed to leave the room darkening blinds in place, but they need to be spruced up and placed in the background.

  I start by adding double curtain rods with fancy end knobs. Solid swatches of beige curtains hang from the bottom rod, while I top them with rich colorful patterns draped in a scarf style off the top rod.

  It doesn't sound like much, but I've spent hours working on them, making sure there is a consistency moving from room to room while at the same time giving them
each their own personality. I'm satisfied with how the windows look, and best of all, so is Carmine.

  This project occupied most of my day and kept my mind off of missing Jagger. At least for short bouts of time. I check my email before leaving, hoping to find conformation from the new potential client I'm supposed to meet with next.

  There it is. We're on. When I get to the end of the email, my heart stutters. It reaches back and flips, doing a double layout on the way down. My lips curl up into a smile.

  Make sure you thank Jagger for the recommendation.

  My body tingles thinking of Jagger. This is a sign. His anger is thawing. I can't help myself. I check for a missed call or text from him. There's nothing. I plug the address into my GPS, turn the radio up, and head for the highway.

  I know I shouldn't be checking my phone while I'm driving, but I can't resist. He's going to call me. I can feel it. Once I get off the highway, I check how much longer before I arrive at my destination. I'm four minutes away. I'm not strong enough to hold back any longer. I pull his number up and press send.

  The call goes straight to voicemail. Disappointment slices my hope to shreds. The pain is sharper, deeper than it was days ago because I thought the freeze out was over. I expected him to answer.

  "Jagger," I say after the beep. I even miss saying his name. "I just want to thank you. I thought you might be ready to talk since you had your friend contact me." I'm about to hang up when I change my mind. "At least I got to hear the sound of your voice. I miss you like crazy." My voice drops, "Please call me back. I just want to know that you’re all right."

  I hang up the phone as I turn down a long winding road. I passed a number of farms on the way here, but not much else. I've only seen two other cars since I turned off the highway. I'm surprised by how off the beaten path this is.

  A funny feeling swirls around my stomach. I'm nervous, uptight. I shouldn't have called Jagger until my work day was done. I need to keep my head on straight, get my nerves under control, and get through this. I'm good at what I do. I can bury my personal shit and act confident for the next hour. That's all this should take, one hour. Then I can go home and get back to wallowing in self-pity.