Quid Pro Quo: A dark stepbrother romance

by Nenia Campbell

  But he hadn't been able to get to where he was today by being a poor read on people; he knew her—he knew her better than anyone—and if he couldn't offer words of comfort, he could take her out to the hills, plunk her down in the middle of nature, and dare her not to like it.

  At one point, Jay went still, a strange expression on her face. She was watching a mountain lion skulking in the bushes like a sandy shadow, holding one of its own spotted kittens in its snowy mouth. The cat glanced at them, before quickly scampering away, but he was too busy watching her face, savoring that brief flicker of childlike delight.

  “They're shy,” she said, almost to herself. “They only go after small and easy prey.”

  It was the first piece of conversation she'd willingly volunteered all morning. “Do they eat people?” he asked idly, like he didn't really care either way.

  “Not usually. And if they were going to, they wouldn't go after you.”

  “I liked the little one in its mouth. It reminds me of yours.”

  She looked at him unwillingly. “Carbon?”

  “No. The white one.”

  “Oh. I don't have Gypsum anymore.” Jay glanced off into the trees, visibly withdrawing as she took another sip of water. “She died two years ago.”

  “Where did the other one come from?”

  “Lily's mom found Carbon in the garage of her home in San Bruno. He was part of a litter and her parents needed people to take the kittens. Lily's allergic,” she added absently, as she picked at the peeling sleeve of her water bottle, “so I said yes.”

  “What made you pick him?”

  “He was the only black one. I was so afraid he wouldn't get adopted. If you go to shelters, they're full of little black cats and kittens nobody wants, because people are superstitious or think they're evil or because they don't photograph well.” Her voice broke. “I wanted him to be mine.”

  Lucky fucking cat. “I'm surprised you just have the one.”

  “I can only afford the one,” she said, in a way that suggested that she'd probably done the math. “But every year I donate some money to the local shelter and I—”

  She did a double-take and abruptly stopped speaking.

  “And you?” he prompted.

  “Stop. Stop doing that,” she said. “Using your charm to manipulate me. It's so cheap.”

  “Then tell me how I should be, Jay. You say you don't like it when I try to charm you, but you don't seem to like it when I'm crude, either. You want to know what I think? I think you don't hate me as much as you want to. You've hated me for so long because it's easy, and because you need something to fight against. I bet you came here expecting the worst, and it really fucking bothers you that I'm not the monster you expected me to be.”

  “Let me guess,” she said, taking a step back. “You're really a nice guy.”

  “No,” Nicholas said. “I'm not nice. You were nice. Hollybrook's little angel. Not me. Everything people say about me is true—but I'm not a monster.”

  “Yes, you are.” She let out a harsh breath like she was fighting to keep herself from saying more. “I should take your keys and leave you here.”

  “I'm sure you could find a way to do that if that's what you really want to do.” Nicholas brushed a few dead leaves from his shirt. “You were always the smart one. I never really gave a shit one way or the other.”

  “And yet, life worked out great for you. Imagine that.”

  “Yeah, it did. Poor little rich boy. Look at me now. Millionaire under thirty. I'm surprised you didn't turn out more bitter than you are. Life didn't turn out so great for you, did it, Jay?”

  “What is that supposed to mean? Do you think you're saving me from the gutters by forcing me to play dress-up in your little mansion? My life isn't shit, you bastard. I had a good job with good friends and an apartment I earned myself. I love my cat and feel lucky that I can take myself out once in a while if I work hard and budget responsibly. Everything I did, I did myself.”

  “And I didn't?” he asked dangerously.

  “Your father gave you your company,” she scoffed, “just like he gave you everything else.”

  Nicholas turned so sharply that he sent her skittering into the skinny trunk of the tree. “My father embezzled so much money out of the company that it was practically hollow. I had to bail it out of the water with a fiduciary bucket. The lawsuits had us nearly in the red. I had to take out loans and beg for people to lend me money they knew I might not be able to pay back to fix what he did. The money your mother seems to think is his—it isn't. It's all mine.”

