Surge : A Stepbrother Romance

by Smiles, Jenni

  “I tell you what, why don’t you at least come stay with me only until you find another place?”

  Mick thinks for a while. “Okay, I will come and live with you, but I want to contribute to the rent and the bills.”

  I smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  “Should we get a nurse?”

  “I was a homecare worker. If you feel you can trust me, I am happy to do it.”

  Mick smiles at the prospect of me waiting hand and foot on him. I’m not entirely sure what I’ve gotten myself into, but I did put it out there. Like it or not, it’s going to happen.

  “I’m okay with that,” he says.

  “Great, so it’s settled. I will go home and make all the arrangements and see you at my casa tomorrow.”

  I turn to leave so I can clean up the house and prepare his room. I also need to order a hospital bed. Before I reach the door, I hear Mick calling to me.

  “Sam?”

  “What is it, Mick?”

  “Do you mind staying with me a while? I could really use the company.”

  My heart melts at the prospect of Mick admitting he wants me by his side. Tobin looks at the both of us, getting the hint.

  “Well, I have to hit the road. Mick, call me if you need anything.”

  “Will do, Dad. Thanks for being there for me.”

  “Anytime, son. Anytime.”

  We watch as Tobin leaves, pulling the drapes closed as he goes. I smile at Mick in an evil fashion and he looks at me, knowing and wanting the same thing. I hop up onto Mick’s bed and nestle in beside him. It’s nice to feel his body next to mine. I have to be very careful not to injure him in any way. He doesn’t look like he’s in pain—in fact, he looks happy I’m here.

  We begin to kiss, and his lips are as succulent as I remember. I run my hand up and down his muscular stomach. His body is still as magnificent as I remember. Mick returns the favor, grabbing at my breasts with his strong hands. Lowering my hand, I reach for his manhood. To my surprise, it’s hard. He’s always hard, or so it seems. As I begin to stroke him, he moans at the pleasure. I unbutton my blouse to give him a better view of my breasts. He strains in obvious discomfort as he tries to get closer. I gently place my hand on his chest and push him back down.

  “Just enjoy, Mick. You don’t have to do anything but enjoy.”

  I continue stroking his cock. As I move the sheets back, I stop to stare at the size of his dick. Mick smiles as he usually does, understanding how he is blessed. I begin to suck his hard member and Mick moves his hips to the rhythm of my sucking, stroking my hair. I can hear his heart monitor increasing in speed. The gentle beeping has become more frantic. Then it occurs to me that this may bring the nurses by. There’s no time to waste. I increase my speed to hurry him up and not get caught.

  Already, I can hear footsteps. I sit up and begin again, kissing Mick while stroking his cock and saying dirty things in his ear. I can feel he was close, and so is the nurse. All at once, his body tenses up and he shoots his load high in the air, most of it landing on my shirt the remainder on my hand. I clean up my hand as quickly as I can just as the nurse draws back the curtains. The nurse looks at us, and the look on her face tells me that she at least partially understands what she just walked in on.

  “Oh. Um, please get off of the gurney. It is not designed for two people.”

  “My apologies.”

  Mick smiles at me as I get off of his bed and I smile back. The nurse leaves without another word, shrinking into the shadows of the halls.

  “Mick, I know now may not be the best time, but I have to tell you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m late.”

  Mick raises a brow. “Late for what?”

  “Late, Mick. Late!”

  It takes him a moment, but finally, my stepbrother catches on. “…Oh!”

  Chapter 20 Mick - Recovery

  The next few months are very hard. Slowly, but surely, I fight my way back to health. With the support of my physiotherapist, and of course, Sam, I am able to make it. I walk with a limp and lost a lot of mobility in my leg, but I just keep reminding myself that I was alive. One thing’s for sure, though: I will never again step into the ocean.

  The relationship that Sam and I share has grown a great deal, and though we never really talk about the fact that Sam is pregnant, I’m ready to be a dad. Sam starts to teach at the surf school again, and I have a lot of unanswered emails and questions from fans and sponsors that need to be addressed. I’m procrastinating and not wanting to have those conversations. It’s too painful to think that the thing I loved most is over. I have not even been back to my house since the incident in the water. I wonder how bad it is.

  Sam walks into the kitchen where I am sitting. “Mick, can we talk?” I know what this is going to be about. I’m not ready for it, but if my life is going to move forward, it needs come out.

  “Sure, Sam. What’s up?”

  “What are you going to do?” As she asks the question, I realize there is no way I can deal with this.

  “What can I do, Sam? I am half of a man now. I have no plans, nothing to fall back on—all I have ever done is surf.”

  “I’m not saying you have to get back into the water again. I know you don’t want to.”

  “It is not that I don’t want to. I can’t!”

