Stepbrother Summer (A Stepbrother Romance Novel)

by Taylor, Alycia

  Remembering this look from childhood, one of the few that remained from when we were really a family, I wanted to cry and embrace him, happy for the small memory and hope that the father I was once so close to was still there, somewhere. This look was not an angry one. It was a kind and gentle gaze, which accompanied a question about what was going on. He simply wanted a reason for whatever it was that was bothering me. This look told me that he was willing to help, instead of just focusing on the negative aspects and demons that I was sure still surrounded him on a daily basis.

  Just because he claimed to have a good life with his wife and stepson, while his daughter lived out her dream, far enough away from home as to not mess anything up for him, did not mean he didn’t think about what happened and what he could have done differently. It didn’t mean that he didn’t wonder why there was so much going on inside of his head, or didn’t try to decipher the craziness that was all a part of his mind since the moment my mother took her last breath.

  However, when I thought about this, instead of answering his question, he stood up and demanded, “Why are you angry?”

  Now the look was gone and I was rocketed back into the reality of having the volatile, crazy father whom I knew well, but could rarely handle. This change in him only made me feel angrier, which caused me to stand and glower at him. I didn’t mean to be callous with my words, but I had already endured too much aggravation to feel any pity or remorse concerning what I was about to say. “Why did you have to bring them here?”

  My father stopped and stared at me as honest confusion glossed over his eyes. “What?”

  I sighed, realizing that I might as well jump into the argument that he seemed to want so badly, instead of trying to fight against the current, which I knew from experience would simply swallow me whole. So I demanded, matching his original volume and tone. “Tell me why you had to bring them here, of all places! This was our special place. We could have gone anywhere, literally, anywhere in the world, but we didn’t. We came here. Why?”

  At first, I was afraid that he was going to scream at me. After all, he was teetering on the brink of going absolutely insane; but instead, he bounced back and tried to actually answer my question, instead of attacking me.

  He sighed and tried to explain. “Well, we always had good memories here, right?”

  He left room for me to comment, but I felt that would only make me feel worse, so I just widened my eyes, as though expecting more before I would give him any kind of feedback.

  He shrugged. “I just…I really thought it would be a nice place to bond…”

  “But I don’t want to bond here,” I exclaimed, far louder than I had intended. However, before giving my father a chance to retort my claim, I felt myself breaking down. I didn’t want to cry now though, so I fought it. Instead, I just plead my case with him and explained, in an irritated tone, “This was the place that mom loved most!” I tried to make him see, but as the thought struck me, even harder once I had said it out loud, I was overcome with emotion. “I know that she would have rather seen you sell it and use the money to buy your own new family getaway then to share it with these strangers!”

  At this, my father reared back. But instead of coming back at me with fury, he seemed wounded as he plead, “They aren’t strangers. They are our family. I know you think that I took this decision lightly…either marrying Theresa, or coming out here for the summer, but I didn’t. I thought about both for a really long time…and you were even okay with it, or at least I thought you were.”

  When he paused, I crossed my arms and answered with the most honest, while still trying not to be hurtful response I could muster. “Well, Dad, I thought I was okay with it too. I thought that everything would be fine, but I can’t help how I feel.”

  My father returned his argument a little more indignantly. “I’m sorry, Ashley, but that just isn’t my fault. I asked your opinion and I thought you gave it to me…”

  “So, what? Now my opinion doesn’t matter?” I spat, knowing that I shouldn’t be so petty, especially with my father, who was slightly unstable in times like this, but I just couldn’t let the moment pass without saying anything.

  “It isn’t that your opinion doesn’t count. Stop being so difficult. It’s just that…” he stopped then and breathed out, as his eyes furrowed, before he answered, “It’s just that now it is too late. I married her six months ago and we are sitting in the beach house, during summer vacation now, so even if I wanted to correct what you think are mistakes, I couldn’t do it anyway. Maybe next time, you’ll tell me the truth.”

  I turned my head, ready to retort, but looked at the stormy darkness welling within the pools of his eyes. I figured that now would probably be best not to respond with anything.

  So I just stared at him, until the cloudiness in his eyes began to pass and he continued the conversation with me. “Look…” he hissed, “maybe this isn’t your ideal vacation, but it means a lot to me, so could you please try to give your new stepmother and stepbrother a chance?”

  My head made some motion that might have resembled a nod, but otherwise I didn’t answer him. I was too depressed to answer him and too hurt to continue to lie. I just stared back at him, waiting for my father to either say something that I had to respond to, or leave.

  Eventually my father chose to leave and when he did so, I flung myself back on the bed and finally allowed myself to cry. I quickly grasped the pillow, which made my emotions grow even fiercer, since it still smelt the way everything used to smell, before my life was turned upside down. I was completely devastated. I had countless fights with my father before. That wasn’t really the issue. The point was that I was so aggravated by his need to turn everything around, so that nothing was ever his fault that I felt like disappearing into the bed, never to be seen again, just so I never had to be made to feel like this.

