Her Wicked Stepbrother: A Nolan Bastards Novella Page 4

“You’re welcome.”

  Kyle had a nice smile, she thought, returning her attention to the front of the classroom.

  The next day, when she slid into her seat, Kyle offered her a smile, and she realized he was actually kind of cute. His hair was lighter than Aiden’s and his eyes blue rather than brown, but still, he was handsome.

  In his own way.

  His nice smile made an appearance. “How’s it going?”

  “Good,” she said. An awkward beat followed. “H-how’s it going for you?”

  His mouth quirked and he gave her a one-shoulder shrug. He flipped over the paperback book on his desk. “Did you read the assignment?”

  She nodded. “You?”

  “Nah. Did I miss anything?”

  She mimicked his shoulder shrug. “Only a world war and bunch of swear words.”

  “Really?” He spread the book’s spine and fanned the pages.

  “Really.” His smile was infectious and spread to Brynn’s face as Mr. Strickland started class.

  Awareness prickled on the back of her neck and she looked up, then over.

  Aiden, the dark scowl stamped on his face, lobbed golden-tipped daggers at her.

  Her treacherous heart leapt, but she arranged her features into a placid mask and returned her attention to the front of the room.

  * * *

  The weekend before homecoming, Brynn’s dad poked his head inside her bedroom door. “Got a minute? Your mom and I want to talk to you.”

  A frown pulled at Brynn’s mouth. Her dad had never referred to Siobhan as her mother before, and she couldn’t help but wonder why he did so now. She rolled to a sitting position and climbed off the bed, where she’d been stretched out and working on a homework assignment for her chemistry class.

  Downstairs, the boys sat lined up on the sofa while Siobhan perched on the edge of an armchair. Brynn’s dad gestured to the other armchair, and Brynn sank down into it.

  Her dad crossed to stand behind Siobhan and he placed his hands on her small shoulders.

  Dread snaked through the pit of Brynn’s stomach.

  Craning her neck, Siobhan smiled up at Brynn’s dad, then she shifted her gaze to her sons and a huge smile spread across her pretty face. “We’re having a baby.”

  The slash of pain ripped through Brynn. “What?”

  “It’s true.” Siobhan’s cheeks flushed pink. “We didn’t plan it. It just… happened.”

  A baby? But… but… but…

  But Brynn was her dad’s only child. For that reason, and likely no other, she was special to him. If he had a baby now, what did that mean for her?

  Aiden leaned back, sinking more heavily into the sofa cushions, and Rory dragged a hand through his dark hair.

  A pucker wrinkled Cian’s brow. “Aren’t ye a little old?”

  Siobhan smacked him on the back of the head. “I am not old.”

  Brynn wanted to throw up, and she had no idea why.

  Her dad and Siobhan were having a baby. A sweet, innocent baby.

  She should be happy.

  She didn’t know what to think or feel, so all the thoughts and feelings pelted her at once. She tried to pick them apart, to understand the chaos swirling inside her, but every thread she unraveled led back to the same uncertain point.

  Was she being replaced?

  How would she fit into her dad’s new family? Would she even have a place?

  It was selfish and probably childish, but there it was.

  Reaching up, Siobhan gripped Brynn’s dad’s hand. With a soft caress, she smiled up at him. “I hope it’s a girl this time. I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

  The words landed like a punch to Brynn’s gut, and a sharp puff of air shot from her.

  Siobhan seemed to recognize her blunder and offered Brynn a weak smile. She held out her hand.

  Dazedly, Brynn reached for it.

  “We three will be the best of friends. You’ll see.” With a quick squeeze, Siobhan released Brynn’s hand and stood.

  After that, everyone filed out of the room, but Brynn remained in her spot, unable to move.

  Unable to comprehend all that had suddenly, irrevocably changed.

  Chapter 4

  That night, the whole house slept while Brynn lay in her bed staring at the ceiling in the dark.

  Well, not all occupants of the house were asleep. Only those inside the home at present slept.