  “Okay, Mick. I’m not looking to make you upset. At some point, you are going to have to face the world and make a decision about your future. I don’t care what you do. I just want you to be prepared. Make the decision yourself before someone makes it for you.” Her words enrage me. To think that someone else would decide my future!

  “I want to go home, that is what I want! I can’t stand this constant pestering!”

  “Don’t be like that, Mick. You know that isn’t fair. I am just trying to help.”

  Without another word, I storm out of her house. Sam chases me down the street, due to my now gimpy leg t doesn’t take her long to catch me. Now she is begging me to come back, but I am leaving. I feel hurt and betrayed, but mostly, I felt worried about my future. This is not about me and Sam—it’s about my inability to know how I am going to support myself and my impending child.

  I take a cab back to my house and I’m shocked to see that it was vandalized. I slowly get out of the cab and survey the damage as I make my way inside. All along the floor are empty bottles of beer. The windows are smashed and the walls spray painted with graffiti. I feel very taken advantage of. Sick to my stomach and weak. The way I feel about my career is now echoed in the halls of my home.

  From the depths of my stomach comes a guttural scream. I have had enough! I am sick and tired of feeling afraid. I am sick and tired of feeling like I have been taken advantage of. Mostly I was sick and tired of being a passenger in my life. It is time to take control.

  Over the next few hours, I make calls to disaster recovery companies to come and seal my property. I still have lots of money and they are not going to take my home. Then I dial my father’s number.

  “Hi, Dad. It’s Mick.”

  “Mick, how are you? How’s the leg?”

  “It’s all good. Listen, can I stay with you a while?”

  “You know you are always welcome here. What happened to Sam?”

  “Things are just complicated right now. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Yeah, no problem. Come over anytime.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  I go into the garage and get out my old beater that I love so much. In the back are a few surf boards staring at me, waiting for some type of response. I get out of the car, rip the boards out, and smash them into as many pieces as I can. My fit of rage has all but exhausted me. My injuries have left me in a shape that was less than ideal. Any type of physical activity exhausts me. As I stand over the pile of Styrofoam and shards of epoxy, I breathe heavily. I’m not sure why I needed to do that, but part of me feels better that I did.

  I wait i
mpatiently by the door for the disaster recovery team to come by and I throw the supervisor the keys while rolling out of the driveway. I don’t even stop to talk to him. He looks at me in disbelief.

  “You have my number, call me and tell me what it has to cost.”

  He blinks. “Uh… okay.”

  I speed out of my driveway with a full mind. How did my life get to this point, all because of one shark? My phone begins to ring and as I look down I notice its Jaime. Jaime has been calling me nonstop for the past few months and I still have not responded to him. I also have not responded to my sponsors, or the rest of the world. I have become a complete recluse.

  Pulling into the San Onofre parking lot, I roll slowly in so I can spot my father’s “house.” This is no house—it’s a beat-up old mobile home. I love my dad, but the way he chooses to live does not resonate with me. I park right beside his old Junker as he comes out to greet me.

  “My boy! Come on in.”

  “Hey, Dad.”

  I feel like his child again as I walk into his mobile home that he affectionately refers to as his wife, and he gives me the tour as he always does. I will never understand why he wants to show me around. It’s like it gives him a sense of pride.

  Above our heads is my board, strapped to the ceiling. That board means so much to me, but now it feels like it means nothing at all.

  “Have you been riding it, Dad?”

  “That board? No, the only feet that should ever touch that board are yours. Do you remember your first ride?”

  “Not really Dad, no.”

  “Let me tell you about it.” I’m not in the mood to hear it, but as he continues to talk, it makes me very sentimental. “You were here, at San Onofre. You wanted nothing more than to surf. It was all you talked about. The only problem was you couldn’t be out there alone. So every morning, you had to wait for me to get up, take your board out, and help you surf.

  “The first time though, was something special. I woke up, only to find that you were gone. Scared as any parent would be, I woke your mother to tell her. She frantically ran out of the motorhome to find you with your board in tow. You were dragging this very board to the water—you must’ve been five years old. Your mother was about to yell at you when I stopped her. I told her to wait and see, you knew how to swim, and maybe this was your time. She watched you while biting her fingernails as you made your way to the surf. You never noticed—you were too focused on your goal. You have always been that way.

  “Once in the water, you continued to drag the board out, fighting the small waves, that were so big to you. You were so tiny. When you got to the spot you wanted, you hopped on the board and waited. That board was more like a boat to you. A wave came and caught your board. Just like that, you were off. You stood up on the board with a smile on your face the likes of which I have never seen since. As you caught a glimpse of us, you started to cheer and yell. Your mother, with her hands over her face, began to cry. So did I. That is my fondest memory of you, boy, and I will never forget it.”

  “You never told me that story before. How come?”

