The Sterling Boys (The Sterling Shore Series #3)

by C. M. Owens

  "It's nothing, Dane. I'm sorry. I shouldn't even be here. We weren't ever really friends. The point was to try and mend things between the two of you, and things seem to be going great. I'm happy about that. Really, I am."

  The sadness in her eyes doesn't match her words. I believe she's happy about Rain and me, but there's something wrong.

  "Tria." Rain's voice surprises us both.

  I turn to see the girl of my dreams wearing nothing but my T-shirt, and I have to shift to make room for the growth in my shorts. She very slowly makes her way farther from me, but I don't want that to happen.

  Without any reservations, I make my way to her and lean down, pressing my lips to hers and catching her off guard. She doesn't fight me, and she melts in my arms. Rain is mine, and it's official.

  "I should go. Thanks for letting me crash," Tria says softly in an effort to retreat.

  She tries to escape as Rain walks toward the coffee. I promised to help Tria mend fences with her sister, and I actually want to do that. I've just been distracted with my own Rain issues.

  "Hey, do you think you could come to dinner Friday?" I ask.

  She looks from me to Rain's back several times, but Rain doesn't turn around. I can see the defeat in Tria's eyes, and I know she's about to decline, but her phone buzzes in her hand, pausing her answer. Her eyes get wide, and the sound from a video message echoes through the house.

  Someone's yelling, but it's all muffled and distorted. Tria is pale, shaking her head as she looks up to Rain. Blonde-haired sisters stare at each other, one looking confused and the other seeming sick.

  "Mom's throwing Dad out," Tria says at last. "We should probably—"

  "I'll drive you both over there," I interrupt, inwardly cursing Edward.

  That son of a bitch has done something terrible to make Eleanor mad enough to kick him out. I should kill him for his timing.

  ***

  RAIN

  Living in denial is apparently not working out for my stepmother right now, considering the quiet, impassive, reserved woman is making the biggest, craziest, wildest scene this part of Sterling Shore has ever seen. In nothing but a pink silk gown and a matching robe, Eleanor is wreaking havoc like the Tasmanian devil.

  It'd be comical, if it wasn't my family. Being that it is, well, it's just a little embarrassing.

  When Tria got the video message from one of our neighbors, I hurriedly dressed and we raced over here. I'm not even wearing a bra right now, since Dane really did rip it off me. It wasn't salvageable. Tria and I are standing out here in the dresses we wore last night, looking as though we are taking a walk of shame, but that's the least of our concerns. The main focus points are the two lunatics we're related to.

  Edward is pleading with Eleanor to stop, but every time she gets her hands on something, she sends it flying toward his head. Reality TV would kill for this show.

  Dane is doing his damnedest not to laugh, but every so often a snicker sneaks free. Usually it's when my bastard father catches a well-deserved shot to his head. Eleanor has impressive aim.

  "Eleanor, please, honey, don't!" he yells, but she does.

  She smashes the window of his BMW with a cast iron skillet on her third swing. That's one severely pissed woman. I've researched bashing windows—for my books, of course—and it's not easy. My hands took a harsher beating than the actual windows because every tool I had vibrated viciously in my grip after each unsuccessful strike.

  But Eleanor... that woman is a badass on a mission.

  Tria's face is barely showing through the cracks of her fingers as she shields her embarrassment with her hands. I'm sure this is less entertaining to her. Personally, I hope Eleanor beats the hell out of the bastard.

  He's cheated on her with every woman that would give him the slightest bit of attention, so I have no idea why she's just now losing it. I would have chopped his balls off the first time I caught him bed hopping.

  "Call me honey again, Edward. I dare you," Eleanor hisses.

  My respect level for her just shot through the roof. Please, God, let her scalp the prick.

  "Should we attempt to break them up?" Tria asks timidly, nervously glancing around at all the ritzy neighbors who aren't even bothering to hide their amusement.

  People are actually sitting on their front porches, casually sipping their morning coffee and watching as though this is a paid-for event. They'll be jealous of my backstage passes.