  I should have kept my anger in check… I thought; you know there is no talking to him when he is like this!

  Still, I knew that no matter what had happened, or how I had reacted, eventually, he would have pushed one too many buttons and the result would have been the same.

  I should have never come here, I finally decided as I realized there was nothing he could have done over the phone that would have made me feel as badly as I did right now, with absolutely no way to escape.

  If I was still at school, all I would have to do is hang up the phone and get on with my real life. But now, for the rest of my summer, this is my life…and I am surer than ever that I am going to hate it.

  Chapter 4

  Tyler

  I thought that this was going to be easy. I told myself that over and over again, with a cocky smile adorning my ever-so charming and talented lips as I made my way up to Ashley’s room that night.

  I had heard she had an argument with her father, which was proven to be correct by the fact that she had refused to come down for dinner, or anything else.

  Barely seeming to notice, her father and my mother had stared adoringly into one another’s eyes and ate their dinner as if we were all one big happy family. If I was a caring person, it might have bothered me, but I understood and accepted wholeheartedly that the relationship Ashley had with her father was really none of my business. All I really cared about was getting into those delightfully tight pants of hers. Personal matters didn’t really concern me.

  When I approached the door, I made sure that I looked good, as always, by checking out the mirror that was conveniently placed in the door of the hall that led into the bathroom.

  It’s almost as though this house was made to accommodate my charm, I thought with a sneaky, toothy grin. I turned around, assured that I looked irresistible, and knocked on her door. The bitch won’t even know what hit her.

  “Go away!” I heard her yell through the door and I tried not to snicker. I liked a woman with a little bit of spunk.

  “Damn, girl! It’s just me, Tyler. I just came to see if you wanted to talk about anything,” I ans
wered in a cool, calm and collected way.

  I heard a grumble of disgust make its way through the door before she rebuffed, “I thought you of all people would be against running personal welfare pleas for my father…or your mother.”

  “Hey, I’m cool with personal welfare, but I am not up here because anyone told me to come. I don’t take orders from anybody,” I answered with a slight bite to my tone. I wasn’t the least bit insulted by what she said. In fact, I let it slide right off my back, but I certainly couldn’t let her think I was some pussy, going around doing errands for my mother, who doesn’t deserve the time of day, or her lovesick husband. However, I did recognize that this girl had a lot more spunk in her than her old man. I guess I had thought that since he was so easy to manipulate, she was going to be some dumb blond who would bend to my every whim. After all, I am pretty persuasive.

  Yet, I was happy to see that this was going to be a little bit more of a challenge. That’s okay, I thought as I rationalized it all in my head, I need some fresh meat.

  I decided to enact a little more force behind my approach. I grasped the door handle and pushed my way in.

  Fully clothed, unfortunately, I saw her immediately as she leapt off the bed and screamed.

  “What are you doing? Get out...”

  “Nobody tells me what to do,” I answered, sneering at her, but then shrugged, thinking that I should ease into being a tough guy. “Shit…I just said I wanted to talk.”

  “Get out, or I’ll yell for my dad and your mom…” She raised her eyebrows, as though that was supposed to scare me.

  I laughed genuinely and answered, with a slight sense of cynicism, “They’re too busy fucking to give a damn…”

  Her brow furrowed and her lips grew tight. I wasn’t sure if it was in reaction to what I had said, or my whole demeanor, but it amused me either way. She was so fresh, so renewed and so…delightfully different, that seeing her like this, standing up to me, giving no indication about her real feelings toward me, made me want to work all the harder to earn her trust and gain entry into her bed.

  However, after a few moments in what was something of a standoff, I figured that I probably wasn’t going to get anywhere with the way that I was acting. I decided to change my approach yet again. I let my shoulders fall and I shrugged a careful, seemingly remorseful way and answered with a debonair appeal, “I heard your fight with your father…” I put my hand up, so that I could explain myself before she physically attacked me in a way that I didn’t exactly prefer. “I get it. He can be an ass, but I just wanted to say that if you wanted to talk to someone, other than your dad, or my mom, someone who knows what’s up…” I then gave a reassuring smile, before I said, “I’m always there.” I strategically turned around, but then stopped, mid-pivot in order to tell her, “And for the record, I don’t think that being an instant brother and sister is all that great to begin with either.” I allowed my eyes to travel up and down her body, as though I was frisking her with my sight, before I sneered in a devilish way and added, “Especially when you are so damn fine.”

  At this, I received a reluctant smile before she rolled her eyes at me, but I had gotten what I had come for.

  With women, it was all about the feelings. Where I had just one goal and a million different tactics to get that one thing, women had a million goals and only one real access point. However, like striking gold, once a man found that sweet spot in her emotions, it could lead him directly between her legs in a record amount of time.

  Therefore, I figured I would leave her wanting more, so I shrugged and moved out of the room.

