Stepping Over the Line: A Stepbrother Novel (Shamed) (10 page)

“Jesus…really?” I released her to enter the house that had been mine since birth. I’d be damned if she was going to dictate my comings and goings.

“Mom…” My stepmom and father sat on the lounge end of the porch. I hugged her from behind. “Dad…” I hugged him next. I wasn’t a hugger—at all. But fuck it. I also wasn’t the monster my stepsister apparently believed me to be. Okay, so yeah, since my release, I hadn’t been Prince Charming, but she sure as hell hadn’t been a princess. She’d been total bitc—no. I wouldn’t sink to name-calling. She hadn’t exactly been welcoming, and I’d leave it at that.

But then what had I expected?

Accident or not, I’d killed her fiancé, the father of her child. An apology wouldn’t cut it, and neither would time served.

“Are you my uncle Garrett?” a little voice said from behind me.

I turned to face the child who’d unwittingly started this all. If Savannah hadn’t been pregnant, odds were, she’d have never tied herself to a loser like Chad. That fact aside, I owed this kid a father. Would Savannah let me see enough of him to at least try being a great uncle?

“I sure am.” I knelt in front of him, holding out my hand for him to shake. “Are you Cook?”

He nodded, shaking my hand as expertly as if we were longtime acquaintances at a board meeting. He was a beautiful child with inky hair like Savannah’s and root beer-colored eyes. Had his father had brown eyes? I couldn’t remember and didn’t care. Everything I saw in the child belonged to his mother. Her high cheekbones and easy smile. Because of Chad, I wanted to hate the kid on sight. I could not. Instead, I found myself in the unfamiliar position of being quite fascinated.

“What do you do for fun?” I asked.

“Play with my trucks. And shoot pirates from my fort!”

“Are there many pirates in the yard?” I raised my eyebrows and shot a worried glance behind me. “Should I get my sword?”

“Yes!” After a solemn nod, his enormous smile brightened his whole face. “But wait here! I’m gonna get mine!”

“Cook!” Savannah shouted. It was too late. Her son had already vanished from the screened porch into the house proper.

“He’s a good looking kid,” I said to no one in particular. “Seems smart.”

“It’ll be nice for him to have another man in his life.” Sometime during my conversation with the boy, my stepmom had left her chair to stand behind me. She cupped her hand to my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re home. And just in time for the holidays. We’re going to have an especially bright season.”

Savannah stood alongside my father. “I promised Suzette that Cook and I would join them for Christmas.”

“Oh, honey, why?” My stepmom’s pout seemed more fitting for one of Cook’s contemporaries than a pillar of society. “You were with them last year.”

“Mom…” Savannah looked to her hands that she held clasped so tightly near her waist that her knuckles had turned white. “Cook is all Suzette has. She’s retired from her firm, and doesn’t even do charity work. She’s a ghost of her former self.”

“If this is your attempt to make me feel guilty,” I said, “it’s not working.”

“No one’s trying to make anyone feel anything.” My father grunted while pushing himself up from his lounge chair. “In fact, after losing your sister and then you, now that you’re finally home, it’s high time we all get back to being a family.” He put his hand on my back, propelling me toward Savannah. “Give your sister a proper hug and from here on out, at least when the two of you are under my roof, I want no more mention of the ugliness that’s passed. Garrett served his time, and once his license is reinstated, all will be back to normal.”

Savannah said, “Nothing will ever be
normal
again.”

“Not with an attitude like that.”
Mom
gave her daughter a shove against me, and there we were, trapped in a beyond awkward embrace of our parents’ making. The feel of my stepsister against me, the way her breasts mounded against my chest, produced a keen longing and ringing in my ears. I wanted her. Here.
Now.
No matter how much damage time and circumstance had done, my body was all too willing to reconnect.

Savannah wriggled sideways out from my fumbling embrace.

Hands to her flushed cheeks, she said low enough for only me to hear, “Don’t ever do that again.”

“What?” She wasn’t making sense. Did she think I wanted the length of her pressed against me, teasing me? Tormenting me? Making me hate myself for what we’d both done? Because now that I’d sampled that most forbidden fruit, she was right. I only wanted more.

“Don’t stand there playing innocent,” she whispered.

