Wrong: A Stepbrother Romance

“We have to.” Liam slammed me to his chest when I fought away.

“Why? Why do we have to? Why do you have to make it any of your business, Liam?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Because you are my business, Sasha. You’re mine. You are the person I live for. I promised you eight years ago I’d never go after that piece of shit because you said you wanted to move on, but clearly, you haven’t,” Liam seethed, digging into past I’d wanted to keep forever hidden. “You’re still unhappy because you still live for your mother’s approval. You bend over backwards for her because you’re still holding out hope that she’ll turn back into the woman she was before Owen came around, but you should know by now that she won’t.”

“Why not?” I demanded. “How do you know that?”

“She hasn’t forgiven you in ten years, Sasha, what makes you think she ever will?”

“Because she’s my mother!” Ragged sobs choked from my throat. “I loved the life I had with her before Owen came along, and I can’t forget the fifteen years I had a mother, okay, Liam? I can’t forget that she took me shopping for school and wrote me checks for my field trips. I can’t forget the times she sat with me in bed till I fell asleep. I’m sorry, but I miss that bond. I miss that part of me where there was a mom and a daughter and a feeling of love that I can’t recreate with just you!”

Liam finally stepped back. His stare bore into me, and he didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. I had hurt him. I knew that. But I was telling the truth. Our eyes locked, the silence stretched between us.

“I’m sorry,” I finally whispered, my voice breaking.

“You don’t have to be.” Liam stood away from me. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I know. I know you do. And I know I make it hard for you,” I said softly. My gaze fell to his bare chest as I waited for him to go with his usual and say no, that nothing was hard for him when it came to me. But he didn’t.

“Yeah, Sash. You do,” was all he said before retreating back into his room. I blinked, my body frozen with surprise and rocked by guilt.

When Liam came back out of his room, he had a T-shirt on and his gym bag slung over his shoulder. His tired gaze met mine for barely a second before he opened the door and walked out, letting the door shut behind him. Standing naked, alone in the kitchen, I waited to hear his steps go halfway down the hall and stop. I didn’t deserve it, but I hoped anyway that he’d come back and comfort me. But all I heard was the ding of the elevator and his sneakered feet walking in.

Once the heavy metal door slid closed, I crumpled to the floor and cried.

Chapter Sixteen

It was my day off, but I couldn’t stay at home for another second. So despite knowing I’d regret it, I went to Riley’s.

“Trav! Didn’t I tell you to clean the living room before I left?”

Riley glared up the stairs of her Battery Park condo – the beautiful luxury apartment in what she called the “lamest neighborhood in Manhattan.” Compared to Liam’s Chelsea loft, the area was certainly less vibrant, but I tried to remind Riley that she was still lucky to have such nice home at all. Of course, my attempts were generally in vain.

“Travis!” Riley yelled with true vigor. “Travis Daniel Shannon!”

“I’m on the phone, Riley – what?”

The second I heard Travis shout back with equal attitude, I retreated to the kitchen, stacks of resumes in hand. An argument, or at least a heated debate, was about to ensue so I figured I’d just get started on our work alone. Riley and I had a fair amount of hiring to do. After going through the holidays as a brand new bar last year, we’d learned that come November, employee call-out rates went through the roof due to trips home for the holidays, failing to get back in time, being hung over or in food comas – the like. So we resolved that by November of next year, we’d have some holiday staff on hand. And since the hiring of new people was always contested at the bar, Riley and I decided to go to her house to keep our search fully private. Plus, it always took forever because Riley leaned toward hiring cute guys and I leaned toward hiring cute girls. From what I observed, it was just better for business.

“I’m gonna kill that motherfucker,” Riley muttered when she finally met me in the kitchen, plopping down at the seat across from me.

“I’ll help you clean the house when we’re done with this stuff.”

“I don’t want you to help. That’s not the point. The point is if he works from home, he should be doing housework. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable here. Do you?”

“No, but – ”

“Trav!” Leaning back in her chair, Riley screamed out the kitchen. “Sasha agrees with me, Trav!”

I sighed. “Riley. Let’s just go through the resumes.”

“Ugh, yes please. Show me some sexy male models,” Riley smacked her lips. Our job posting on Craigslist required all applicants to send a picture, which meant half the stack of resumes included professional actor headshots. I gave a little shudder.

“I feel like I’m being stared at going through all these. It’s kind of creepy,” I laughed, fanning out the dozens of portraits. “Tell me why we need to see their faces again?”

“Because asking for pictures discourages the uglies from applying,” Riley said with mock daintiness, forming her usual “yes,” “no” and “maybe” pile. “And the fact of the matter is that looks count in this world. More than any of you politically correct losers are willing to admit.”

“Alright, alright. Yikes, woman,” I snorted, though I wasn’t actually surprised. Riley had always put a fair amount of weight on appearances. She was the pretty one growing up. She started early on makeup, went to tanning salons and kept up with the trends. We ran with similar crowds in middle and high school, but she was the one who curled her hair, wore short skirts and bought twenty-dollar lip gloss. Generally, I wore messy buns and my volleyball tees over black yoga pants. Mom always begged me to at least do a “chic” ponytail or a chignon, but I always ended up taking them out. “I might as well have had a son,” Mom would tease.