Stepbrother Romance 2 - Consumed: A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance (5 page)

“No. I don’t.” Gripping the pillow like it was a life preserver, I grabbed a fist full of hair and pulled, forcing his head up. “I don’t love you. I love what I wish you could become.”

“What’s that?” He blinked in slow motion. “I can change.”

I let go of his head, snatched up another other pillow, and swung it hard, at his head. I didn’t wince when it clobbered him. He deserved it. He deserved a hell of a lot more for even thinking about leaving Ransom.

My best friend was in the hospital. She’d just given birth to this bastard’s kid. And he was trying to hook up with me?

“Change for Ransom, you asshole. Change for your daughter. Don’t change for me!” Still holding the pillow against myself, I wriggled and squirmed to the side of the bed and then ran, as fast as my drunken legs could take me, to the bathroom and locked the door.

Then, overwhelmed by everything, I slid to the floor, my back scraping against the back of the door, and cried.

What was I going to do now?

Should I tell Ransom? Should I keep my mouth shut and pretend like nothing happened? Should I wait and see if it was just the wine talking?

Ransom and her beautiful little baby deserved so much better than this. But the thought of hurting her made me feel like throwing up. And what if she didn’t believe me? After all, she knew about my history with John. What if she thought I was making this up to try to break them up?

Shit. This was a no-win situation for both of us.

And it was his fault. John’s.

Men sucked.

I did not sleep. Not a wink. By morning I was sober. But that was the only thing I could say about the way I felt. I was tired. It felt like my fucking head was going to explode. And I was furious.

Somehow I had to get myself together before Ransom and her baby arrived home.

Caffeine was the first thing on my must-have list, second only to aspirin. It smelled like someone had already started the coffee. At least John had managed to do something right.

As I moseyed downstairs to the kitchen, wearing way more clothes than I needed, considering the heat, I silently rehearsed what I would say to John when I saw him. I wanted to beat his ass and tell him what an idiot he was. But I knew that wouldn’t do any good. So I’d spent all those sleepless hours planning out what I would say to make him change his mind about leaving Ransom. I hoped it would work. And, naturally, if it did, I was moving out. Immediately. He didn’t need me there, distracting him.

As far as ditching Ransom when she needed me, that was going to be tough. She was going to be furious. But a girl had to do what a girl had to do. It was more important to save my best friend’s marriage than to help her change a few diapers.

John was sitting at the table, staring at the wall. He looked like hell. His hair was a mess.

His bloodshot eyes met mine.

“Rough night?” I said, mockingly as I poured myself a cup of liquid-bliss.

“Yeah. About last night—“

“If you’re going to say anything but ‘I don’t know what the hell I was thinking’ then I don’t want to hear it.”

Silence.

So it wasn’t just the wine talking. Shit. My heart slid to my toes. Was I going to be able to fix this?

I cleared my throat. It was time for the speech. And it had better work.

I set down my cup of coffee. “Look, I’ll be the first to admit that Ransom has been a bitch to deal with the last few weeks,” I began. “But she was pregnant. She wasn’t herself. You need to give her a little leeway. Now the baby is here, and her raging hormones will calm down.” I hoped. “And she’ll be back to the Ransom we both know and love--”

“You. You love her,” he corrected. “I don’t.”

My heart cracked. This couldn’t be happening. I had to do something to stop it. “Please don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth,” he said to the cup he held cradled between his hands.

“You have a baby now,” I reminded him.

“Yes, I know,” he said, quietly. His eyes lifted again, meeting mine. His expression was full of regret and pain. “Believe me, I know. I’ve spent the past nine months thinking about the baby. And I’ll spend the next eighteen years thinking about her too. But it still doesn’t change things. I don’t love Ransom. I can’t live with her.”

“Well, you could have fooled me.”

“I was trying to make it work, Shayne.”

“So what does all this mean?” I challenged. “You want to be a weekend dad? Pick Johnette up on Saturdays, take her to the park, buy her a Happy Meal, and then pack her up and send her home for the other six days?”

His whole face drooped. “No.”

“So?” I gave him a
what-does-it-mean
look.

He stared down at the napkin sitting under his coffee cup. The center was stained with a light brown ring. The corner was curled up. He fiddled with it. “I want to share custody.”

Share custody? “How is that going to work?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. He’d thought about this longer than I’d hoped. He had a plan. I had to crush that plan if I was going to help save this marriage.

“I’ll get a place to live close by. And when I’m not working, I’ll have the baby, so Ransom can work.”

“As a kid who was raised in a broken family, I know the chances of that working out are slim to none. According to my mom, that was exactly what my father suggested when he left. I can’t even tell you when I’ve seen him last. I was too young to remember. He just vanished. And it sucks. I’ll admit that. It sucks not knowing my dad.” A huge lump of emotion clogged my throat and I fought to clear it. “I wasn’t worth him sticking around for.”

“Yes, yes you were. He probably just--”

“No. Don’t make up excuses for him. The bottom line is he left and he never looked back. Because there wasn’t anything worth remembering. I meant nothing to him. And that baby means nothing to you.”

Anger flared in John’s eyes. “You can’t say that.”

“Yes, I can. If you leave, I can. Because you’ll come around for a few weeks, maybe even a few months. Eventually the visits will become more infrequent. And then they’ll stop. Maybe you’ll send a birthday card some years. Maybe you’ll send a Christmas present. But over time those will stop too, as you get wrapped up in the people who’ve taken her place in your life.”