  “So you're using your own money to control me this time,” she said shakily. “Big man. Well, guess what. When I was just eighteen, your father put his hand on my knee and told me how glad he'd be to kick my mother out if I married him instead. So guess what, Nicholas, I don't actually give a shit about the money, or I could have been a millionaire under thirty, too.” She glared at him with bright, watery eyes. “Maybe I'm not the whore you seem to think I am.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “At that stupid resort in Laguna Beach. Right before I left for college.” She swiped her eyes. “I could have been your mom instead of your sister. How neat would that be? Really neat, huh? Really adds a whole other level to the whole f—”

  “Jay,” he said. “Stop. That's enough.”

  Her eyes were bright. “This is all your fault.”

  “I loved you.”

  “No.” Jay folded her arms. “No. That wasn't love.”

  “You were the only woman I wanted. The only woman I have ever fucking wanted. No one else comes close. No one. My whole life—it's always been you. There was a time when I would have given anything for a kiss from you. I would have—” He broke off, thinking of his father, and his eyes narrowed against the heat. “If I had known . . .”

  “What, you wouldn't have been so cruel to me? You wouldn't have—forced me?” Her voice wavered. “Do you even remember what you did to me?”

  “I remember,” he said. “Is that why you only let me touch you in the dark, Jay? Because our first time was in a sunlit room and in the dark you can pretend I'm someone else? Well, I didn't escape unscathed. Not even my father could do what you did. You fucking wrecked me.”

  “Good,” she said. “Maybe it will bleed some empathy into you. I just wanted someone to love me. No strings attached. That's all I ever wanted—and people wanted to hurt me for it. My mom. Your dad. You. I never thought you were going to be the one in that house who was going to hurt me, but you did—you hurt me worst of all.”

  “Yes,” he said, even though it felt like something inside him had shattered. “I know.”

  “And you know what's really sick?” she cried, curling her fingers into his shirt as if she could claw out his heart. “Sometimes—I didn't hate it. I wanted to, God, I wanted to—I wanted to hate you. But sometimes I couldn't and it made everything so much worse because it made me hate myself instead. Why did you do that to me, Nick? Why?”

  “Because you broke me,” he said, “and when the misery cleared away, all I wanted to do was own you, hurt you, use you, until I made you feel as broken as I did.”

  “You did,” she rasped. “You achieved everything you set out to do, and you did it twice.”

  “I'm sorry.” The words were clumsy in his mouth and Jay didn't react to them, didn't appear to have even have heard. “I'm so fucking sorry. I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”

  “Nick,” Jay said, and he waited. When she didn't speak, he gathered her to his chest, and he could hear her muffled cries and feel her tears dampening his skin through his shirt as he slowly slid down the trunk of the tree until they were both sitting in the twisted shadow of a manzanita.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  2008

  ▪▫▪▫▪▫▪

  Jay's four years at college were the best years of her life. Berkeley was everything she had missed about San Francisco and the Bay Area in general: the crunchy weir
dness, the great food, the interesting people. It was like going from paint-by-the-numbers to pure, colorful abstract, and the only thing that soured it was the knowledge that she had to return home.

  To Damon.

  And Nick.

  She had tried so, so hard to keep from having to go back to Hollybrook. She'd applied everywhere for jobs but couldn't seem to secure anything more seasoned than part-time. It was as if she looked great on paper, but for whatever reason, things fell through as soon as she thought they were lined up. And she couldn't afford to live here permanently. Not without something more solid than waitress or comic bookstore clerk on her resume.

  You will find no quarter with me.

  Her stepfather's warning rang in her ears and she could feel herself becoming more and more worried as time tightened to a funnel and her remaining days began to dwindle.

  Jay was surprised when they came to her graduation. She honestly hadn't thought they'd bother. Her mother was wearing a low-cut top with a thin scarf and matching beaded necklace despite the heat. Damon, as always, looked as if he'd just come from a business meeting, and glanced at her with cold eyes. And Nick—Nick had gotten tall.

