Stepping Over the Line: A Stepbrother Novel (Shamed) (20 page)

I tensed when he arched his back to enter me.

I was crying and blinded by the tears.

I was screaming, but choking on the sound.

“Please, don’t be upset, my love. While this isn’t what I’d planned for our first time, if you relax, I know it will still be special.”

“Know what’ll really be special?” an achingly familiar voice asked from the bedroom’s open door.
Garrett?
“Me, kicking your ass.”

With a savage jerk, Garrett yanked Canton from me, then punched him repeatedly until he collapsed. With Canton unconscious, Garrett dragged him by his feet toward the door.

Garrett left him to come to me. He took the gag from my mouth, then used a pocketknife to slice through the restraints. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asked. His large hands seemed to touch all of me at once, grazing my cheeks and shoulders, the crown of my head. “I love you so much. If something had happened…”

“I thought the same about you. Where have you been?”

“Long story. Let me call help.” He used the landline beside my bed to call 9-1-1, and give a brief account of what had transpired. Finished, along with the assurance that police would arrive soon, he said, “I was making your breakfast when the fire chief called. He told me the fire had been caused by arson, and I freaked. The arsonist had spray-painted a disgusting message on the front steps and all I could think about was revenge. I loaded the Caddy’s trunk with gallon jugs of gasoline, then drove to Jackson, fully intending to incinerate the Ridgemont estate. But then I saw this kid who reminded me of Cook, and I realized I was done with being a reactionary fool. But then I went and acted rashly all over again by spending a couple hours shopping for a ring. I was going to call you so you wouldn’t worry, but I didn’t have my phone. If I had come straight home, this never would have happened. I’m sorry, babe. So sorry.”

I clung to him. Was I glad he’d bought me a ring? Earlier in the day, I would have been thrilled. Now? I couldn’t care less. I’d rather have him. The thought of Canton inside me was too horrible to put into words, so I just clung all the tighter to my love.

“Get me out of here,” I said, desperate to escape Canton’s unconscious form. Because I saw his chest rise and fall, I knew he was alive. But I wished him dead.

Garrett helped me dress in yoga pants, a T-shirt, and robe.

We heard the police arrive and headed downstairs, Garrett held me as they went upstairs to arrest Canton. I told them what little I remembered, and they took the remains of the tea he’d prepared for testing. When two uniformed officers escorted Canton down the stairs, I looked away.

“Whore!” he shouted. “I tried saving you from your own twisted mess, but you—”

“Stow it,” one of the officers said, shoving him out the front door.

“I’m sorry,” Garrett said again and again.

“Stop. At some point he would have done something—if not today, then tomorrow or the day after. He’s sick. We have to rise above this. We have to be better than him, you know?”

He nodded, drawing me back into his arms.

I rested my cheek against his chest, soaking in his strength. I needed to follow my own advice. What happened with Canton had been awful, but not nearly as tragic as it could have been. I needed to put this incident behind me, just as I would the entire Ridgemont family.

As much as I’d wanted to kill Canton, this time around when it came to one of Savannah’s psycho suitors, I’d thankfully shown restraint. Killing both Ridgemont sons would have been my ticket to life behind bars, and I had far too much to live for to throw it all away on a piece of shit like Canton.

I get that the whole Ridgemont family dynamic had been
off
since they’d lost Chad, but that was no excuse for him to torch my house or attempt to rape Savannah. His mother had been found sleeping in a park gazebo a few miles from her home. She was now in a high-priced loony bin.

So here we were, one week later, with Thanksgiving behind us, and I was about to leap out of my skin while waiting for a very important call.

Oddly enough, through all the mess surrounding Canton and his mother, Dad and my stepmom were still oblivious about where my stepsister and I truly stood. They knew I was staying with her, but they assumed I was in the guest room—partly to provide her comfort after her ordeal with Canton, but more because I needed a place to stay that was close to my house while I rebuilt after the fire.

As for whether or not I was Cook’s true father? Due to holiday lab closures, that bit of info had been frustratingly slow to obtain. But today was the day. Savannah had gotten them to promise.

It was two in the afternoon, pouring rain, and while Savannah worked at her clinic—for the record, I’d told her it was too soon—and Cook finished his day at school, I sat in front of a crackling fire, poring over cabinetry plans for my house. I’d told myself today was just an ordinary day, but nothing could be further from the truth.