A tear streamed down my cheek. Angry that after all these years, I still got upset when I thought about the sperm donor who contributed half of my DNA. I dragged my hand across my face. “I never saw you being this kind of a man, the kind who walked away.”

He slammed his hand on the table. His face turned a deep purple red. I’d never seen him like this. “I’m not!”

Good! Maybe I was getting somewhere. I stabbed my finger at the front door. “You are if you walk out that door.”

“Shayne, you don’t understand.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “We don’t get along. If I stay with Ransom, I’ll eventually hate her. And she’ll probably hate me.”

“You have to try.”

His head dropped. “I have. I told you that.”

“You have to try every day, John.”

“I have.”

“Every hour,” I said.

“I have.”

“Every minute, then. You have to try every minute. To make it work. To find something loveable about her. And to forget something you don’t like.”

He shoved his fingers into his messy hair again, making it even worse and stared down at the table. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“You have to try. For your baby’s sake. So she doesn’t grow up not knowing you.” I left the room.

It was time to pack.

I had no idea where I was going. I just knew I couldn’t stay in this house anymore. Ransom was going to hate me for leaving before she’d even come home from the hospital. After I’d promised to help her with the baby. But what else could I do?

And of course, she’d want to know why. I needed to come up with a reasonable explanation. Something that wouldn’t make her hate John.

Even though he deserved it.

Pulling up to Kent’s property, with all my belongings crammed in my SUV, did not feel like a happy homecoming. It felt like a setback. I couldn’t make it without Kent’s help. Even though I’d graduated from college.

To think of all those thousands of dollars wasted. It made me sick.

I did not knock on his door. I wouldn’t stay in his home, even if Mom and her husband told me it was my only option. I’d rather live in my car. And as far as the house in Plymouth went, by now I assumed it had been sold.

I was greeted at the carriage house’s front door by my bewildered-looking mother, scowling. “The party isn’t for a few days,” she said, giving me the slit-eye.

“Yes, I know. I’m here because I need a place to stay. Temporarily.”

Her scowl grew scowlier. She stepped aside. “Come in. Let’s talk.”

I stepped into the compact but pretty entryway and followed Mom into the cozy living space that housed a small loveseat, a chair, and a television. As I sat on the loveseat, I realized it was too short for even little me to sleep on. It was no wonder Mom had insisted I stay with Kent in his ginormous house. It made sense…except for the fact that he was married and he couldn’t keep his hands off me.

“Honey, I would never let you live on the streets, but you can see this place isn’t exactly spacious.” She spread her arms and could practically touch the walls on either side of the living room.

“I see that now.” I inhaled. I exhaled.

“You could stay in the main house—“

“No,” I interrupted.

She leaned closer, placed a hand on my knee and said in her Mommy voice, “Shayne, what happened between you and Kent? Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

God, she was talking to me like I was ten. “Nothing, Mom. Nothing happened. It’s just that…well… he’s a married man, as you pointed out. And I’m single. It looks bad. Not to mention he’s trouble. You told me that, too. Remember? You were the one who said you shouldn’t have let me stay at his house. Speaking of which, didn’t you tell me his wife insisted I move out? How would it look if I moved back in? I don’t want his wife to think anything is going on...”

Mom’s brow rose. “Are you sure there isn’t something going on between you two? When I saw him at the house in--”

My face burned. “Absolutely not.” Crap, I hoped my blush wouldn’t give away the truth. “I told you then that nothing had happened between us.”

Mom did that thing she did whenever she was trying to figure out if I was lying. She stared at me, eyes piercing, and waited while I tried to pretend like I wasn’t squirming. At last the intensity of her scrutiny eased. “I understand. You’re jealous. Because he’s married. Of course you’re attracted to him. I can’t blame you. He’s a handsome man. And he can be very generous and kind. If I were twenty years younger, I would be too. You’re smart to stay away from him.”

“No, Mom. It’ not like that. He’s my stepbrother.” I curled a lip in faux disgust. “That’s not even remotely okay. Not to mention he’s bossy and irritating and controlling.”

She nodded. “Ah yes, all men are controlling to some degree. Why do you think I avoided getting married for so many years? I’m sure he’s just trying to look out for his younger sister.” She smiled. “It’s rather sweet, when you think of it. It isn’t as if he has to care about you or offer to help you at all. After all, his father and I were just married. You’re both adults. He could treat you like a stranger.”

Maybe I would have preferred that, I told myself.

Mom sighed. So did I. “This is the best I can offer.” She motioned to the puny loveseat. “Let me talk to Dirk and see if there are any other options.”

“This is fine. I’ll make it work.” I scanned the tight space, trying to figure out where I would stash a few clothes and some personal items without cluttering up the place. It wasn’t going to be easy. It was hard to believe, but the carriage house was smaller than Mom’s apartment in Ferndale. I would more or less be living out of my car. But at least I wouldn’t be staying with a married man in his house. And I wouldn’t be breaking up my best friend’s marriage. “I’m going to quit my job in Ferndale. But I’ll look for a job out here right away, and as soon as I can afford a place of my own, I’ll get out of your hair.”

Mom stood. “Okay. You can sleep here.” She smoothed back a strand of hair that had fallen out of my hastily-made ponytail and tucked it behind my ear. “To think you could have had that lovely house in Plymouth all to yourself.”

“Mom, please don’t.”

She lifted her hands. “Fine, fine. I won’t remind you of the beautiful historic home I’d picked out for you. With the lovely staircase and moldings and original stained glass windows.”

“Mom.” I made a zipping motion across my mouth and she laughed.