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” I whispered right back while dropping my gaze to her rock-hard nips. Should I be flattered? What was that old saying? Two times a charm or three? I couldn’t remember. Not that it mattered. The fact that we were still turned on by each other didn’t mean squat in the grand scheme of things.

She raised her hand to slap me, but I grabbed her wrist.

Our gazes locked, and then she wrenched free.

“Uncle Garrett! I found my sword and got one for you!” Cook reappeared with an assortment of at least six plastic swords and knives. He’d changed out of plaid shorts and a mini red Lacoste into a pirate suit complete with a tricorn hat and eye patch. “Come on, I’ll show you my fort. We have to kill all the pirates in the yard!” He took my hand. I wasn’t sure how it was even possible, but holding his chubby fingers against my palm affected me more deeply than when moments earlier, I’d held his mother. “Come on,” he said with a tug, “let’s go!”

“Maybe another time,” Savannah said. “It’s a school night. We both have to be up early in the morning.”

He blew a raspberry, then released me to race out the back door, letting the screen bang behind him. “I don’t wanna go! I wanna play pirate with Uncle Garrett!”

“Get back here! Cook…” Savannah chased after him.

“That right there,” Dad returned to a side table for his scotch, “is what I love about that boy. He’s got spunk. He’s sees what he wants, and refuses to take no for an answer.”

“Oh, hush.” My stepmother gracefully collapsed into her chair. “A boy his age shouldn’t be so willful. Mark my words, if Savannah doesn’t take a firmer hand, by the time he’s in high school, he’ll be the hellion of the county.”

“And you see that as a problem?” Dad laughed.

My stepmom scowled. “Garrett, please go after him, and take a stern hand. The boy needs a strong male influence.”

“I’d rather stay out of it.” I took the end of the sofa closest to Dad. “Children aren’t my thing.”

“You’re as impossible as your father.” After casting a scowl in his general direction, my stepmom was next out the back door.

“You sure know how to clear a room,” Dad said.

I shrugged. “You think there’s a real chance of getting my license back?”

“Let’s just say to get the ball rolling, I greased a few palms. Keep your nose clean, and with any luck, by this time next year, you’ll be back on track.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing. Let me handle it. Suzette and Theo Ridgemont are worthy adversaries, and if they can’t put you six-feet-under or behind bars, they’ll come at you through your wallet.”

“Garrett! What a nice surprise.” Violet set another drink next to my father, then sat beside me. “Staying for dinner?”

“Of course he is,” Dad said. “You know how much he loves your catfish.”

“Is that what smells so good?”

She beamed. “Yessir. Only since your daddy’s heart attack, I learned how to fix it grilled.”

“Wait—” I looked to Dad. “You had a heart attack? When?” What else was my family not telling me?

“It was nothing.” Dad waved off my concern. “Just an excuse for your mother to get me to eat more rabbit food and force me down to only two drinks a night.”

Guilt wrapped me in a black tarp, then shoved me under murky water. “Did stress cause it?”

“Who knows? Who cares?” He raised his glass. “Violet, would you be a dear and get Garrett a neat scotch. We need to toast.”

“Yessir, we do.” She smiled and pat my knee, humming all the way down the wide central hall.

“She’s a good woman,” Dad said. “So is your mom. I’m blessed.”

“Man-to-man, are you okay now? What’s your doctor say? What’s your long-term prognosis?” On top of everything else, the thought of losing him was unthinkable.

“I’m fine. Just do me a favor and don’t kill anyone else, okay?”

“Dad…”

“I’m fine. Get that constipated mule look off your face, and tell me about this house you bought. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

I shook my head and smiled. “First, when’s the last time you even saw a mule? And second, considering I had Betsy from your office write up my offer, I knew it was only a matter of time before you were all up in my business.”

Violet returned with my drink. “Here you go. Let me set a place at the table, and we’ll have dinner in about fifteen minutes.”

“No hurry,” Dad said.

“Thanks, Vi.”

She winked. “Any time. I sure am glad you’re home—especially, without that Grady character.”

“What’s wrong with Grady?” I asked after gladly accepting my drink. “He’s a good guy.”

“Mmm-hmm…” She trotted back toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Ask him ’bout prom.”

“Oh, I will.” It was nice to have an apparent scandal that didn’t involve me.