  Now, it is time to initiate phase two, I thought to myself as I entered my room and closed the door slowly behind me, trying best to ignore the sounds of her father and my mother banging on the floor below us. I wasn’t joking with her about that fucking thing. The two of them went at it like rabbits, but I also had a sneaking suspicion that the sex was the only thing holding their marriage together.

  However, I understood completely; I wasn’t going to put a ring on it to prove I understood, but I wasn’t judging.

  Over the course of the next week, I tried my best to play nice and pretend that I really was a good guy.

  I still refused to give up my sense of swagger, or my focus for exercise, since no booty was worth that much to me. After all, I still had an image to maintain, but I was nicer to her than I would have been if I wasn’t interested; especially after all of the disrespect she showed me.

  I wasn’t used to being played, especially not by any woman. I tried to reach out to her, but she just shot me down. Lucky for her, I was enticed by the prospect of a challenge.

  Even still, besides her quick to put down wit and annoyingly egotistical sense of self-righteousness, she didn’t give me much to go on.

  Throughout the next week, she basically did whatever it was she did.

  After the first night when I barged in on her, she discovered that the door locked and didn’t forget; not even once. I made sure that every time I went by, I checked.

  I wasn’t trying to be perverted or anything, but I wouldn’t have minded getting a sneak peek at what I was working so hard for.

  However, I did find it a little bit strange that she hardly ever talked to her father. After making it clear to everyone that he was the only reason she was here, I would have thought that she would have been a little keener to speak to him, or hell, even look at him.

  Yet, in those rare moments when I did see her emerging from what was basically her little cave, which had, as far as I could tell, remained untouched, as though she was trying to preserve the memory of something, I did notice that she wasn’t as angry as she was sad.

  If I actually gave a shit, even in the slightest, what the source of her sadness was, I might have had an inclination to ask. But I didn’t and therefore, I tried to stay as far away from the friend emotional approach as possible. She had scoffed at my offer to talk and therefore, I figured she would be the type that would get all sappy and wet when I finally burst that protective shield; and I didn’t want any of that.

  So, I decided to just be nice to her and let her come to me. But after being rebuked for a week straight, my confidence was a little shaky when it came to Ashley in particular.

  One hour on the beach was all I needed to score any perfect bikini bottom and size DD pair of boobs that I wanted, so I knew I hadn’t lost my magic lady touch; I had just found a very intriguing challenge.

  Like any good hunter though, I realized after a week that despite what I had originally concluded, I was still trying to find that sweet spot; that weak link in her defenses that, if pulled with the right finesse, could cause the entirety of that fortress she worked so hard at maintaining to come crumbling down around her, leaving her vulnerable.

  In short, I knew that I needed a different approach. It was time to go back to the basics.

  Chapter 5

  Ashley

  The first week with my father and his new family was the absolute worst. I felt like I was in a perpetual nightmare.

  On top of having my supposedly loving father continue to put on an act of being constantly aggravated at me for not wanting to cuddle up and be one happy family, all of the memories that I found at every single point throughout the entire house, as well as the beach town that it was built on, was driving me absolutely insane.

  When I was in the house, everything reminded me of my mother and the fact that she wasn’t there, while going outside of the house, everything was so different it was like my memories didn’t matter.

  It felt as though my whole life was just swallowed up and dragged away by the tides, without leaving a shred of evidence, besides the house that was now infested by people that I couldn’t stand.

  Everyone else seemed to be having a great time. Even my father, when he wasn’t scowling at me, was living it up with his new family.

  I hadn’t heard my father laugh in years, but throughout the course of the week, I heard him belt out a
few jolly, deep belly laughs that were so jovial that I wondered if he was faking it. Still, that was none of my business. Questions were not welcomed and apparently, neither was any mention of the past. It just didn’t seem right. I felt as though the beach house was now some cruel funhouse, which laughed at me and mocked my misery everywhere I went.

  Even when I was in my room alone, the memories of the past screamed to get my attention, just by existing in everything that I loved the last time I was here. I could remember decorating the room the first summer that we bought it. I picked out everything from the bed-set to the curtains and even though I grew older, I had always liked the simplicity of the room. It was the place I always felt represented the epitome of my childhood. It was a space where I could be myself, where good memories were, at one time, endless.

  However, now those very same memories seemed to be laughing at me, along with the rest of my house. My room in that beach house had become a museum of my own misery, but for reasons that I wasn’t even sure of, I could not bring myself to change a thing.

  Just like the rest of the house, the unchanged nature of my room was bittersweet, and even though it caused me pain to look at the countless memory triggers, I just couldn’t let go, fearing that if I did, those memories would be lost forever and I would resort to living like my father; an empty shell of the man that he once was.

  Still, it did not take long for me to wish that I was back at school. I knew that I would miss it, but I was hoping that there would be at least a few moments this summer, perhaps when I was alone with my father, or just hanging out at the beach, where I would feel my mother’s presence and be overwhelmed with a sense of calm.

  If that had happened, even just once, I knew that going to this beach and enduring my new life would have been worth it. But during that first week, I felt nothing of the sort.