Page 2 of Three Stepbrothers Save Christmas

Marshall: I’m on break. Call me if you are free. Xxx

“I’m going to make a call before we get into costume. I’ll see you in a bit,” I say quickly, grabbing my bag. Danielle l looks up and smiles at me.

“Okay, save me a mirror if you get there first.”

Promising I will, I pick up my phone and head towards the courtyard, hoping for some privacy.

As soon as I’m out in the cold winter air, I pull my jacket tighter around me whilst looking for a vacant bench. Sitting down, I pull up my boyfriend's number and look at it momentarily. I promised to call him, and I want to speak to him. But something is holding me back, and I have no idea what it is.

Marshall is a lovely guy; he’s sweet and says he cares for me and all the romantic things a boyfriend should say, but I can't help wondering if he means it. It probably doesn’t help that he can be incredibly immature and likes to tell his friends he is with a tall, blonde, skinny ballerina. Sometimes, I feel he is with me for how I look on his arm rather than who I am. Not that I think I’m anything special because I know I’m not. Especially compared to the likes of Jasmine and Danielle. But I have the typical innocent girl look, which men seem to find attractive. Marshall loves to tell me how jealous his friends are that he is with someone like me. Yet, he never comes to any of my performances to support me or even seem remotely interested in my dancing. Maybe I’m looking too deep into this.

There again, my own father hasn’t seen me dance in years, but he will boast to all his friends that I will be the “next big thing”, and I know he loves the recordings I send him of the productions. I wish it were easier for him to come and watch them in person. Maybe with him coming back next week, he’ll be able to watch one of the shows? Then he could finally watch me like I always wish he would.

My mum was the one who got me into dancing. It was always something we shared. I used to love watching her dance, and I hope I look as graceful as she did. Dad always said she looked like a goddess when she danced, and he was right. We used to watch her together in the makeshift studio she created. She loved it when I watched her practice on my Dad’s lap. I loved those times, too. I think that’s why my father doesn’t watch me dance anymore, as it reminds him too much of my mum.

Miriam Stevenson was a loving and caring woman; everyone who met her instantly liked and loved having her around. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for anyone, especially me. In every memory of her, she is smiling, laughing, dancing, or combining all three. My mum became ill and died quickly when I was seven years old. She had a brain tumour, and there was nothing the doctors could do to help her. There were only a few months between her getting diagnosed and dying. I know now that it was a blessing, as she could have suffered for years. But I still miss her daily, and I know my dad does, too.

Around that time, my father started working away more, and I saw less and less of him. It’s not like he neglects me. He ensures I have the best of everything; I want for nothing, and I get to live in a big house without paying any bills. I attend the best dance school in the UK and have wonderful friends who I would do anything for. But even though I have so much, I miss my parents. When Mum died, a part of Dad died with her, and I don’t think he will ever get that part back. He was left heartbroken by her death, and I thought he would never recover. Then, five years ago, he announced he was getting married to a woman he met through work.

Linda Donavon is a widow whose husband was killed in a car accident, leaving her with their three sons: Travis, Ryan and Ethan. They are all quite a bit older than me. Travis is ten years older at thirty-one. Ryan is seven years older, and Ethan is five. I only met them once before the wedding.

I get along with my stepmother; she seems like she loves my father, but they aren’t home enough for me to build an actual relationship with her. I am probably closer to her sons than I will ever be with her. I don’t hear from them all the time, and I can go weeks before Ryan or Ethan message. Travis has been checking up on me more since my drink was spiked, but I’m sure he only does that because my father would have asked him to keep an eye on me. The Donavon brothers spend the odd weekend here and there at my house, but even then, they seem to go about doing their own thing. I wish sometimes we were closer, and then maybe they would visit a bit more often. I like it when they are around. They are fun, and we always have a laugh. It’s nice not being the only person in that big house. I never admit it out loud, but it can sometimes get lonely.

I take a deep breath and look at my phone again. I have ten minutes before I have to start getting ready for the show, so I might as well do something during that time. I tap on the screen and hold the phone to my ear. Hoping to still catch Marshall on his break.

2

Verity

Exhausted and aching, I drive home, looking forward to having some company tonight, as Marshall messaged to say he is on his way around.

The performance went well, as it always does. No one would dare to mess up; otherwise, Mrs Florence would have us all back at the studio at the crack of dawn for extra rehearsals. No one wants that this late in the year; we are all exhausted as it is.

As I pull up in front of the house, I notice a car in the driveway and lights on inside the house. My body comes alive with excitement as I park next to the strange car and grab my keys before jumping out. Rushing to the front door, I unlock it with shaking hands, hopping from one foot to the other, desperate to get inside as quickly as possible. There’s only one person it could be, and I can’t believe he tricked me by saying he would be home next week.

“Dad!” I slam the door shut behind me. I listen out for any noise and hear something from the kitchen. Rushing forward, almost tripping over my own feet, I race to where I know he must be.

“Dad, you’re home!” I call excitedly, only to come to a screeching stop.

“Well, I can be your daddy if you want me to be, Baby Girl.” Ethan, the younger of my stepbrothers, grins at me as he stands at the counter, making himself a sandwich. I drop my bag on the floor as my heart breaks a little.

“I thought you were someone else,” I murmur, trying to hide my disappointment but failing miserably as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge behind him.

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” he replies, looking over his shoulder as I turn to face him. “Am I not even going to get a hello?” he asks with one arched brow. I smile slightly as I step beside him to kiss his cheek.

“Hello, Ethan.”

“That’s more like it,” he winks before returning to his sandwich. “I filled the fridge for you, by the way. There was nothing in there.” I can hear the accusation in his tone.

“Thanks, I’ve been eating out most of the time cause of the shows. I was going to go shopping tomorrow,” I lie, trying to ignore how he’s watching me. I wait for him to call me out but relax when he hums deep in his throat.

“How come you’re here? Have I missed something?” I ask, walking around the other side of the counter he’s standing over to build his chicken salad sandwich.

“Mum called last night saying they would be home next week and wanted to see us all. I have some potential clients in this area, so I thought I’d come early and kill two birds with one stone.”

It’s not the first time one of them has come to stay for business reasons. Ethan and Ryan are personal trainers with a high price tag, meaning all their clients are super rich. They do online sessions as well as one-to-one. They are amazing at the job, and both helped me recover from a dancing injury a couple of years ago. They are both fully trained PTs and physios, specialising in sports injuries.

“So, the others aren’t with you?” I ask, reaching over and grabbing a slice of the tomato he’s cutting. He slaps my hand away and sighs before passing me the other slice as I smile sweetly at him. Ethan always gives me what I want, not that I ask for much. But if I ever do, he gives in quicker than I can blink.

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