“It’s good having you home, Son.” Dad had grown teary-eyed. A first—at least for me. I had never once seen the man cry—not even after my birth mother or Jennie died. He might claim the heart attack was no big deal, but this new emotional side of his made me wonder if maybe he was more concerned about his health than he let on.

All the more reason for me to avoid Savannah.

If Dad’s heart was barely strong enough to survive me going to prison, I hated to see what could happen should he discover every time I so much as shared a room with my
sister,
I got wood.

“Cook, get your rear down here now, or you’re not going to Mary’s birthday party.” I hated pulling out the big guns, but what other choice did I have? This was one of those times when being a single parent sucked.

My mother crossed her arms. Had she ever been this deep into the backyard? “I still don’t see why you couldn’t have let Garrett handle this. Men are naturally better at conflict.”

“I’m pretending you didn’t say that.” I held out my arms to protect Cook on his shimmy down the ancient ladder Garrett built when he wasn’t that much older than Cook. He’d told us the rickety structure’s history during one of Mom’s mandatory picnic dinners in his clubhouse. During one of her especially dark spells, Jennie had tried to burn it down. The black char still showed beneath the rug in front of the door. “I think I’m a bit more qualified to discipline my own son than his uncle, who had never even met Cook before tonight because he’s been in prison.”

“Uncle Garrett was in jail? Cool!”

“No. Not cool.” When his sneakers finally touched ground, I landed a light swat on his behind. I wasn’t a spanker, but in this case, never had one seemed more appropriate.

“Cook, honey, hold Grandma’s hand. This grass is so wet it’s like walking on a sponge.”

“Yes, ma’am.” My anger vanished when he clasped my mother’s hand, then led her to higher ground. “Come this way, Grandma. It’s more dryer.”

“Thank you, hon. Now how about you run ahead and get washed up for supper.”

“Okay!”

“Mom,” I jogged to catch up, “I already told you we can’t stay for dinner.”

“Nonsense. Violet’s already set your places at the table. And you love her grilled catfish. Besides, you worked so hard all day down at the clinic. If you don’t eat here, what will you feed Cook? You two eat far too many burgers as it is.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll have dinner, but then we have to go or Cook’s stuck wearing his bathing suit to school.”

“I still don’t see why you refuse to let one of our girls do your laundry. They wouldn’t mind.”

“I would mind.”

They’d reached the redbrick pool surround. Mom kicked off her beige Ferragamo pumps. “They’re ruined.”

“Sorry. I’ll have Cook save his allowance to buy you a new pair.”

Her sideways scowl spoke volumes. “You know, I worried Garrett would be the one to spoil tonight’s meal, but at the rate you’re going, you’ll do a fine job of spoiling it all by yourself.”

She stormed into the house, leaving her shoes where they lay.

I picked them up, saving the staff the effort. The pricey shoes were far from ruined. All they needed was a good cleaning. My mother was a product of a bygone era. She’d never washed socks or dishes, and even had a beautician on call to wash and style her hair. As a little girl, I used to watch her getting ready for fancy nights out with my dad and think she was the most glamorous woman on earth.

The memories of back then were old and faded. Hard to see through time’s fog.

I sometimes wondered if those idyllic days had been my Camelot.

When I was three, my birth father died of pancreatic cancer. I don’t remember much about him. Mostly snatches of sensory memory—the scent of his favorite cigar, the feel of him stroking my hair before bedtime. I’d always known I was loved. He’d written a letter for me to open on every birthday until I turned twenty-one. He’d added an extra one for my wedding day and the birth of my first child. I had read it in the hospital just before Canton’s visit. He’d done a great job of squashing my happy mood. The bridal letter was my last one. I’d considered opening it a half-dozen times. Mostly, after flipping through old photo albums while drinking too much wine. In every way a man could, Dickey had proven himself to be a loyal and loving father. He’d even gifted me with a lovely white lacquer box to use for storing my cherished letters. My love for him made my feelings for his son all the more confusing, and downright unacceptable.

I looked up from my mother’s shoes to find Garrett standing on the back porch’s lone step. I had no idea how long he’d been there, and didn’t care. All I knew was that I lacked the energy for one more fight.

“Did you get all of them?” he asked. “The pirates?” His half-smile tugged at a forgotten place low in my belly. Aside from a brief fling with a guy from my trauma unit rotation, I hadn’t been with anyone since Chad. My body remembered the pleasure Garrett offered all too well. The hum between my legs disregarded common sense and the fact that my current standing with my stepbrother fell somewhere between enemy and a common stranger. He used to be one of my dearest friends. Now, he’d become an enigma I had no business exploring.