  She looked up at him in surprise when he embraced her, holding his camera to one side by the strap—he had to be 6'4”. She could feel the heat of him through his plaid shirt and the strength in his arms was formidable. Brothers don't hug their sisters like this, she found herself thinking, as his fingers singed her through her graduation robes and the thin dress she wore beneath it, tracing over her back in a disconcertingly familiar way that felt more like a lover than someone welcoming a beloved relative back home.

  “Hey, blue jay,” he said, in a low, deep voice. “You're so little now.”

  Jay smiled nervously, stepping back from him. You're so big, she wanted to say, but something halted her. It sounded . . . wrong. Suggestive.

  “I'm the same as I always was,” she said at last. “Maybe you changed.”

  His mouth curled. “I have,” he agreed solemnly, with an edge to his voice that sent the same chilling rush coursing through her that his embrace had. “I'm a man now.”

  Jay swallowed hard. One of her last memories of him was as an angry fourteen-year-old boy, and even though she still wasn't quite sure what had happened at Sable Blanc with Nick, she was pretty convinced that he had been about to kiss her when he bent her over on the grass.

  Looking at Nick now, Jay realized that she could no longer read him. His face had thinned out and the shape of it was now alien to her, like seeing a once-familiar landscape encrusted in ice and snow. All of that sharp and vicious anger had frozen, and his sangfroid left her feeling chilled. Her eyes fell uneasily to the camera around his neck. “You were taking pictures of me?”

  “Your mom thought it might be fun if we all pretended we were a happy family.” He traced the zoom ring in a way that struck her as curiously vulgar. “You want to see them?”

  “I'll look later. I'm sure they're great. I'm sorry I couldn't go to your graduation.”

  “Don't worry about it. The whole thing was a farce. You want me to take a close-up? You look good with your hair blowing back. I could get one of you under the bougainvillea.”

  Jay hesitated, glancing at the narrow cobbled sidewalk. It was empty. “Okay,” she said uncertainly.

  “Stand under the tree and look at me.”

  The ease of the command was unsettling and she looked at him for a moment before going to stand next to the flowering spray of purple vines. “Here?”

  “Right there.” Nick lifted the camera. “Relax your shoulders.”

  Jay let her arms fall to the side, resting one on her hip the way she had seen Jordan do. She heard a series of clicks and then he bent and shot a few more, angling up. She stared at the black eye of the camera, biting her lip as she inhaled the cloying the sweetness of the petals.

  “Yes,” he said. “That's the look.”

  What look is that? Jay stepped away from the flowers, picking a few of the petals from her robe. Desperate to change the subject, she said, “I, um, heard you got into Stanford.”

  “Yeah.” Nick let the camera fall back against his chest as he rose. “You sound surprised.”

  “I'm not.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Of course you'd get in. You're a legacy.”

  “That wasn't the only reason.” He thumbed through the photos and a lock of his hair fell into his eyes as he bent his head to view the screen. “I have many talents.”

  She was almost relieved when her blustering mother wandered over to loudly congratulate her for being so smart—“just like her mother.” Jay could see a few people glancing over at her mother's antics and it embarrassed her, but focusing on her was still safer than Nick.

  “Where shall we go?” her mother asked. “Lunch? I thought maybe Italian.”

  “Perhaps we should load up Justine's things,” said Damon.

  “I can do that.” Nick looked over at her. “How much do you have?”

  “Not much. Just a few boxes. Everything's already packed. Um.” She hesitated. “I won't be going back with all of you, though—not right away. My friend invited me to stay with her family in Half Moon Bay so I'll be spending a few weeks with her and her family at their beach house.”

  “Which friend?” her mother asked, like she actually cared.

  “Her name is Jessi Yamato.”

  “That's fine,” said Damon. “It's important to build connections with your friends.”

  Nick followed her into her room, ducking under the door frame that had never struck her as being particularly low before. Jessi, who was sorting cookware into a box, looked up. “Hello. Jay, who is this strapping young man?”

