Stepbrother Broken (The Hawthorne Brothers Book 2) (24 page)

Because
I won
’
t be a part of it.
That
’
s
what he
’
s really trying to tell me. That I
need to get on with my life without him, and I might as well start now. God
knows, he
’
s going to.

“
Please don
’
t do this Luke,
”
I plead softly, balling my
trembling hands into tight fists,
“
Please don
’
t leave me here.
”

“
I know it
’
s hard. But one day, you
’
ll
thank me for not dragging this thing out,
”
he says, not looking at me.

“
This thing?
”
I laugh bitterly,
“
Is
that what you
’
d call us? Just some
thing
?
”

“
I
’
m
going to go now,
”
he says, turning away from
me,
“
Before you say something you
’
ll regret in the morning.
”

“
The only thing I regret is trusting
you to be different,
”
I snap at him,
“
Trusting you not to hurt me like everyone else has.
”

“
Don
’
t
turn this into some kind of melodrama,
”
he says meanly, looking at me
over his shoulder,
“
We
’
re
not in acting class, Soph.
”

“
Fuck you,
”
I whisper,
“
Get out of my room.
”

Without
a word of response, he does just that, striding out of my dorm room with his
shoulders squared. I rush across the space and slam the door shut behind him,
snapping the lock into place with a decisive click. I listen to his retreating
footsteps, barely audible over the sound of my pounding heart. Only once I
’
ve heard the elevator doors open and shut do I let
that dark cloud of despair break over me.

Pressing
my back to the wooden door, I slide down onto the ground. I pull my knees
tightly to my chest, letting the tears come hard and fast. I don
’
t make a sound as sorrow swells up all around me. I
don
’
t cry and sob to the unfeeling
heavens, like I did back on the dock. I
’
m speechless, voiceless in the face
of this incredible, inevitable pain.

You
brought this on yourself, you know,
some malicious little part of me says over and over again in the silence of my
empty room,
You brought this on yourself. 

And
it
’
s true. I asked for this. I
’
ve been courting this heartache since that first day
at the lake house, when I discovered the truth about Luke
’
s family and mine. I could have cut ties with him
right then and there, saved myself from this unbelievable hurt. Maybe Luke is
right about me. Maybe I
’
m more interested in being the star
of my own little melodrama than I am in the people I care about most. Maybe I
’
m just a pathetic, masochistic little drama queen who
’
s had it coming all along.

Well
…
What better company for a drama queen than her drama
king?

In
a daze, I dig my cell phone out of my backpack and type out a message with
trembling fingers.

Me:
Are you near campus? I need you.

By
the time I
’
ve managed to pour myself onto the
well-worn couch, I
’
ve received my reply.

Danny:
I
’
m near-ish. What
’
s going on? Is this a booty call? I thought Sexy
Pants was taking care of all your needs these days.

Me: I
’
m afraid
Sexy Pants has flown the coop. Everything
’
s gone to shit, Danny.

Danny:
Where are you?

Me: In
my dorm. He just left.

A
long moment passes while Danny takes in my message. But finally, he replies.

Danny:
I
’
m coming. Just stay put.

Me:
Thank you, Danny.

Danny:
That
’
s what boy friends are for, right? For when actual boyfriends fuck up.

A
sound that
’
s part laugh, part sop rips out of
my throat at Danny
’
s message. I curl up on the couch,
waiting for my best friend to arrive. He may not be able to understand how I
’
ve let myself fall so hard, but I know he
’
ll offer me a hand as I right myself again
…
and a swift kick in the ass if I let myself mope too
long.

The
perfect combination for a broken-hearted mess like me.

***

The
one precious week I got to spend at the lake house with Luke flew by in one
sweeping rush. The following week, however, moves so slowly that I find myself
wondering if time has simply stopped. With no classes, no work, no tasks to
distract me, the ache of Luke
’
s absence is amplified tenfold.
Danny does his best to keep me company, but I can tell that even his patience
with my despondency is wearing thin. By the time the week has come and gone, he
’
s had it with my lovesickness.

“
If you're not gonna eat that burrito,
I am,
”
he snaps at me across the table. We
’
ve hunkered down at
Peque
ñ
o for a little pre-summer semester feast. Classes
start up again tomorrow, and by rights I should be thrilled. But mustering up
even an ounce of enthusiasm is proving to be impossible.