At four-thirty, my cell finally rang.

My pulse hammered louder than my ringtone. It was the lab.

“Mr. Marsden?” asked a cheery-sounding woman.

“Yes.”
Get on with it. Am I Cook’s father?

“I’m Isobel Richards from One-Source Labs, and if you’re ready, I have your paternity test results.”

“Yes. Go ahead.”
Before my heart beats out of my body and walks down the street.

She spent a good minute on scientific mumbo jumbo before finally getting to the heart of why she’d called. “What all of that means,” she said with a tight laugh, “is that using the materials you gave us, there is a 99.9 percent chance that you are the father.”

“Thank you.”
Yes.
I finally exhaled. My heart was no longer racing, but dancing. I found the wherewithal to ask her to have the documents sent to me at Savannah’s, and then I disconnected and paced, my smile so broad it hurt.

Cook is officially my son.

I wanted to drive to his school and take him for ice cream and toys and play football and compress all five years of his life into a single afternoon.

Instead, I climbed in my car and aimed for Savannah’s clinic.

The clouds had passed and the sun was shining when I parked at the end of Winchester.

After the storm the air felt fresher, lighter. Colors seemed more vibrant.

I suppose on the surface I referred to that morning’s rain, but on an infinitely deeper level, it was me who’d been washed shiny and new. For whatever reason, fate had given me the ultimate clean slate and I refused to fuck it up. I’d be the best dad, husband—the best everything for Savannah and my boy.

My boy
. The phrase would never get old.

But then I thought of myself as my father’s son. What would he think when he heard the news? In his eyes would I be an embarrassment? Would Cook’s very presence become a blight on the family tree?

I forced that still-to-be-dealt-with batch of crazy to the back of my head. I couldn’t control what Dad and my stepmom thought about Savannah, Cook, and I starting our own family. I didn’t want to believe they’d be disgusted by our happiness, but in the same breath, I knew that reaction was a very real possibility.

The street was bustling, and I had to backtrack ten storefronts to reach her building.

In California, I’d had literally everything done for me except for brushing my teeth and wiping my ass. Here, it was strange to find people going to the butcher shop, bakery, and tailor. I’d always been privileged, but never as out of touch as when I’d worked for Liam.

Now, having lived nearly two months back in the town where I’d spent my childhood, I felt more connected to my roots than ever. I remembered walking this very street with Violet and Kenya while picking up a dress for my mom—my real mom. Had she been dressing for my father or her lover? All these years later, it still hurt that we hadn’t been enough. As an adult, I understood relationships fell apart, but how could she have left her child? Was Cook old enough to be resentful that I hadn’t been part of his life from the start?

Up until now, I’d only considered the lighter side of parenting, but what happened when he learned he no longer had a connection with Chad’s side of the family? Or that Uncle Canton damn near raped
Mommy
? I hadn’t considered the fact that he no doubt loved these people as much as I already loved him. This wasn’t a situation I could bulldoze through sheer will or buy my way out of—or into, as the case may be. I assumed Cook was too young for Savannah to have told him what happened to Chad, but he did have photos of the man he’d believed to be his father in his room. What would happen to those? To the love the little boy had learned from Chad’s family? Out of respect for the man I’d accidentally killed, in Cook’s heart, I didn’t see the point of eradicating him from my son’s life. Cook and I would have enough to work through in our own transition from uncle and nephew to father and son.

Outside the clinic, I stopped to gather my composure. Anger was an emotion I was well-equipped to handle. Derision. Contempt. Rage. All of those I dealt with just fine.

Happiness was a foreign concept to me, and my eyes refused to stop tearing up.

After all Savannah and I had been through with Canton, somehow I wondered if finally telling our family the truth about our love wouldn’t in a way be worse? Canton had been an external force, but telling Mom and Dad that Savannah and I had not only fornicated, but had a living, breathing souvenir of our first night together, wasn’t going to sit well.

I’m not sure how long I stood on the sidewalk outside Savannah’s clinic, running what-if scenarios through my head, hoping to find one that didn’t involve hurting people I loved. But there were none with zero repercussions. With 100 percent certainty, Dad and my stepmom would be hurt. But Savannah and Cook would be thrilled, right? I mean, all along, I’d assumed they would be, but this news was the ultimate test.