  “He's my little brother,” said Jay. “And he's only eighteen, so don't be a sleaze.”

  “Jay thinks everyone is as innocent as she is.” Nick stooped to pick up one of her boxes. “She used to fill shot glasses with water at parties so she could pretend to drink.”

  “Nick.”

  “Oh my God,” said Jessi, when Nick left. “Is that true? I thought your drinks tasted weak.”

  “I can't hold my liquor,” Jay said defensively. “Drinking more than one makes me sick.”

  “Why are you yelling?” Cori asked, wandering into their apartment. “I hear yelling.”

  “Jay's been drinking water at parties and telling people it's vodka this whole time—just like we always suspected. Remember that vodka screwdriver she had that just tasted like watered-down orange juice?” said Jessi. “Who called her out? And she has a ridiculously hot brother who just spilled the dirt.”

  “And he's only eighteen,” said Jay. “You forgot that part, Jessi. He literally just graduated from high school, you unbelievable cougar.”

  “What's your brother's name, Jay?”

  “Nicholas,” she said. “Nick. Why?”

  “Nick!” Jessi called out, making Jay stiffen. “Do you have any more dirt on Jay?”

  “Shut up,” said Jay. “Don't encourage him. Nick, I swear to God—”

  “She dances in her room when she thinks no one's watching,” said Nick, grabbing another box as she flushed. “She especially likes 'Freak Like Me' by Adina Howard and 'Pony' by Ginuwine.”

  Cori clapped her hands and laughed. “Oh my God, Jay. You are such a dirty girl!”

  “No, I'm not!” said Jay. “It's like singing into your hairbrush while dancing to Blondie.”

  “Oh girl,” said Cori. “Spare me the details of what you do with your hairbrush when you're alone. Nick,” she called out, as Jay fell back against her suitcase in annoyance, “we need more dirt on our friend, Jay. She's been so annoyingly perfect—I crave more of this deliciously prurient validation.”

  “There is nothing prurient about dancing alone.”

  “She cries when she sees pictures of kittens at adoption centers.” Nick glanced at her thunderous face, a faint smile on his lips. “She also cries when butterflies come out of the chrysalis
or at pictures of supernovae.”

  “Why a supernova, Jay?” Cori asked, trying not to grin.

  “Because it's sad, okay?” Jay yanked angrily on the handle of her suitcase. “It means a star has lost its life and by the time we see it, it's so many billions of light years away that it's already been dead forever, so we're just seeing something that just . . . died all alone up there in the sky.”

  “Oh my God, I think she's actually going to cry. Jay,” Jessi said quickly. “It's just a star.”

  “I'm not going to cry,” said Jay, whose eyes felt curiously sore. “Nick, you are so dead.”

  “Where are you going to school in the fall, Nick?” asked Cori. “Please tell me it's Berkeley.”

  “No,” he said. “I'm going to Stanford.”

  “Ew,” said Cori, wrinkling her nose. “Stanturd? Gross. I think you should go.”

  “Sounds to me like you're just jealous you couldn't get in,” Nick said dryly.

  “Gross,” said Jessi. “Jay, your hot brother has overstayed his welcome by being an elitist snob, and now he needs to be taken out with the rest of the trash. No red shall mix with the valiant blue and gold.”

  Nick rolled his eyes and left. Jay's eyes flicked to the doorway. “Can I leave my suitcase in here until I come back from lunch with my family?”

  “Sure,” said Jessi. “I'll be here. We don't have to be out of here until five, anyway. You might want to ditch the graduation gown, by the way. You kind of look like a dweeb,” she whispered.

  “Oh. Right.” Jay tugged it off and rolled it up into her purse, wheeling her suitcase against the back wall where it would be out of the way. She straightened out her dress, which was pink and embroidered. It had cost more than she usually paid for clothes, but she had wanted to look nice for her graduation. “I'll see you soon! We don't usually stay out long.”

  We aren't usually much of a family.