“
Have at,
”
I say to Danny, pushing my plate across the table,
“
I
’
m not hungry.
”

“
You
’
ve
barely eaten anything all week,
”
he says, crossing his arms,
“
You wanna pass out on our first day of classes and
embarrass yourself in front of everyone? You know we have guest artists coming
in from New York City to teach us, right? Artists who have theater companies,
and connections, and zero tolerance for mopey bullshit.
”

“
Are you trying to make me feel
worse about all this?
”
I ask him, taking a long swig
of my margarita,
“
I haven
’
t heard a word from Luke since he ditched me here last
week. I don
’
t know where he is, or what he
’
s doing. My sisters and I haven
’
t even had a chance to get on the same page about what
to do with our mother
—”

“
Babe,
”
Danny
cuts me off, reaching across the table and taking my hands,
“
You
’
ve got a whole lot to say about
Luke, and Anna, and Maddie. But you know who you should really be worried about
right now?
Sophie
.
”

“
Wh-what?
”
I stammer,
“
What do you mean?
”

“
You have no way of controlling what
Luke does next,
”
Danny says, brushing his
thumb against my hand,
“
He
’
s
going to make his own choices, and he
’
ll have to live with them. The only
thing you have control over is what
you
do now. You can choose to self-destruct
and waste this summer feeling sorry for yourself. Or you can choose to pull
yourself the fuck together, kill it for those New York people, and keep on
chasing the dreams you had long before Luke Hawthorne stuck it to you. So, what
’
s it gonna be Sophie? What
’
s your move?
”

I
stare at Danny for a long, hard moment as his words hit home. With slow
deliberation, I take my hands from his, reach across the table, and pull my
plate back toward me. A smile blooms across my face as I pick up my gigantic,
glorious burrito and take a monster-sized bite out of it.

“
That
’
s
my girl,
”
Danny crows, thumping his fist on
the table,
“
Sophie Porter rides again!
”

“
You
’
d
better believe it, buddy,
”
I reply, tucking into my
meal.

Deep
down, I know that this new I-don
’
t-give-a-fuck attitude is an act.
My bruised heart still aches for Luke with every single beat. But maybe if I
really commit to pretending like I
’
m OK, I
’
ll actually start to feel a little better. Maybe a
little
“
method acting
”
is exactly what
’
s called for, here. That and
another order of tortilla chips, that is.

A
couple hours later, I arrive back at my dorm room with a full belly, a nice
buzz, and a newfound determination to make the most of this summer. With or,
more likely, without Luke Hawthorne to share it. I flop down on my bed and go
to set an early alarm on my cell phone
—
I want to have enough time in the
morning for a nice long run before the first day of summer classes.

Unbidden,
the memory of racing through the woods with Luke as my guide rises in my mind
’
s eye. I see his tanned, broad shoulders moving
rhythmically as his strong, balanced figure leads me forward. I see his wide
grin, his sharp scruffy jaw, that sweep of chestnut hair backlit by the
breaking day as we reach the summit. And of course, I see him lowering that
perfect body to mine, feel the enormity of him parting me, filling me, making
me whole
…

“
No,
”
I
mutter to myself in the dark, empty dorm room,
“
You
can cut that shit out, right now.
”

Maybe
just pretending like I
’
m over Luke isn
’
t going to be enough, here. Maybe I need to actually
do something about it. It
’
s been a week since I
’
ve seen him, and I
’
ve
had no word from him at all. I haven
’
t made any contact either, but I
’
m not the one who bailed. The ball has been in his
court to open the lines of communication. But you know what? I think it
’
s about time I took that ball and headed on home.

I
set my jaw and open up a new message on my phone, entering Luke
’
s number. Without taking a spare moment to think, lest
I lose my nerve, I write:

Me:
Hey Luke. Just wanted to let you know that everything is good here. My wrist is
even healed. Thank you for all your help, and for getting me back here safely.
I was upset to see you go, but I understand that it
’
s for the
best. You
’
re right
—
carrying on any further is just asking for trouble.
I won
’
t come chasing after you or anything crazy like that, I just want you
to know that I loved getting to know and spend time with you, however short
that time seemed. Take care of yourself.

I
let my phone fall onto the bed as I roll onto my side, hugging my knees to my
chest. Where will Luke even be when he gets my message? Back at the lake house?
Out on the road? Across the country? I haven
’
t
the slightest idea. My head jerks up as I hear my phone ping softly, and see
Luke
’
s name attached to a new text. I
snatch up the phone, holding my breath as I take in his response.