Good Stepbrother (Love #2) Read online

  Good Stepbrother – Scarlett Jade

  He had always loved me...He always would.

  I always used people. I used my good looks and body to my advantage to get myself higher up in the world and out of bad situations. I refused to love because I didn't receive love from the one man in my life that mattered most – my father. My mom tried, and so did my stepfather, Charlie, but it wasn't enough. By that point I was too far gone.

  Then there was Carter – my stepbrother. He worshipped the ground I walked on and I hurt him mercilessly for years, then left him to clean up a mess that I made. Somehow, and I have no idea how, he was able to forgive me and help me when I needed him the most. He saw my humanity and my beauty even in my darkest moments. He loved me.

  You heard our story from Carter's side. Now it's time my story was told. All of it. Every gritty, raw detail. Are you ready for me?

  1st Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever including Internet usage, without written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2015 © Scarlett Jade

  Published by Love Kissed Books

  http://lovekissedbooks.com

  Cover by Love Kissed Books

  © Viorel Sima – dollarphotoclub.com – fashion model moving his hand through his long hair

  Part One

  Chapter One

  I am despised. I am hated. I am worshipped. I am beautiful. I am a bitch.

  I am Brielle Harper, and almost all of you hate the ground I walk on. You hate me for what I did to Carter. You hate me because I’m a nasty brat. I’ve heard it all. It’s okay, you don’t hurt my feelings. I’ve had worse done to me, and your words don’t fucking matter. I know who I am and where I’ve come from. My story is in my scars I wear proudly. My history didn’t win.

  I’m grateful. If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have Carter now. I wouldn’t be happy. But you want to hear all the gritty details or you wouldn’t be still reading, am I right?

  Of course I am. I’m Brielle Harper and you can’t resist me. No one can.

  Shall we?

  I think we’ll start with when I met Carter and how I became the bitch I used to be. I knew then he was special…

  ***

  I met Carter Travis in Kindergarten. He was this sweet, unassuming little boy with hazel eyes and light brown hair. He had his nose in a book all the time, and I was intrigued. I couldn’t read yet and he could. I wanted to be in the same worlds he was in. He read about dragons and princesses, monsters and fairy tales. He was quiet and soft. We were paired up in class to work on counting.

  “Hi,” I said smiling, and he looked up at me.

  “Hi.” Then his gaze fell back to the rubber bear counters we used.

  “I’m Brielle,” I told him and he nodded.

  “I know.”

  “You’re Carter, right?” I pressed.

  “Yeah I am.”

  “Want to be my friend?”

  “Okay.” Just like that, we were inseparable.

  He wasn’t like the other boys, running around all the time and yelling. No, Carter was just…Carter. He had a way about him that no one else did and I liked that. He would listen to me ramble on for hours, about anything and everything. Within a day of being his friend I had told him all about my life.

  He never judged me or tried to tell me it would be okay. He just listened.

  “My father hates me,” I sighed as we swung on the swing set.

  “How could anyone hate you?” he asked, pinning me with his stare and smiling. “You’re pretty.”

  My mouth fell open and I shrugged. “He does. I know it.”

  “My mom says that her love is uncon-uncon-unconditional for me,” he stammered. “I think that means it’s forever. I bet your daddy is the same way.”

  “No, he’s not. I heard him and Mommy fighting last night. He said he never wanted a baby. He never wanted me.” My shoulders fell slightly and I sniffled.

  “Well, I want you.” He smiled again. “I’ll always be your friend. It’s unconditional. Forever.”

  I wished it would’ve been enough for me to know that he loved me. That he cared. But it wasn’t. I needed love from the one man I never got it from. I should’ve been a Daddy’s girl. I had everything but the one thing I wanted more than anything. Him.

  Ed Harper worked as an attorney, and he made it perfectly clear that if it hadn’t been for me, he would’ve been a big shot lawyer in Hollywood instead of living in Marysville, Nebraska. My mother, Lisa, got pregnant with me when he was still in law school and she’d refused to abort me. I’m sure some people have thought I should’ve been spent on the sheets, but my mother saw something else in me. She fought for me.

  “Father,” I called softly one afternoon in my fourth grade year. I hung just outside his door, half my face peeking into the stately office.

  “What is it, Brielle?” he asked with a lofty sigh, barely looking up at me from his paperwork.

  “I got my report card.” I started. I’d worked so hard to please him. He had graduated as valedictorian, and that meant he was the best. I had to be the best too, so he would care. My report card sported all A’s and one B, in math, which was confusing. I was proud, and I’d gotten a sticker because I was on the A-B honor roll again.

  “Bring it in then. I don’t have time for this,” he huffed, tossing down his papers and rubbing his eyes.

  I hurried into the office, my feet barely touching the plush carpet as I rushed to his desk. I was filled to bursting with excitement and I passed it over with trembling hands. He snatched it from me and his mouth pursed as he looked it over.

  “It’s not all A’s, Brielle. I expect better from you. The work isn’t that hard.”