I manned-up and went inside.

A receptionist said from behind her counter, “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re closed. I was just about to lock the door.”

“I need to see the doctor.”

“If you’re having a medical emergency, I can call—”

“I’m good. Where’s her office? Through here?” I helped myself to a door.

“If you don’t leave, I’m calling police.”

“Savannah?” I launched a room-by-room search.

“Sir!” The receptionist followed, but not too closely.

My stepsister popped out of a room at the end of the hall. “G.” Her smile was the exhilarating rush of a roller coaster’s downhill slide. She was my ultimate high. “Did you get the results?”

Grinning, feeling my chest swell enough to burst, I nodded.

She squealed, then ran to me, and jumped into my arms.

“Wait—I know you. This is…” The receptionist backed away.

“Yes, Etta. This is Garrett. My fiancé. Go ahead and leave. I’ll lock up and see you Monday.”

“You’re sure? I mean, he’s your brother. And he has a reputation for—”

“Stop right there.” I’d set her down, and now Savannah approached the woman. Hands on her hips, she said, “In point of fact—Garrett is my
stepbrother.
We’re not related in any way. But we soon will be. If you have a problem with that, I’ll provide you with an excellent compensation package, and—”

“That won’t be necessary,” the woman said. “Sorry. Seeing the two of you—well, I was caught off guard. Congratulations on your engagement. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Time froze until the back door closed on the receptionist.

Savannah’s shoulders slumped, and she leaned against the nearest wall.

“We’re engaged, huh?” I could tell the confrontation hadn’t been easy for her, but the fact that Savannah had stood up for me was incredible.

“Sorry. I didn’t know what else to say. I assume you want to get married? But if you don’t…”

I went to her, scooping her into my arms, then kissed her with enough passion to convey exactly how much I couldn’t wait to not only marry her, but spend the rest of my life with her. I carried her to the sofa I’d spied through her open office door, then gently set her down.

“When I told you this morning that it was too soon for you to return to work, this sort of thing is why. What happened with Canton was a lot for you to handle. Now, we need to tell Cook he has a father. As for our parents?” I shrugged. “I’ll leave that up to you as to when you want to let that last mangy cat out of the bag.”

She groaned. “For now, let’s just grab Cook from his after-school care and tell him our happy news. He’s going to be over-the-moon excited, so let’s focus on that, and see how the rest unfolds.”

“Deal.”

The short drive to Cook’s school took a lifetime, yet in an odd sense, not nearly long enough. My tongue felt heavy and I wasn’t sure what to say.

“Relax.” Savannah placed her hand over mine where I’d been drumming my fingers against the Caddy’s seat. “What’s got you all wound up?”

“Guess I’m scared. It’s not like I’ve been a father before. What if he suddenly doesn’t like me? Or flunks out of school? Or starts smoking?” While she laughed, I pulled into the school’s lot and parked. “Go ahead and yuck it up, but you hear about this shit all the time in the news.”

We entered the school’s front lobby.

Though the building appeared deserted, from down the hall came the sounds of happy kiddos playing. Even though it had been decades since I’d been to elementary school, the smells were the same. Crayons and erasers and a lingering trace of mystery meat school lunch. I’d only been to public school for third grade—the year my private school had suffered storm damage and been forced to close for repairs. I remembered it as a great time. Guess Savannah and I had education decisions to make.

I blurted, “I don’t want Cook to go to boarding school.”

She stopped walking to give me an odd stare, then laughed. “Relax…” She smiled, framing my face with her hands. “We have plenty of time for big decisions. Although, in regard to shipping our angel off to school, you and I agree. I want him home with us as long as possible.”

“What if he changes his mind about liking me?”

“Stop. You’re acting crazy. Cook already loves you and thinks of you as his father. This part when we tell him you actually are his real dad is a mere formality. Semantics.” When she pressed her lips to mine, hope didn’t just blossom inside me, but grew into a freaking wildflower-strewn field. With her and her son—
my son—
I’d been reborn. But I was new at this. A colt on wobbly legs.

“Mom! Garrett!” Once we entered the gymnasium, I glanced up to see him running toward us, and no matter what happened with our folks, in this singular moment, I was good.