  “You never needed to hear it until now. It’s not the shark in the water that you’re afraid of, son. It’s the sharks on land. Don’t make the same mistakes I made. Go live your life. It is, after all, your life.”

  My father has never confessed a fear to me before. He must have been afraid of the corporate world, so this is his escape. He’s right. I’m not afraid of surfing. I just don’t want to deal with the backlash, or not be as good as I used to be. I love to surf. I need to get back in the water.

  We leave the motorhome and walk down the beach to the water. This is as close to the water as I’ve been since the attack. It feels like it’s time to do something, I just don’t know what. My heart pounds the closer I get to the water. I look over at my father and his expression doesn’t waver. He keeps the proud smile on his face the whole time.

  I creep to the edge of the water, the waves gently licking my toes. The water is cold and refreshing. My heartbeat slows and I close my eyes, just enjoying the sounds, the smells, and the sensations all around me. Something feels very right about this. This is where I’m supposed to be.

  A voice rings out from behind us. “Is this a party for just the boys?”

  It’s Sam. I’m happy she’s here, and as I turn to see her, she smiles. In her hand is my board. Decision time has arrived.

  Chapter 21 Mick – Learning to Fly

  Sam has a wicked smile on her face, and I know what she wants. She wants me to get into the water. As she holds out the board for me to take, fear overtakes me. A kneejerk statement ricochets out of my mouth,

  “I am not going back into the water.”

  “No one said that you have to go back in the water, Mick,” she replies. “Don’t go if you don’t want to, but at least leave on your own terms. If you never want to surf again, I’m fine with that. All of those years, though. You put in all of those years, only to leave because of what happened. Surf one more time, Mick. Not for your fans or sponsors or me. Not for your father, but for you. Make it your last surf, celebrate your life of surfing, and then put it to bed forever.”

  That sense of finality is something I never thought about. I don’t want to be done with surfing. I want to be done with the business of surfing. I hate that part of it, and this is just an excuse for me to get out.

  I snatch the board out of Sam’s hand and limp my way out to the water. It feels good to be in the water—in fact, it feels great. As I paddle into my first wave, I realize I no longer have the strength in my back leg to get up. I stumble and fall. Okay, okay. That’s okay. It was my first attempt. I try again to get up on the next wave, and I can’t. I try the next four waves to get myself up, and I can’t do it. Storming out of the water, I toss my board down and walk past Sam and my father. I am embarrassed and angry and want to be left alone.

  “Mick, it’s going to take some time. Let me teach you.”

  “Ha! You, teach me?! I am the best surfer in the world!” Are you sure Mick? You can’t even stand up on a board.

  “You could have fooled me.” Sam yells. I know Sam is just trying to get to me now, and she is. I am so angry, I could spit.

  “I am done, Sam! Done!”

  I storm away and into my car, I need to get away from that whole scene. My life, my fucking life! I have no idea where I’m going, but I know I am going away from here.

  I’m driving around town, going nowhere, continuing to reflect on my first day back in the water. Who does Sam think she is, telling me she is going to teach me how to surf? I don’t think so. Then I realize, a possible solution.

  Of course, I may need to change some things to relearn how to surf, like my stance. I do have more strength in my other leg. I am going to have to try that. I am going to have to try and surf the other way, but there is no fucking way that she is going to teach me how to surf.

  I drive around town all day, searching for something. I have no idea what it is, but it is something. I drive by my house to see how the work is coming along. After talking with the contractor, I find out it is going to be a huge bill to fix all that needs to be fixed. It needs to be done, I’m just not sure that after not working for a few months, I still have enough money to cover it. I am, after all, going to have to give up my career. I can’t even stand on a board, never mind compete. If this reno is going to exhaust all my money, I’m better off just to sell the place. I better call my accountant.

  Sam was right. I’m going to have to figure out what to do next with my life. As night falls, I make my way back to my father’s motorhome. Parking my car, I see him sitting by the fire pit, beer in hand and a bag of chips in the other.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey, Mick. You all right? I was going to call, but I figured you just wanted to be left alone.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’m okay. Well, as okay as someone can be with everything in his life ending.”

  “Hm.”

  I gl
are at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Ah, nothing, just thinking.”

  “What are you thinking about? Spit it out!”

  My father shakes his head. “Son, I have given you a lot of advice over the years, though I have tried to stay out of your romantic relationships. This woman, though, is different. Sam is special. She nursed you back to health, she stayed with you when you were with someone else—she has tried to help you on your feet in any and every way possible. Your response to her is essentially a fuck-off. That woman is not deserving of that.”

  “She doesn’t know me, Dad. She thinks she does because she’s my stepsister, or whatever, but she doesn’t. What the hell am I supposed to do? How can I support myself, or her?”

  “A man always finds a way. We cannot always control the things that happen to us, but we can control our reaction to them, and as far as I can see, you have not done well at that.”