PULSE: A Stepbrother Romance (3 page)

SAFFRON

(
Back to Table of Contents
)

Chapter 3

PENNSYLVANIA

ONE
MONTH AGO

J
ust laying my eyes on Sawyer was
enough to bring back every furious emotion I’d bottled up for the last several
years. The tremendous jackass that he was, my stepbrother acted as if he hadn’t
walked out on us all that time ago.

The way the
atmosphere had changed, it was as if Sawyer had only really been living around
the corner, maybe a few towns over. Every few weeks, he’d zip by on his
motorcycle and share some coffee with Mom, or update me on his latest sexual
conquest. I’d call him a manwhore pig and he’d call me naïve and a tease.

Of course,
that’s not really happened.

My
stepbrother had scampered off in the middle of the night five long years ago. A
hasty note had been left on his bed for our parents, explaining some brief,
bullshit little teenage rebellion. He’d left his phone, his laptop, and no
contact information.

Nothing for
me. Not one word. Not one whisper.

I’d been
devastated.

Betrayed.

He was the
second man I’d trusted who had walked out on me. I could only guess how our
parents had taken it – they were beside themselves for the first few
days, but seemed okay enough afterwards.

Obviously,
they were just good at hiding their worry.

And now the
jackass was standing in my kitchen again after all these years, and he was
acting as if nothing had changed. Like he’d popped out the door for a moment,
stepped back in, and the entire world had aged five years in the meantime.

 
“Honey? Is something the matter?”

Mom was
looking at me with mild concern, while Sawyer was leaning against the counter
by the stove, a Heineken against his lips.

I snapped
back down to reality. “Mom, you…you
can’t
be serious. He
abandoned
us. You
can’t seriously expect me to spend my entire summer with him?”

She pursed
her lips for a moment. “Saffron, dear, maybe this is a good time for you two to
catch up. I thought you would have been
thrilled
to see your stepbrother again, after all this time…”

“Not like
this,” I told her, letting myself down from the barstool.

 
My eyes angrily turned to my stepbrother,
who was gazing faintly in my direction – with the world’s most innocent
look plastered across his face. “It’s been
years
since I’ve seen you – since
any
of us have seen you. You just come strolling back in like nothing’s changed?
No.”

He took a
deep swig of the bottle, maintaining eye contract with me. Mom’s overly
cheerful eyes saddened a little, and a frown started to form along the edges.

My
disgruntled stare fell back on her. “You know, it’s bad enough that Dad and you
are taking Paris away from me, but
this?
This
is too much for me to process.”

“Saffron…
Your father and I need some time alone… If you’d just…”

“You’re going
to
Paris?
And you’re leaving her
here?” Sawyer set the half-full beer bottle down on the countertop. He crossed
his arms and leant back.
“
Nobody told
me
that. No wonder Saffie’s
pissed…I’d probably be, too. That’s pretty low.”

I raised an
eyebrow at him.

He did the
same. But with the motion, he lifted the corner of his mouth into that
trademark smirk of his. My brother had a private weapon: the
Panty Dropper
, he and his friends called
it. According to them, it was the half-grin that landed him half his high
school one-night-stands…of which there were many… I remembered every single one.

He used to
tease me with it sometimes. It had made living with my cocky asshole of a
stepbrother uncomfortable in ways that it really shouldn’t have.

“Now, don’t
you
get in on this too,” Mom chided him.
“Saffron has a point, you know. Your father and I have been
worried sick
about you for
years
. None of us have seen you since
you turned eighteen.”

Sawyer opened
his mouth, but swallowed his words. After a moment, he was swallowing his beer
again, too.

“Now, if it’s
any
consolation,” Mom went on,
turning to me, “I did try to talk your father out of it. I knew it would upset
you, honey, and that’s the last thing I want to do…”

“Well, great
way of showing it,” I grumbled. “Picking my dream for your anniversary
vacation, forcing me out of the house, then making me stay all summer with the ‘Brother
of the Year’ World Champion, Five Years Running…”

“That’s
enough,” I heard a thick, oaky voice command.

We all
recognized it immediately.

Chet.

My stepfather
was standing in the doorway to the side, his thick arms crossed. Dressed in
casual comfort and a hoodie, he was just as imposing man as the day I’d met him
– at several inches over six feet. Freshly shaven, he had kept the thick,
bushy moustache that he’d grown since Sawyer left – which accented the
firm irritation on his face.

“
Both
of you,” Chet continued. “I manage
to get you two in the same room again, and it’s back to bickering as usual…”

The room went
quiet, and even my mother hesitated, turning from Sawyer to me. She looked like
she wanted to say something. Before she could, my stepfather immediately strolled
into the kitchen with a large grin on his face. His arms wrapped around Sawyer
in a bear hug, peeling him from his relaxed lean against the counter.

His words
were quiet, almost choked.

“Welcome
home, son.”

