Stepping Over the Line: A Stepbrother Novel (Shamed) (8 page)

At the halfway house, we ate together on Wednesday nights. It was supposed to be our time of
sharing,
but what it really amounted to was a bunch of ex-cons rating the pros and cons of Julep’s two strip clubs and three bars over crappy meat loaf, canned greened beans, and instant mashed potatoes.

“Y’all seen Misty? Down at Knight Trips?” James helped himself to thirds of the potatoes. He did time for drug trafficking back in the nineties. Rumor had it that his court-appointed attorney had been one of his best clients, which was why he’d been in so long. “I don’t care what you say, she’s got the best titties—hands down.”

Grady snorted. “Bet you’ve had your paws all over those titties.”

“Damn straight…” He felt up himself to demonstrate—even adding groaning noises. Lane, Ian, and Dewitt—all in their twenties, also in for drugs, but lesser charges—thought that was real funny.

I finished my meal, then said my goodbyes. I needed fresh air. Time to think.

I’d been an ass with my family, and before that, with Savannah when we’d met in the park.

I’d felt bad about it ever since I watched her run away. I hadn’t wanted to be cruel to her, but it was the best way I knew to keep her at arm’s length. I was stuck in the halfway house till the end of the month, and in the state for a year’s probation. As long as I stayed out of trouble and behaved like a good little ex-con, I would then be free to go.

But what did that even mean? My old life in Palo Alto felt like a dream. Liam called my new cell all the time, but I always let him go straight to voice mail. We had nothing to say.

I walked until the sun faded and a few hearty crickets chirped, and I’d reached a part of the historic district that was more seedy than restored—but it was getting there. The neighborhood used to be the jewel of downtown Julep. The homes were shadows of the area’s former fabric mill glory. Georgian, antebellum, and Victorian palaces marched along the magnolia-lined street like forgotten wallflowers at a grand southern ball. Since the fabric mill work had gone overseas, most of the places were boarded up, but a few were works in progress or fully restored to their former glory.

On the corner stood the most grand of them all—a five-story Victorian monstrosity. Mismatched bay windows, and dormers had been stacked beneath a mansard roof and three turrets. All of that had been decorated like a gaudy architectural cake with dentil molding, trim, and columns. Most of the lower windows had been busted or covered with warped plywood, save for one stained glass beauty way up on the highest turret’s top. The crusty old place reminded me of myself—broken, but still standing. Barely. It was fucked up and made no architectural sense, yet possessed a sort of James Dean house-swagger I was all about.

Screw law. Dad had made a great life for himself out of real estate and contracting—mostly commercial, and on big deals thousands of miles from here—but who’s to say I couldn’t start small?

Suddenly, with a sense of excitement I hadn’t felt in a very long time, I wanted not only the house, but a purpose. A reason to wake up in the morning.

I made note of the address on my phone, took a few pictures, then started to jog back to the halfway house. I took a different route I hoped was shorter, but soon wished I hadn’t. On the block behind what would soon be my new house was a Queen Anne in far better shape than most of its neighbors. Seated in a windowed alcove with her head next to a small child’s—as if they were working on a puzzle or playing a game—was Savannah and her son.

I should have moved on, but couldn’t help myself from stopping and just staring.

Her boy was as beautiful as her. Dark hair, chubby cheeks. I was thrilled to see he took after her as opposed to being fair like his father. I wish he’d been mine. It would have been a nightmare for our family, but given time, maybe Dad and my stepmom might have gotten over the scandal. Before Chad’s death, when Savannah told me she’d run tests to confirm her baby was Chad’s, I’d been relieved, but also let down.

If her kid had been mine, I would have had a logical excuse to be with her. Without that biological link, we weren’t really family. We’d at least been friends once, but the whole Chad thing had shot that to hell. Now, I wasn’t sure how I felt about her other than that just watching her and her son through a window filled me with the oddest sense of longing, of wanting to be part of something larger than myself.

Hands down, she was still easily the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, but even more unobtainable.

I’d decided to run back to the halfway house to guzzle the scotch I wasn’t allowed to have there when she looked up.

Busted.

Our stares locked. I should have walked away. Instead, I raised my right hand.
Hi.

Her gaze narrowed.
What the hell are you doing here?

She looked to the boy and smiled. Said something that made him hop up from his chair to scamper off.

The next thing I knew, her screen door shot open, then she charged barefoot across the painted wooden planks of the front porch wearing nothing but hip-hugging boy shorts and a vintage Strawberry Shortcake T-shirt. She’d piled her long, dark hair into a lopsided bun that rode her head like a funny little Charlie Chaplin hat. Stray strands of hair escaped, framing her dear features in spiraling mayhem that matched the spark in her green eyes.

She ran down the five steps, then stomped down the winding redbrick walk leading to the city sidewalk. Hands on her hips, she stopped in front of me.

