Page 121 of Three Stepbrothers Save Christmas

“Well, if you ever change my mind, you know where to find me.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I end the call and head back into the lounge, where the other two are holding a crying Verity.

Kneeling on the floor in front of her, I place my hand on her knee and squeeze slightly.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart.”

“Are you?” she asks, looking back at me. “You wanted him dead.”

“I’m not sorry that he’s gone. You don’t try and force your child into an arranged marriage with a woman beater to save yourself twenty mill.” Verity stares at me as I cup her cheek. “But, I am sorry that you are hurting. I’m sorry you had to find out what he was really like and how badly he treated you. I’m sorry any of this happened to you. You don’t deserve it, as you are one of the kindest, most loyal people I have ever met. I am sorry I can’t take this pain from you.”

Verity continues to look at me from Ryan’s arms for a moment, and I start to worry this will affect how she sees me. I could have done more to save him, but I didn’t want to. Was that wrong of me? Possibly. But all I could see was what he had done and said to her. In my eyes, he didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her.

I move to leave her in peace with her Bear and Ethan, but she surprises me by diving off the sofa, throwing her arms around my neck and crying into my shoulder.

“Sweetheart,” I sigh as I hold her back just as tight as she clings to me. “Whatever you need to come to terms with this. No matter how small, we are here for you. Nothing will ever be as important to us as giving you what you need. All you have to do is ask,” I whisper into her hair while pressing my lips against her head. Verity leans back a little and looks at me.

“I want to go back to the house.”

63

Verity

The world flies by as Travis drives us back to my childhood home.

We pass families playing in the streets, children riding on new bikes or skateboards, or just walking hand in hand with their parents. There are so many happy families, and I see everything I longed for and never had.

Why? Why did he continue to pretend otherwise if he hated me so much? If I was that much of a disappointment and burden to him, why didn’t he make me feel less loved? Was it all just for money?

I watch a couple walking down the street hand in hand, their young child rushing ahead of them on their bike. Their little legs move so fast as they peddle. I bet they think they could outrun any car with their parents cheering them on.

I don’t have any memories of our family like that. I’m sure there were moments before Mum died, but I was too young to remember.

The last few days, I have pushed back all thoughts and memories of my parents. I wasn’t ready to face them and wanted to enjoy my time with the guys. Thankfully, I have years of practice when it comes to putting on a front. This time, I even convinced the guys I was coping with everything. Okay, I may not have convinced them as much as I like to think, but I'm sure there were times when they were none the wiser.

“How you doing, Baby?” Ethan's hand on my shoulder reminds me that he and Ryan are sitting in the back, probably watching my every move.

“I’m okay,” I answer on instinct.

“Want to try that again without lying?” Ryan asks. I turn slightly in my seat to see him watching me.

“Did I ever tell you you’re starting to get the ‘daddy look’ down to a tee?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood slightly. It doesn’t work for them or me.

“As good as Daddy’s?” he asks as the cocked brow gets higher. I glance at Travis beside me, who gives me his best Daddy look as he stops to let other traffic out.

“You didn’t answer his first question.”

“No, Daddy’s is scarier,” I admit as I sink into my chair before looking back to Ryan. “I don’t know how I’m doing. Better?”

“I guess so.” I can see he’s about to say more, so I turn back in my seat. I’m facing forward, not giving him a chance. Travis reaches over and takes my hand resting on my lap.

“We understand you have no idea what to feel right now. Everything you have ever known has been pulled out from under you. So, when we check in on you, we aren’t expecting you to know how you feel. It’s more a ‘what do you need’ kind of question.”

I open my mouth to tell him he has no idea how I’m feeling, but then I remember he does; they all do. They lost their father ten years ago, leaving them with a mother who would put anything over her sons. Isn’t that basically the same as what my father did?

“Sorry,” I whisper, looking down at my hand, engulfed in his. Travis lifts it and presses a kiss to my knuckles.

“You don’t have to apologise. Never apologise for being honest with us, even if you are screaming it in our faces; you are letting us know how you are feeling, which is a privilege you haven’t had before.”

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