  “Math is hard,” I whispered, my lip trembling slightly. I’d been expecting him to say good job, I’m proud of you, something, anything.

  “Life is hard, and unless you want to be working at a burger joint the rest of your life, you need to learn how to do math. I expect all A’s next time.” He tossed my report card down in disgust.

  “Will you be proud of me then?” I asked, tears pooling in my eyes.

  “Get out of the office, Brielle. I have work to do.”

  I stumbled back and fought to keep my tears under control until I made it into the hallway.

  “Close the door!” he yelled, and I did what he asked.

  Then I fell apart. I ran to my room and slammed the door. My room was perfect, filled with any toy a little girl could want. I wanted none of it. I wanted my father. I would’ve traded every toy I owned, every frilly, sparkly dress, every possession I had for one hug. For one kiss. For one smile.

  But Father had more money than I had possessions, and he was always working to get more. If he wasn’t on a case, he was coming off of a case. If he wasn’t working, he was yelling.

  “Father!” I called a few months later. “Father, wait!” I ran down the stairs and tugged at the sleeve of his suit jacket.

  He pushed me off and straightened his suit. “Don’t grab me like that.”

  “Father, don’t forget about my recital tonight, please,” I begged. “I really want you there.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled sharply. “Brielle.”

  “Please? It’s tonight at seven. I will be dancing with all the other swans.”

  “Are you getting all A’s yet?” he snapped.

&
nbsp; “Almost.” I gulped.

  “And you’re wasting time dancing? Asinine.”

  “Ass-nine?” I asked, and he turned on me sharply.

  “Asinine. Ridiculous. Stupid. Your dancing is stupid. You should be studying. You can’t pay the bills with dancing. Ask your mother.”

  I gulped in air and nodded. “Okay.”

  “If I have time, I might show up. Tell your mother I’m leaving for the day. Go to school and learn something worthwhile. Not how to shake your ass.” He clicked down the tiled foyer to the door and looked back at me for a moment with a strange look on his face. Opening the door, he left and I bit my bottom lip, hard.

  Tears trickled down my cheeks and I tore upstairs. I had to get ready for school. I had to be smart. I had to be better. I had to make him proud. I worked harder than I’d ever worked in school. I focused and studied. I learned how to multiply and divide. Surely he’d come to my recital. He said he might. I tried to quell the butterflies that fluttered through my belly all day long.

  “So tonight’s your recital?” Carter asked, and I wanted to hug him. He’d remembered.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you excited?”

  “Sort of. I’ll be glad that it’s over.”

  “You’ll be great.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Want to play tag?”

  “Sure!” We ran around the playground, chasing each other with glee. He made the butterflies disappear, for a little while. They came back full force when my mother came to pick me up after school.

  She wore large, dark sunglasses pulled tight over her eyes and I could see tracks running down the makeup on her cheeks. “Mom?” I asked softly as I buckled in my seat in the back.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, sweetheart.” She turned on the radio and effectively drowned out any further questions I wanted to ask.

  “Daddy’s stressed,” my mother offered as we drove.

  “He’s always stressed.”

  “It won’t always be this way.” She smiled tightly.

  “Okay.” I wanted to believe her but I couldn’t. “Is he coming to my recital?”

  “I bet he’ll be right there with me in the front row, cheering you on.”

  Of course he would. He was my father. He wouldn’t let me down.

  I stood behind the curtain with the other swans. We were beautiful. We sparkled and our faces were made up beautifully. My long blonde hair was piled high on my head in a bun and I held myself as tall as possible. I wanted to be elegant. I wanted to be beautiful. I wanted him to be proud of me.

  The curtain opened and the lights went on. I danced like my life depended on it. My heart swelled with the music and I swirled and swayed, my eyes searching the dusky crowd. I performed my solo and on my final spin, I spotted my mother in the first row. My heart plummeted as I saw the empty chair beside her. He hadn’t come.

  I held myself together until the end and I ran off stage, tearing at my expensive costume. I never wanted to dance again. Ever.

  “Brielle!” My mother called my name and I ignored her, shredding the delicate pink tulle surrounding my waist. “Stop.” She wrapped me in her arms and I sagged against her.

  “He hates me,” I bawled, clenching my fists in her sweater. I smeared my made up face all over the pale blue fabric, not caring that I ruined it or my makeup. I just wanted him to see me dance. Just one time. I had worked so hard. So very hard.

  “He doesn’t hate you, darling,” she reassured me.

  “He does, I heard him say so,” I wailed and I felt her stiffen.

  “I’m sorry you heard that. Sometimes, Daddy says things he doesn’t mean. People say things to hurt other people to protect themselves.”

  “Why?”

  “Because honey, that’s the only way some people know how to survive.”

  I decided at that moment I’d become just like my father. Feelings sucked. I never wanted my heart to hurt like that again. I didn’t want to feel anymore. If I had to hurt people to survive? I would.

  The one person I couldn’t hurt at first was Carter. He could tell there was some subtle change in me, but he never asked. He was just there. Unconditionally. As he’d promised. But soon, he too became my victim.