  "Probably," I mutter dryly.

  Neither of us move. Instead, we watch Eleanor storm into the house as Edward mourns his bashed-to-hell BMW. He had that custom made last year. I don't see what's so special about it, but guys and cars have always confounded me.

  "You don't have to stick around for this," I grumble, glancing up at Dane apologetically.

  Eleanor comes running back out with a stack of dishes in her hands. Like Frisbees, those suckers go flying across the yard, aimed straight at Edward. Dane's laughter roars out as Edward is forced to duck and dodge, but he doesn't escape three of them. One slaps him in the knee, which causes a stumble that leads to him falling and stilling long enough for Eleanor to hit him with two more. One actually catches him in the face, busting his nose and causing a gushing flow of red.

  "Baby, you couldn't drag me away from this," Dane says with his entertained grin.

  I stifle a smile as Tria snorts out a laugh. Why is she finding humor in this? She adores Edward. After all, she's Daddy's girl.

  This is the worst possible time for this.

  I finally get Dane. I had an entire speech planned for this morning.

  Step one was to ask him about that damn letter. I want to know why he never came for me, or even mentioned it. And was last night real? Are we really a couple, or was he drunk enough to play with my heart?

  Instead of having the answers I need, I've got a bleeding father on the front lawn of a twelve-thousand square-foot home; a stepmother who has lost the path to sanity; and a sister who was comfortable enough to spend the night at Dane's. That's another thing we'll be discussing.

  If he's serious about us being together, Tria has to go. If he was drunk and didn't mean any of that... I'll be borrowing some of those plates from Eleanor.

  "I can't believe no one has called the cops," Tria groans.

  People have been waiting on this for years. They wouldn't dare deny Eleanor this moment of madness. She deserves to beat the unholy hell out of the douche.

  Edward cries out when he catches another shot to the gut. This time, Eleanor has thrown one of his heavy boots at him.

  Suits, shirts, pants... every form of men's clothing is on the lawn, covering up the synthetic sod almost completely. The ocean is within view, but the beach is at least a half-mile hike. This is normally a very quiet, respectable neighborhood. Right now... It's like the Real Housewives uncut version.

  "Get the hell out of my house, you sick son of a bitch! And don't you dare come back."

  She walks close to him as he barely makes it to his feet, and almost as quickly, he's falling back down to the ground, cupping his balls as Eleanor brings her knee back down from the air. I'm so proud of her right now.

  Dane hisses air through his teeth and reflexively covers his own groin, and I earn a few brow raises when I applaud Eleanor's finale.

  She stalks away, and the front door slams hard enough to rattle the glass around it. Dane chuckles lightly as Edward makes it up onto his knees, rocking back and forth as though he's close to vomiting. I'm tempted to go kick him while he's down—literally—but I decide against it.

  He looks up at us and releases a harsh breath, and then his eyes roam around the very curious neighborhood that he has woken up to watch the craziness. After a long few minutes of collective, awkward, and judgmental silence, the snake slithers into his smashed up car and drives away, never uttering a word to explain himself.

  "Dane, you can go. Tria and I probably need to go check on Eleanor and find out what the asshole did."

  He fr
owns as he laces his fingers with mine. "I'd rather stay. She might need something, and I can be the fetch-it boy while you all talk."

  Now's not the time to be grinning and openly falling putty to him, but he makes it impossible not to. Eleanor. First I have to concentrate on Eleanor.

  We make it to the house, and Dane's hand never leaves mine. Tria pushes through the door, eyeing the path of destruction in front of us. And I thought Dane and I made a mess.

  The house looks like a tornado breezed through. Even the walls have cracks, as though the battle started in here and ended up on the lawn. Lamps are broken, light fixtures are barely hanging on, and rugs are crumpled and left in disarray.

  Laughter finds us—loud, delirious, hysterical laughter, and Tria and I exchange a look of concern. Eleanor has seriously lost it.

  We follow the sound to the den, which is just as wrecked as the rest of the house. The coffee table is broken in two, which is curious, since that wood is hella thick. And three of the giant floor-to-ceiling windows have been shattered, probably from where Eleanor threw things through them.

