The Stepbrother (Red's Tavern 5)

He was eyeing me like he was studying some sort of animal. I definitely felt scrutinized, but I still liked it. All throughout our short two years in high school together, he never seemed to look at me at all. It was nice to have the tables turned for once.

I swam over to the shallow end, standing up and stretching my arms from side to side.

I heard Fox chuckling over from his raft.

“What could possibly be funny?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing.”

I turned to him. “You’re sitting on that raft like you’re some sort of petty king. I’m surprised you don’t have somebody holding a palm tree leaf over your head and another person feeding you grapes.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “If you want to feed me grapes, I think your mom and my dad have some in the fridge.”

“You couldn’t pay me to feed you anything, let alone grapes in the pool.”

“I don’t know, I have a lot of money,” Fox said. “Would you feed me grapes, right now, if I gave you a million dollars?”

A flash of anger moved through me. How pompous could he be?

I glared at him. “No, I would not,” I said, my voice serious. “I have my own life, Fox. I make money. Good money. I know I’m just a bartender and not some savvy stock broker, but I’m happy.”

That shut him right up. He was silent, and after a few moments, I was worried he might actually be hurt.

How could Fox possibly be hurt by anything I could say, though? He’d always had the upper hand. The looks. The wealth. Was it possible that he wasn’t as bone-deep conceited as he’d always been?

“I’m not a stock broker, I’m an investment banker. But you’re right, Sam,” he finally said, grabbing his whiskey and downing the rest of it in one big gulp. He slid off the raft, brushing past me in the pool. “You’re happy. And you should protect that as fiercely as you can. Because I’m sure as shit not happy.”

Jesus.

He stepped out of the pool, water cascading off of his black swim shorts as he walked over to the bench nearby, grabbing a towel. He headed over to the makeshift outdoor bar my mom had set up by the deck, pouring himself another hefty portion of whiskey.

I’d never heard Fox express anything like that. He always made it seem like his whole life was a bed of roses, happy and wealthy and untouchable. But for the first time, my heart was heavy as I watched him, wondering what the hell was going on with his personal life. He almost seemed human, as strange as that sounded.

Maybe he was just drunk and being dramatic, but something inside me sensed there was more under the surface.

For once, it seemed like his facade might be about to crack into pieces.

A few hours later, the sun had gone down and the party was in full swing. The food had been perfect. Mom and Greg had turned on the outside speakers, putting on a playlist they’d made that consisted of any songs involving road trips, travel, and the great outdoors. Everyone besides Logan was drinking. I’d whipped up a special virgin strawberry mojito for him, because apparently even though he was recently twenty-one, he still wasn’t drinking.

He’d finally joined the rest of us in the pool, loosening up now that it was night time. Even Cocoa had hopped in a few times, doggy paddling around and swimming after a tennis ball.

Fox was currently sitting on the pool steps, drinking what must have been the fourth or fifth Scotch of the night. He put back more liquor than some of the grizzled old regulars at Red’s Tavern, and I kept waiting for him to get sloppy drunk. But no matter how much alcohol he had, he seemed mostly the same. It was like he was used to this, his tolerance was high from drinking that much all of the time.

He’d mostly kept to himself, sitting over there in the blue glow of the pool lights.

I’d avoided him all night. I was curious about what the hell was going on with him, but I knew if I asked, he’d just accuse me of being a gossip hound. But when Logan made a small joke about Fox’s wealth, I saw his face fall, as if he was completely ashamed to be the butt of the joke.

My heart twisted a little in my chest. Fox could typically take just as much shit as he could dish out to others. At this point, I didn’t care what he accused me of. I had to check in on him. I swam over, sitting on the opposite edge of the steps, eyeing him.

“Doing okay over here?” I asked.

“Living the dream,” he said. His eyes searched my face.

“I’m sorry I was a dick earlier,” I said. “I still wouldn’t feed you grapes, but I might, like, bring you a plate of them.”