  I hated it. I hated every minute of it. But it’s what I thought I had to do to survive.

  Chapter Two

  Over the summer, I spent most of my time at Carter’s house. He would read, I would watch TV. We’d play cops and robbers, princess and dragon, cowboys and Indians. We’d talk forever about nothing. He was my best friend. I loved him, in my own way.

  “Why won’t you dance anymore?” he asked suddenly from beside me on the grass.

  I looked over at him and blinked back tears. “I don’t want to anymore.”

  “Is it because of him?”

  I shrugged and turned my gaze back to the clear, cloudless sky. “Maybe.”

  “Did you like doing it?”

  “It was okay.”

  “Well, if you loved it, you should keep doing it. It’s stupid to quit.”

  “I want to sing more than anything though. I like that better.” He groaned and I looked back at him. “What?”

  “I can’t imagine you being like Lisa Loving. You’re too good for that.” Lisa Loving was a very famous pop singer, who I happened to love.

  “She’s good.”

  “She sings about licking lollipops. It’s dumb. It’s not real.”

  “And I guess you know what real is?”

  “It’s in here,” Carter grinned, tapping his fingers on his chest. “Not in candy.”

  I stood and rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

  “Don’t be mad.” He sat up quickly. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m gonna go home. I’ll see you at school.”

  “Okay, see you then.” He waved at me with a smile.

  I darted between houses on my shortcut home. Running up the wide staircase, I beat on the door and my father opened it. Dread filled me and I stumbled back a step. “You’re home.”

  “I do live here. Why are you beating on the door? Where have you been?”

  “I-I was at my friend Carter’s house.”

  “And you were beating on the door, why?”

  “Ed, leave her alone, she’s been doing this all summer.”

  “Great, Lisa, I let you raise her and you turn her into a wild animal. Grass in her hair, dirt on her hands, and beating on doors.” He turned away from the door and stalked to his office. “Get cleaned up, I want to talk to you.”

  I gulped and stepped inside the house. “I didn’t know he was home.”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Mom patted my arm. “Just go get cleaned up, I’ll go talk to him.”

  “Okay, Mom.” I ran upstairs and peeled off my sweaty clothes. Taking a quick shower, I winced as I shut off the water.

  They were fighting, again. I dried quickly and pulled on some clothes before hurrying down the stairs. I paused outside his office door and knocked softly. “Come in!”

  Stepping inside, I grimaced as I saw my mother crying. “Is everything okay?”

  My father sighed loudly. “No, it’s not. I want to talk to you about this next year. I expect all A’s from you. None of this bad grade business. There will be no extracurricular activities until you’re getting A’s on everything.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “And no hanging out with friends after school either.”

  My mouth fell open. “What?!”

  “You heard me. No hanging out with friends. You’ve gotten to slack off all summer and now it’s time to straighten up and fly right. If you want big colleges looking at you, then you have to buckle down.”

  “Ed, she’s in the fifth grade.”

  “I don’t care. She needs to learn discipline now. I will not have an idiot for a daughter.”

  An idea popped into my brain. “Will you help me with my schoolwork?”

&nbs
p; His lip curled up in derision. “No.”

  “But maybe you could help me…”

  “Find her a tutor,” he directed at my mother. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “But then we could spend time together,” I continued.

  He slammed his hands down on the glossy top of his desk. “Brielle Naomi Harper. What part of I don’t want to spend time with you and I don’t want to be around you do you not understand?”

  “Ed!” my mother screamed and he shrugged.

  “It’s time she hears the truth.”

  “That was uncalled for!”

  “Look, woman. It is the truth. I never wanted her to begin with. She can either be an asset to the family or not.”

  “You don’t love me?” I breathed around the massive lump in my throat.

  “I don’t love anyone. I love stability and a secure future. There’s no place in the world of business for love.”

  “Ed! This is your daughter.”

  “So you say.” He sat down heavily in his chair. “I have nothing else to say. I must get back to work to give you two the life to which you are accustomed. You may leave.”

  I rushed to the edge of his desk and dropped to my knees before him. “You don’t mean it,” I whispered weakly.

  “Get up, you’re embarrassing yourself, Brielle.”

  “Daddy, you didn’t mean it.”

  “Here’s one thing you’ll learn about me, little girl. I always say what I mean, and mean what I say. It’s a character trait you should develop. Get up and stop sniveling. I have work to do.” He turned away from me and shuffled through some papers on his desk.

  I rose slowly and choked back my tears. Fury burned through me. “As you wish.”

  “Brielle,” my mother called, and I ignored her as I left the room.

  I ran blindly through the house and ended up in a corner of a guest bedroom, bawling my eyes out. My chest ached and I gripped at my flesh. I wanted nothing more than to rip my heart out so it’d never hurt again.

  I had to figure out a way to get him to talk to me. Any attention would be better than no attention at all. If he wouldn’t react to me trying my best, maybe he’d react to me not trying at all...