  Hours earlier, Rory and Cian had returned home after another night out doing God knew what, and the muffled voices in their bedroom had fallen silent some time ago. Aiden, however, remained unaccounted for and was, presumably, awake.

  Somewhere.

  Jealousy gnawed at her insides.

  With a huff, she thrashed to her side, but the wall provided no more interesting a view than the ceiling had.

  She was tired, though she couldn’t sleep. Tired of thinking about him. Tired of contemplating who he was with and what they were doing together. In the hours since she’d learned about the baby, she’d already tired of worrying about her place in this new family her dad was making for himself.

  Despite her exhaustion, her mind wouldn’t release her to slumber. The thoughts spun around her brain, clunky and uncomfortable, until one fleeting idea disrupted the torturous churn.

  Ice cream.

  On her most recent trip to the grocery store, she’d bought a huge tub of vanilla ice cream with chocolate fudge swirls, which she’d then stuffed behind the Brussel sprouts in the freezer. The decadent promise had her tossing back the covers and clambering from her bed at a quarter after two in the morning.

  In the kitchen, she hauled the frozen tub from its hiding place and plopped it down on the kitchen counter. She scooped a heaping serving and settled on a barstool at the kitchen island. When she’d devoured nearly half the hearty helping, a sound at the back door gripped her.

  She sat with the spoon buried between her lips when Aiden materialized from the dark night.

  He drew up, and a veil of weariness crawled across his features.

  Her stomach cramped. Must be exhausting, she thought dejectedly, harboring so much hate and dislike for her.

  She stabbed at the suddenly unappealing mound of ice cream melting in her bowl. If she ignored him, maybe he’d vanish to his basement dwelling rather than hang out in her vile presence.

  Except he didn’t retreat downstairs.

  The soft tread of his footfall drew near, then he stood before her. Reaching out, he pulled the spoon from her mouth, his unsettling gaze tracking the unhurried silver glide.

  His lips parted slightly with his shortened breaths.

  Without so much as a “hey, how are ya doing?” he eased open the cabinet drawer, selected a utensil, and carved out a bite of ice cream from her dish. When he slipped the spoon into his mouth, a small, almost imperceptible hum vibrated in the back of his throat.

  He took another taste, and then, because she didn’t know what else to do, so did she.

  In the quiet of the night, they took turns choosing morsels from her bowl while beneath her lashes, she snuck glances at him, searching for clues about where he might’ve been.

  His dark hair was rumpled, but there was nothing particularly unusual about that, and the wrinkles in his cotton T-shirt were ever-present. She sucked in a deep breath, sniffing for the scent of Samantha Whitaker’s sweet perfume.

  She smelled tangy citrus and fresh pine with a hint of the body soap she’d bought last week at the store. He smelled good, the way he usually did. Like Aiden.

  Only Aiden.

  The knot her heart had twisted itself into eased a little.

  But as the large serving of ice cream shrunk to a tiny lump, his dark eyes made a study of her face.

  She ducked her chin.

  “You’re not happy about the baby,” he said.

  Her heart thrashed against her ribcage. “Of course I am.” Straightening, she shoved the bowl away. “I know you think I’m a terrible person, but I’m not th
at awful.”

  A pucker formed between his dark eyebrows. “I don’t think that.”

  “Yeah, okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say.”

  His frown deepened.

  Wielding her spoon, her hand sliced through the air. “You know, the polite thing would be to pretend you don’t hate me and just talk bad about me behind my back. It’s the way we do things here in America.”

  His mouth quirked. “Except I don’t hate you.”

  “You act like I don’t exist,” she grumbled.

  “Believe me,” he said softly, “I see you.”

  Her heart seized, then tripped into a wild rhythm. “This is the first time you’ve talked to me in, like, forever.”

  “You mean with my clothes on?”

  Heat rushed into her face and swept across her skin, raging like a wildfire.

  In response, a smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “I didn’t know you wanted to talk.”