My
stepbrother stiffened instantly, but gradually relaxed into the embrace. Within
seconds, they were hugging each other long long-lost family, which…technically,
they qualified a little.

“It’s great
to have you back,” our father continued, pulling free to hold Sawyer at arm’s
length. They studied each other’s eyes, face, and build for a moment. “Healthy
and all!
Strong
, too!” My stepdad
squeezed Sawyer’s arm. “You must be in
incredible
shape…”

“Yeah, well,”
Sawyer remarked with a slight grin, “let’s just say I’ve been taking care of
myself. You’re not looking too bad yourself, old man.”

He chuckled
in response. “Well, I’ve been trying to hit the gym when I can find the spare
time…”

They pulled
away from each other, and while Chet grabbed another beer from the fridge, the
years were clearly sliding off of them. My mother had stepped over, standing
close to me, and we watched the two of them making up for lost time.

I had to
admit…as furious as I was at Sawyer, it was endearing to see him reunited with
his father after all this time. I still needed to find out the real story
– why Sawyer left in the first place – but for now…I could stand to
watch them defrost in each other’s presence.

While they
started swapping small talk and vague life updates, I found my thoughts
drifting towards the change in my stepfather’s disposition.

He had become,
in a word,
gruff
. His son
disappearing from his life hadn’t helped. The worst part was that he still
smiled and laughed along with the rest of us – but it was clear to anyone
who knew him well that his heart wasn’t into it.

As the months
became years, and Sawyer failed to show up on our doorstep again, his penchant
for keeping up the act whittled away. I couldn’t think of the last time I had
seen him smile, or even offer the faintest chuckle to a joke.

With that
said, his business associates never seemed to notice – but he became a
completely different person around them. The few times they had been around, he
effortlessly slipped back into his persona of being a jovial, confident man
– making them roar with laughter at every turn.

My mother and
I saw the
real
him.

He was a man
weakened by grief.

But that had
all changed with Sawyer’s return.

My thoughts
were conflicted on this. True, seeing my stepbrother again had brought him
straight back to who he was before. But I couldn’t overlook the fact that it
was
Sawyer’s fault
that our father
had been so depressed for the last few years. On top of that, I still had my
personal reasons for being furious with him – and as much as seeing them
together warmed my heart, I could look in his eyes and see the truth.

He was still
the monumental ass he had always been.

His blind
arrogance was just as strong as ever.

I bit my lip
angrily, watching them drink beer together and laugh. My mother’s hand clasped
onto my shoulder, giving me a tight squeeze.

“I know you
two had your differences,” she whispered to me, “and that you’re still angry
about your brother leaving. Isn’t it worth it, just for this?”

I honestly didn’t
have an answer.

Instead, I
decided that enough was enough. As I pushed away from the counter and turned my
back on their stupid little family reunion, the others diverted their attention
towards me.
He abandoned us. I don’t CARE
that he’s back, and he’s safe…he gets to pull that shit and then get a nice,
warm homecoming? No. Fuck that.

“Saffron–”
Mom called out for me.

Her concern
meant nothing to me. I stormed around the corner and out of sight, disappearing
down the hall and up the stairs. Another turn, another corridor, and the door
to my bedroom appeared on the right.

I could hear
that nobody was coming for me, and that was fine by me. In our old apartment, I
could have walked fifteen feet and slammed the door to my bedroom, but in this
stupid oversized house I had to go through multiple hallways and ascend a
flight of stairs first.

It’s a good
thing I didn’t have a flair for the dramatic.

It’d be hard
to get an audience in a place like this.

Once I’d
thrown it closed and locked it, I slumped backwards against the door and down
to the floor. It had been hard to hold it all back while my family surrounded
me – in my private room, however, I was free to let it every last
conflicting emotion come crashing out in a complete mess.

Sawyer
Samuels.

My
relationship with him had been complicated.
Very
complicated. From the day I met him, he was a complete jackass to me, just
shy of belittling me at every last fucking turn. I never knew what his problem
with me was, but he seemed to get his rocks off on antagonizing me in these
small, subtle mind games. I hated it. I hated
him.

Except…neither
of those were true.

I
enjoyed
it. It was like we were playing
this constant game with one another. I was always on the defensive, and he was
always on the attack, but something about the game just kept me playing.

It was true
that he was a complete asshole to me. I couldn’t stand how fucking cocky he
was, with his attractive build that I saw way too often when he’d wander around
the house shirtless. Then there was that stupid little smirk he had used on me
all the time. He was so confidant, so self-assured, and he had never turned down
an opportunity to pick at me.

But I…
I loved it.

It was stupid
and I knew it. I don’t know why I let him get away with it – it’s not
like I couldn’t stand my ground against him. But for some reason… I reveled in
his antagonistic attention. I didn’t let him walk all over me by any means, and
I’d challenge him if he got out of line, but something about the weird, stupid
stepsibling tension between us enticed me.