“Go away.” She looked back to the house. Checking to see if we had a pint-sized audience? “No—first tell me what you’re even doing here? Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I live about six blocks north, and was out for a walk. I didn’t even know this was your place.” As a show of good faith, I smiled. “So see? Stumbling across you was a happy accident.”

“With you, there’s no such thing. We all remember what happened the last time you had an accident.”

I rammed my hands into my pockets. “Even for you, that was a low blow. You know how sorry I am for everything that went down, but you—better than anyone—also know I never would have punched Chad in the first place if I hadn’t been defending your honor.”

“My honor was fine.”

“Was it? You were A-OK with him fucking another woman at your own engagement party?”

She winced. Only she knew if that was because she’d found my choice of wording crass, or the question itself had hit home. “Please, go. And forget you know where to find me.”

The screen door banged open. “Mommy! I brushed my teeth!”

“Okay, sweetie!” Hands trembling, she smoothed flyaway strands of hair from her face. “Go upstairs and pick your bedtime story. I’ll be in soon.”

In twilight’s faint remains, I only saw the boy’s red PJs, giant teddy bear slippers, a shock of dark hair, and slash of a smile. He was my nephew. Sort of. Just the way I wanted a real connection between Savannah and myself, I didn’t want to downgrade her son to merely a step-nephew. But even that request was sick, because I sure as hell wouldn’t want his mom to be my true sister.

“Please, G…”

“Sure. I’ll go. Sorry to be a bother.” She hadn’t called me “G” since the morning of what had essentially been the last day of my life. Did that mean we’d made progress? Instead of hating all of me, she at least remembered the good times? Late-night movies, popcorn, and deep conversations about our different chosen roads.

There was much I wanted to say to her, but couldn’t—no,
shouldn’t.
I owed it to myself to stay away. She represented trouble. My lone addiction that no mere AA group could fix. I had my job at the park to keep me busy, and with luck, I’d soon have a house—even if at the moment, it was technically just a pile of what would no doubt be pricey-to-fix wood.

“Please?”
Her voice sounded small and scared and defeated. I hated that I’d done that. It crushed me that she would never again officially be
home.
On college holidays, I’d climb out of my car, and she’d be waiting for me. She’d jump up from a porch rocker to run squealing across our parents’ yard, flinging herself against me to have me lift her into my arms. She’d wrap her long legs around me and I’d bury my face in the black silk that was her hair, and finally exhale at the sheer relief of being back with her where I belonged—only all along, that had been our reality’s cruel joke. The fact that society saw us as brother and sister when I’d always just viewed her as my deepest secret. “Garrett, you have to go.”

Dazed, I yanked back from my daydream too fast. Even though the whole time I’d stood there, my eyes had been wide open, I hadn’t truly seen. There was no warm welcoming smile behind her gaze, but cold contempt. That hurt. Reality hurt. But then on some level, everything about my knowing her had always hurt.

She crossed her arms. Raised her chin.

She might be smaller than me in stature, but her stance told me she wasn’t budging. Probably just as well. So just like she stood behind her personal wall, I turned my back on her and built one of my own. “FYI—you’re nipping it. Our mom wouldn’t like you being out on the street with no bra.”

“Mom!” Cook called from his open bedroom window. “I picked a story!”

I’d waited outside until the streetlights came on, and I knew for certain Garrett was gone. I didn’t trust myself to be alone with him. The more I saw him, the more I realized just to what extent I’d missed him—not just our always-too-fleeting hugs, but talking and knowing he was my best friend. Part of me longed to invite him inside for coffee and dessert. Another part egged me on to try making out with him on the sofa. Then my conscience kicked in to remind me he’d killed my son’s father. No matter what my heart demanded, loyalty to my son and his paternal family took precedence over all else.

At some point during our conversation, darkness turned the once balmy air cold and damp.

I shivered, running my hands up and down goose-bumped arms. Tomorrow, I would not only take my lunch to the park, but initiate a deal with Garrett that would hopefully convince him to leave town.

“Mom!”

“Coming, sweetie!” I wiped away infuriated tears I had zero reason for crying, then jogged back into the house, closing and locking the front door behind me.

Starting Thursday morning with rushing Mrs. Benson hadn’t been my intention, but this was the third time in two weeks she’d been in about her chronic cough, and the third time I’d told her that odds were the cough wouldn’t stop until her two-pack-a-day habit stopped.

“I’m sorry.” I typed a quick note about her aftercare into the exam room computer. “I don’t mean to sound short with you, but we’ve already discussed your options. Bottom line, the smoking’s got to stop.”

“I know, but it’s hard.” Her shoulders sagged. “My kids moved away, and ever since Billy died, it’s just me, all alone in that big house.”

“Have you thought of volunteering? We always need help at the food bank. If you’d rather not leave your house, Etta—my receptionist—leads her church group, which makes quilts for senior citizens and soldiers.”

“I am a senior citizen.”