  She lifted one shoulder. “I don’t.”

  He leaned more deeply into the counter. “What would you like to talk about?”

  “Where were you tonight?” The question burst from her.

  “Out,” he said after a telling beat of hesitation. Then, before she could demand who with, he pivoted. “What happened to your mom?”

  She sucked a sharp hiss of air between her teeth. Shock and pain nearly knocked her off the barstool, and she gripped the edge of the counter.

  Lies piled in her throat. Since her mom ran off, the lies had been Brynn’s security blanket. Because she didn’t understand what was so wrong with her that her own mother couldn’t love her, she didn’t know what she should and shouldn’t reveal about herself to others. So she lied. Compulsively. Often, and about minor, unimportant things, such as her favorite color or what she’d eaten for lunch.

  But now, the lies choked and gagged, and her mouth couldn’t form the words that’d release them.

  He watched her closely. “Did she and your dad divorce, then?” he asked gently.

  Beneath his scrutiny, the falsehoods dissolved. For first time in years, deception wasn’t an option. Not with Aiden.

  There really wasn’t any point lying to him anyway. He probably already knew the truth, if not from his mom, then surely Samantha Whitaker had filled him in on the gory details.

  She dragged a shuddering breath into her lungs and released it. “She left.”

  The hard set of his features had softened. “Where did she go?”

  “I don’t know. She was supposed to pick me up from school, but… she never showed up.” The words hung in the space between them. “It was dark by the time my dad came for me.”

  His eyes stalked her. “How old were you?”

  “Twelve.”

  A week later, she’d gotten her first period, and the two events were forever linked in Brynn’s mind. By then, Samantha Whitaker, whose mom worked in the principal’s office, had blabbed to the entire school that Brynn’s mother had run away, leaving her daughter and husband with no word of her whereabouts.

  Misery that her mom was gone and never coming back had turned to shame.

  “You don’t know where she is?” The softness in his voice pulled her away from the painful memories.

  She shook her head.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She managed a weak smile. “At least my dad’s still here.”

  With his sharp scowl, she considered how pathetic that sounded.

  “What about you?” She lifted the lid to the ice cream off the counter and fastened it onto the tub. “Did your mom and dad divorce?”

  “They were never married.” An edge cold enough to freeze ice cream crept into his voice.

  She wondered about it. Was he angry he was stuck here while his dad was an ocean away? “Do you miss him?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Don’t you like him?”

  “I don’t know. He never said more than a few words to me when I’d catch him sneaking out me ma’s bedroom.” He hitched one shoulder. “I don’t even know who he is.”

  Brynn’s throat ached. “But… your mom knows, doesn’t she?”

  “She knows.” Over his abdomen, he folded his arms. “She cursed us with the bastard’s last name, fer God’s sake. Dat’s all we know about him. His last name.”

  “Well, have you asked her who he is?”

  “I have not.”

  She blinked at him. “Aren’t you curious?”

  “I am not.” Emotion churned in his dark eyes. “He didn’t want anything to do with us, and that’s all I need to know about him.”

  Beneath Aiden’s anger, Brynn detected a note of anguish. It was faint, and he did an admirable job of hiding it, but she was far too familiar with that soul-crushing grief not to recognize it in another.

  Her chest squeezed. God, how it hurt, knowing that the people who should’ve loved you most in the world, more than anyone else and without condition, couldn’t be bothered to be present in your life.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  Surprise flickered across his face, then in a rush of activity, he scooped the empty bowl off the counter and twisted away from her.

  His back to her, he rinsed the bowl under a spray of water from the faucet. “Don’t be sorry. We’re better off without him.”

  She lugged the tub of ice cream to the refrigerator and slid it into the freezer. Turning, she let the door fall shut.

  “Tank ye for the ice cream.” He dried his hands on a towel. “I was starved.”

  “Didn’t you eat when you were out?” It was shameless, she knew, but she couldn’t keep the probing question inside.