“What are you doing, Garrett?”

“Making small talk.” He shoved his hands into the back pockets of faded jeans. The move made his biceps appear all the more powerful. “Look…” He bowed his head. “You might not believe this, but I don’t want to fight.”

“Me, neither. But…” Where do I start? I couldn’t exactly blurt that he needed to leave town to save me from myself. I was terrified that if I allowed myself ten minutes with him, I would wind up begging for ten more. Chad’s family scared me. As much as I had once loved Garrett, they hated him to an equal or larger degree. If they found out he had been around Chad’s son, the fallout wouldn’t be pretty. So see? By staying away from my stepbrother, I wasn’t just saving my own neck, but his.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me about Dad’s heart attack?”

“I assumed he did.”

“Was it serious? I mean, of course, any heart condition is a big deal, but—”

“He’s good. Actually, it turned out to be a blessing. A blockage was found and cleared, and now, with the proper meds, a better diet, and regular exercise, he’s good as new.”

“You sound like a drug commercial. How is he? I mean, really? Was this brought on by stress?”

“Maybe? But if you’re asking if you caused this—not directly.”

“But I could have been a contributing factor?”

I started to agree, but then clamped my lips closed. Another argument would hardly achieve the goal I most wanted. “Garrett, Daddy is fine. Don’t go looking for trouble where there is none.”

His expression darkened. “You’re a grown-ass woman. Why do you call him,
Daddy
?”

“Why do you care?” I sidestepped him to head for the house.

“I care, because it makes me sick. He’s not your
daddy.
He’s nothing to you.” For the second time in an hour, he grabbed my upper arm, spinning me around to face him. “Why do you want to emphasize this bogus family tie?”

“Because we
are
family. Why would you deny that?”

“Really?
Really?
” He tossed his hands up, letting them fall to his thighs with a slap.

He was back to grabbing my arm, and then propelling me to the pool house.

“Stop,” I protested, shoving him off. He only held on tighter. “What are you doing?”

“Something I should have done a long time ago…” We’d reached the side of the one-bedroom bungalow and he took my wrists, pinning them over my head. Cool wood siding bit the backs of my arms and hands, and before I found the wherewithal to stop him, he was kissing me and I was falling—not physically, but spiritually. I fell topsy-turvy, upside-down, spiraling headfirst without a chute from thirty-thousand feet.

“Stop!” I bit his lower lip.

He kissed me harder, grinding against me. I tasted his blood on my tongue.

God help me, I leaned into him. Hungry—no,
desperate—
for more. Breasts swollen and achy, nipples reaching, I wanted to continue where we’d left off so long ago. I wanted to fuck him all day and all night and into the next morning. I wanted to fall asleep in his arms and wake still there.

And then, just as suddenly as this madness started, Garrett released me, stepping back, and holding his hands up.
“Jesus…”

Our gazes locked and my heartbeat turned chaotic.

There was so much I needed to say, but my mouth refused to speak and I couldn’t catch my breath.

“Savannah! Garrett! Supper’s ready!”
Violet’s booming voice parted what had become painful silence.

Garrett simply walked away.

But then I was chasing him, only he was going the wrong way. “What was that? You can’t kiss me and just vanish. G—we have to talk.” He cut across the side yard. His stride was double mine and I was jogging to catch up. “What’s wrong with you? You have to be dead inside not to have felt something—anything.
Talk to me!
”

He did not.

He kept walking, and I was too tired to follow.

Not physically. Physically, I felt electrified—wired. But emotionally, spiritually, my soul recognized what I’d fought all these years to forget—that the one man in the world who made me feel alive, was for all practical purposes, dead. At least to me. There were a hundred practical reasons why we could never be together, yet only a selfish one why we should.

Lust.

Out of breath and just done, I crossed my arms, watching him go. Darkness dropped a wedge between us until Garrett was swallowed by the horizon.

“Garrett! Savannah! Get yourselves inside! Supper’s gettin’ cold!”

I sighed, rubbing my goose-bumped arms.

It wasn’t just supper getting cold, but also my heart.