My patience was wearing thin. “You’re sixty. Haven’t you heard it’s the new fifty? I couldn’t be sorrier about you losing Billy. He was a wonderful man, but that doesn’t mean you get to quit life. Please, do me a favor and at least try one of the smoking-cessation patches I gave you—just for a week. You don’t have to quit cold turkey.”

“Promise?” she asked in a raspy voice after her latest fit of coughs.

“Promise.” I gave her a hug, then sent her on her way. I was antsy to get to the park.

As soon as I finished with my latest notes in Mrs. Benson’s chart, I told my nurse I was leaving for lunch, tossed my lab coat over the back of my office chair, and then set off to find Garrett. It was time for a new tactic to get him out of town, and as my mother always says, it is far easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar. Although, I doubted Mom’s perpetually faultless manicure had ever once swatted anything other than a fellow shopper while fighting for a pair of Manolos on sale at Neiman Marcus—not that she’d ever needed a sale to buy whatever her heart desired. But she certainly wasn’t immune to the thrill of the hunt.

The late October day was gloomy, and I wished I’d grabbed a sweater.

Halloween was Saturday, and I still had to find Cook a costume. A few weeks earlier, Suzette announced that she and Theo would be down to help me take their grandson trick-or-treating. She’d seemed so depressed, I hadn’t had the heart to tell her no. The only bright spot of their visit was that since I logged such long hours, they usually brought tons of food or their personal chef. Suzette had wanted me to take Cook to them, but I’d begged off due to work. The four-hour round-trip drive to their Jackson mansion was too much to heap onto my already full plate.

In the park, my usual bench was taken by an elderly couple, which was just as well, considering Garrett wasn’t nearby. The park wrapped in a giant C around cypress-lined Blood Bayou. When I’d first moved here as a young teen, a couple had been picnicking with their newborn son at the water’s edge. A nine-foot alligator had lunged from beneath the duckweed to take the baby. A massive manhunt had ensued in the hopes of at least finding the infant’s remains, but though locals killed hundreds of gators, no sign of the baby had ever been found. There’d been talk of closing the park, but then sanity prevailed, and a local fencing company donated six miles of green wrought iron, and no one had died since.

Until today.

Because I was pretty sure that at the rate my heart was racing, I wouldn’t last the next five minutes, let alone however long it took to track down my stepbrother.

I finally found him wielding a skimmer at the closed community pool.

Leaves had turned the water brown, and the lounge chairs had been stacked into neat piles of ten. Despite the clouds and nip in the air, he wore his mirrored sunglasses, customary white wifebeater, and faded Levis. God help me, but I felt trapped by a visceral push-pull. My brain told me to
run,
to stop playing with fire. I’d been so long without a man that I obviously wasn’t thinking clearly. A hot bath and a spicy read usually took care of most physical cravings. But then there were those times when flashes of what Garrett and I had done at the club haunted, taunted, and made me desperate for him and only him, filling me over and over again.

The night of my med school graduation party, I’d never been drunker, yet in complete control. Deep down, I’d planned my attack. I’d known Chad and I were barreling toward marriage, but before then, I’d needed to know if being with Garrett would equal my teen and college coed fantasies. Our chemistry had always been explosive. But maybe years of waiting and wondering had made fucking him feel so good? Or maybe the taboo element of our relationship? I didn’t know or care. Just standing here staring made me wet enough that if we hadn’t been in a public place in broad daylight, I wouldn’t have trusted myself not to drag him off into the bushes.

Finally, I cleared my throat. “Garrett?”

“That’s me.” He kept right on working. The in-and-out motion he used with the pool skimmer called to mind other activities calling for a fluid pumping action.

“We need to talk.”

“Thought you wanted me to go away? You even said,
please.
” In and out he moved that stick. Gathering leaves, dumping them just over the fence, then starting over again. My imagination had me so hot and bothered that if he kept it up, I feared I might come.

“Because you were at my house,” I explained. “Now that we’re in a neutral zone, I—”

I stopped talking to let a jogger with a camera pass.

“This is
my
place of business,” Garrett said. “You don’t see me busting into your clinic…” His broad, white-toothed smile held all the warmth and acid of a bowl of bad gazpacho.

“Sorry. We need to talk, and I wasn’t sure where else to find you. Are you allowed to take a break?”

“Nope.”

“Why are you making this so hard?”

“Why are you even here?” He paused, clasping both hands atop the submerged pole. “Last night, you made it painfully clear you want nothing to do with me. Fine. Turns out this town is plenty big for both of us, so you stick to your side and I’ll stick to mine. Problem solved.”

From where I stood, I had nothing but problems. I forced a deep breath. I’d come here with a plan, and for my own sanity, I needed to follow it. “Did you know Daddy is trying to get the state bar to reinstate your license?”

He snorted, then resumed his work. “Never going to happen. Your lover boy’s family will never allow it.”

“Stop with the digs at Chad—especially, when he’s not here to defend himself.”

“My apologies to the love of your life. But answer something that’s puzzled me for years. If you were so happy with Chad, why’d you fuck me?”