  His dark eyes glittered but offered her nothing.

  “Fine, you don’t want to tell me.” She pretended immense boredom. “But I should warn you, Samantha Whitaker is not a nice person. She’ll make a terrible girlfriend.”

  “I’m not looking for a girlfriend.”

  Brynn’s shoulders slumped. So it was just sex, then. She didn’t think it was possible to feel worse.

  “I’m looking for—” Biting off the words, he tossed the towel on the counter.

  “What?” she asked, her heart in her throat. “What are you looking for?”

  He took so long to answer, she thought he would blow her off again.

  Then, quietly, he said, “The One.”

  She pulled a face. “Seriously?”

  Soft laughter rumbled in his chest. “Yeah, seriously.”

  Suspicious, she narrowed her eyes at him. “I didn’t know guys our age were into that sort of thing.”

  “I’m not like the other guys.”

  Boy, was that an understatement. “So, what is it you’re looking for? Besides gorgeous and stacked, that is.”

  “It has nothing to do with her looks. It’s a feeling.”

  Her mouth went dry, and she licked her lips. “What kind of feeling?”

  For a long moment, he gazed at her, and a terrible, gutting heartbreak came into his eyes. “I’ll know it when I find her.”

  With that, he pushed away from the sink.

  At the basement door, he stopped, and turned suddenly. He opened his mouth, as if he would speak, then his jaw snapped shut and he twisted away again.

  Unable to catch her breath, she could only watch as he slipped through the door.

  * * *

  Two days later, Brynn ducked past Aiden as he and Alyssa Jensen lingered outside Mr. Strickland’s classroom.

  She tried to keep her gaze averted, but from the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Alyssa’s hand on his arm, bare skin against bare skin, and her stomach roiled. In his voice, the low huskiness when he teased Alyssa that she would make him tardy for class sent Brynn’s heart plummeting to her toes.

  She plunged down the row of desks and dropped into her assigned seat.

  Looking up from his cell phone, Kyle offered her a smile. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she said.

  He shoved his phone into
his pocket and twisted in his seat. “You going to the game Friday?”

  That weekend, the school’s football team would host a neighboring rival for their annual homecoming game. Never once had Brynn attended homecoming or any other high school football game.

  “I’m still thinking about it,” she lied.

  “C.J. and I are going with some others. Do you want to come with us?”

  Surprise and terror wrestled in her throat. “I… uh… I….”

  “I’ll pick you up.” He held out a stick of chewing gum. “Say, around seven?”

  Second bell rang and just as Mr. Strickland reached out to pull the door shut, Aiden slipped through it.

  With a smile, Brynn accepted the gum from Kyle. “Yeah, okay.”

  She faced the front of the classroom, but she couldn’t hear a word of Mr. Strickland’s lecture over the shrill screeching inside her skull.

  Had Kyle Pierson just asked her out?

  It was only a football game, and he’d invited her along as part of a group with his friends, but she’d never been asked out by a boy before, even casually.

  Laughter built in her throat, and she glanced around the classroom, wondering if the world had just suddenly upended for everyone else, too.

  But no one seemed to notice that Brynn Hathaway had ceased to be a social outcast. Indeed, no one seemed to notice her at all.

  Except Aiden. From his seat two rows over, he glowered.

  She ignored him.

  By Friday night, her excitement at being asked out had morphed into a nervous, nauseating dread in the pit of her stomach.

  Why had she agreed to go out with Kyle and his friends? She barely knew them, and she had nothing in common with boys. What would they talk about? What if she said something stupid? What if she didn’t say anything at all? Would they think she was weird or stupid, or both?

  Locked in her bedroom, she tried to assemble an outfit similar to something Samantha or Alyssa might wear, but every combination she fashioned appeared more ridiculous than the last. After attempting fourteen different ensembles, she finally settled on a pair of dark wash blue jeans and a black sweater that hugged her torso.

  As she tied the laces of her white Keds, the doorbell’s chime rang throughout the house.