Three nights later, Kenya and I logged in a massive anonymous canned good donation.

I should have been ecstatic. Instead, I felt shrouded in gloom.

Our parents hadn’t understood where Garrett had run off to, and I resented the fact that he’d left it up to me to tell them. I resented everything about him, from his kiss to his freedom. Ironic, wasn’t it? He’d spent the past five years in prison, yet I was the one still trapped behind bars of my own creation. My family, my career, my permanent binds to a ghost, all closed around me like a straitjacket, locking me in.

Canton had called again that afternoon, and as much as I welcomed the fact that he no longer felt like an enemy, I knew if he ever found out I’d been with Garrett again he’d lose it.

I shut my eyes, remembering every last detail of that kiss. It had been dirty and raw and I’d loved every second. How could I not when my stepbrother had only grown hotter with age?

Cook and Mary played tag. Did it make me a horrible person that their shrieking laughter got on my nerves? “Cook!” I snapped. “You’re getting too loud.”

He quieted for about two seconds, then was back at full volume.

“You all right?” Kenya asked.

I shrugged. “Long day.”

“I told you I can handle this on my own.”

“You shouldn’t have to. In fact, for the holidays, I think you should hire more help.”

“Sure?” She hefted a case of creamed corn onto a shelf. “We get way more volunteers this time of year. It usually offsets the need for extra paid help.”

“I’m sure. Do it now, so you have time to train them. You and Mary should visit your folks for Christmas.”

“I don’t have money for that.”

“Sure you do…” I winked.

“No,” Kenya said. “You’re already too generous.”

“Is there such a thing?” I abandoned the iPad we used for keeping track of stock to hug her. “This place wouldn’t be possible without you. I need to keep you happy.”

“Mission accomplished.” She wiped happy tears. “Now, what do I have to do to bring back your smile? That was the third time you’ve yelled at Cook.”

“Was it?” I shook my head. “Sorry. Guess I’m a little overwhelmed.”

“By what? How can I help?”

“Unless you have the power to slow down cold and flu season, I’m afraid my dance card’s full till spring.”

“Did you find Cook’s Halloween costume?”

“Nope.”

“You do know Halloween is Saturday night?”

“Unfortunately…” I counted fifteen cases of green beans, and logged them in. “Mom wanted to throw a party, but Suzette and Theo are staying the weekend. Want to come over? Share a few bottles of wine while we hand out mini Snickers and Kit Kats?”

“What about trick-or-treating?”

“We can go out early for an hour before dark, then have wine. With Chad’s parents in the house, we’ll need it.”

She leaned in for a quick hug. “Sounds like a plan.”

We worked in silence for the next thirty minutes, then closed up shop to go home.

Kenya had just powered down her office computer when she asked, “How much of your mood has to do with Garrett?”

I took my purse from the locker I always stashed it in. “Nosy much?”

She laughed. “I’m going to take that to mean you’re overwhelmed because Garrett is still in town, and you’re still crushing on him? Am I right?”

Of course, she was right. Guilt had created a permanent knot in my chest.

“Tell him. Just blurt it out—done. Odds are, he’ll be cool about it. Better yet, he’s hot for you, too.”

“Oh, really?” I almost told her about our kiss, but the rebel in her would take it as a sign of encouragement. “Good to know. But what about our parents? Chad’s parents? Society columnists?”

“Society columnists? Aren’t we fancy?”

“You know what I mean. Chad’s death made national news—not because it was that remarkable, but because Garrett knows a lot of big names. Liam and Ella Stone are everywhere. The fact that Garrett’s the equivalent of black tar on their otherwise flawless fairy tale sells magazines.”

“I forgot. Yeah, I guess a secret affair with your stepbrother who also happens to be your ex-fiancé’s accidental killer might generate press—but only if they found out about it.” Kenya turned off the overhead lights, and I trailed her to the parking lot. The kids had already shot out the door like twin rockets, and now chased each other around our cars. “And what happened
was
an accident.”

“Folks in Julep love gossip more than sweet tea. Somehow, they’d find out.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What about my father’s heart? What if he can’t handle the stress?”

“Tell him. You’ll always find another excuse.”

Maybe because I had to. Wasn’t self-preservation one of nature’s strongest forces? If Chad’s family so much as caught a whiff of me talking to Garrett while Cook was around, they’d flip.