  Poor Eleanor is sitting on a couch and laughing crazily while ripping up pictures, tossing the shards to the ground like confetti.

  "Mom," Tria says cautiously, approaching her mother like she's a rabid animal.

  Eleanor looks up from her task, but only long enough to see us. She shakes her head while resuming her task, her laughter not easing even a little. Her hair looks as though she hasn't brushed it in days, and her eyes have bags under them, painting her years of sleep deprivation with their black circles.

  "That bastard won't have a damn cent when I'm done with him," she says through her cackles. "I made him. I can ruin him!"

  She laughs harder, and I look up to Dane, possibly seeking his help. I'm not sure if I want his help or his protection, to be honest. The Mad Hatter has pulled a body switch with Eleanor.

  "Mom, what happened? What'd he do?" Tria asks softly, still afraid to get too close.

  I start to worry that Eleanor is going to hyperventilate when her giggles become almost painful. If you've ever witnessed someone laughing, you kind of can't help but laugh, too, even if you don't know what's so damn funny. So I laugh, as does Dane.

  Tria works really hard not to, but she can't help it. Eleanor is infecting us with her hysteria. I'm starting to worry there is biological warfare going on, and someone has released laughing gas into the house.

  "The stupid asshole. He's cheated on me... for years, and the... bastard had... the audacity to apologize," she says through her theatrical heaves of laughter.

  O...kay...

  "He cheated on you again?" I ask, my laughter slowly fading.

  Tears are streaming down her face as she loses her breath from the ungodly outburst she's having. Not one of those tears seems to be mourning for the loss of her marriage. She's just laughing so hard that it's forcing tears out. Unbelievable.

  "Again," she heaves, cackling. "Oh, sweet Rain, he cheats on me with someone new every year. But the bastard knows better than to do that shit in my bed. He has his own fucking room."

  Okay... this is so weird. And Eleanor said fucking. Who is this crazy lady wearing my stepmother's skin?

  "So he screwed a girl in your bed?"

  I really don't know how to broach this.

  "And now I have crabs!" she says through even louder hysterical laughter.

  Wow... So did not see that coming, and I wish I had bleach for my brain.

  Dane coughs and turns away to hide his laughter, taking quick strides and abandoning me as he makes his escape. I can almost picture him running far away from here. What a great way to start our relationship—or what I think is a start.

  My stepmother announcing her crab infestation is not a morning time conversation. I need liquor to endure this.

  Involuntary laughter attacked me after epic sex with the guy of my dreams, and poor Eleanor is cursed with the inability to stop laughing after catching crabs... Maybe they're on to something with the whole nature versus nurture thing.

  "He fucked her in my bed, and the bitch left her crabs on my sheets. The son of a bitch didn't even have the maid change my sheets. I haven't had sex in ten years, and now I have crabs!"

  She wheezes when her hysterical laughter steals her breath, and Tria and I both squirm uncomfortably. Damn you, Dane Sterling, for leaving me.

  I finally go to sit down, even though I choose the other couch—far away from the woman who is now doubled over, clutching her side as her body shakes. Tria wisely stays away from her, too, and sits down beside me.

  The woman I've rarely seen break is a mere hull of herself as she sips scotch this early in the morning.

  "Want one?" she asks, swirling her glass of amber liquid.

  Great. Now the Mad Hatter wishes to have a tea party.

  "Um, Eleanor, should we go to the drugstore or something?" I ask as Tria sits there, not really helping me out very much.

  "No," she says while swatting away the question. "Melanie is on her way with all I'll need. I just told her to give me a while to take out the trash."

  Aunt Melanie is coming over? Good. She'll make sure Eleanor is taken care of.

  "Is that really why this happened? Or is it because of what I told you?" Tria asks.

  Since we've been here, she's been quiet. Now that I'm paying attention, I see regret in her eyes.

  Eleanor's laughter completely ceases as she straightens her back and rolls her shoulders.

  "This is a mountain of things, Tria. What you told me might have fueled the fire, but it didn't light the match. I should have left that bastard years ago."

  So it's not just about getting crabs?

  "What's going on?" I don't particularly like always feeling out of the loop.

  Tria sighs while leaning back, and Dane comes in carrying a tray of breakfast sandwiches. He winks at me as he sets the tray down, and Eleanor smiles up at him.

  "Come on, Dane. Sit down beside Rain. It's about time you came around again. Always thought the two of you would be married by now," Eleanor blurts out, forcing me to cough on the surprise.

  Dane just chuckles lightly, not seeming as rattled. Fortunately.

  He sits down on the other side of me and wraps his arm around my shoulders. Any other guy would be gone by now. What a crazy morning.

  "What's going on?" I ask again, looking to Tria for answers since she seems to know them.

  She worries her lip for a moment, and then she releases a weary breath.

  "Mom found out that I knew she wasn't my birthmother."

  What the hell rabbit hole did I fall through this morning? I should have known it was too good to be true that Dane Sterling is mine. This is an alternate universe or one elaborately fucked up dream.

  "Huh?" That's all I've got.

  Dane looks just as shocked as I do, so I suppose their friendship didn't include conversations this deep. That's comforting to know.

  Tria shrugs, looking anywhere but at me. "The day you found out about being high-risk for breast cancer, I wanted to prepare for the worst. At the time, I didn't understand cancer, so I just assumed all cancer was the same. Amber, a friend of mine from school, had an uncle who had survived leukemia after his brother donated bone marrow. I wanted to know if I could do that, so I went to see if our blood types matched.

  "I knew Mom kept all of our medical stuff in the fireproof safe. She always handled all the paperwork for everything, including my license, but I'd seen her put the stuff there. I went digging around in it, looking for my blood type. And instead, I found my original birth certificate. Chelsey Barlin was in the spot for my mother's name. Considering Dad's history, it didn't take me long to do the math."

  I swallow hard as Tria looks away to wipe a tear from her cheek. Eleanor starts to go to her, but refrains. She's probably worried about possibly transferring her critters, and that would be so hard to explain to this society. Of course, the whole neighborhood probably heard her announcing th
e fact she has crabs.

  "I didn't know about it until last week," Eleanor says guiltily. "She never told me she knew, but she apparently confronted Edward about it when she was just eighteen."

  Tria sighs hard. "That's why he flew to New York on prom night. He said I was looking at him the way you always did, and he couldn't deal with it," she murmurs sadly, looking up at me. "After that, we barely spoke. I ended up skipping my prom."

  None of this was making sense. She skipped her prom? But I thought she went.

  "So... he got mad at you because you learned the truth?"

  Edward Noles was an even bigger dick than I realized.

  "He got mad at her because she shattered the illusion," Eleanor interjects, taking a longer draw off her scotch. "Ironically enough, your father always wanted children, but he married me knowing I couldn't have any. After years of it just being the two of us, I think resentment festered and he decided he wanted a family no matter how he had to get it.

  "I allowed it. I hated myself for not being able to give him a child. In a way, I suppose I felt like I deserved his infidelity and constant betrayal. The thing is, Edward wanted a family that adored him the same way his father was adored by his family.

  "But Edward is a man with a fragile sense of love. Once Tria knew the truth, it changed him. He doesn't work hard at anything other than making money. If he has to try in a personal relationship, he actually grows resentful—just like he did with me. It's one of the many reasons I should have left him. He's a childish brat in designer clothing."

  She looks apologetically at Tria who shakes her head. "No, Mom. Don't. Stop taking the blame for his mistakes. You've always deserved better than him."

  For once, I agree with Tria.

  This really is the twilight zone.

  "What about your birthmother?" I ask. Tria has never looked so vulnerable to me. She's carried this weight for years, and I knew nothing about it.

  "She died when I was a baby," Tria says softly, a glimmer of shame crossing her eyes. "Drug use."

  Dane is silent and stiff beside me. This is too much to deal with for anyone, and I've stupidly let him get sucked into my drama.