Page 7 of Three Stepbrothers Save Christmas

Marshall lets out a small groan as I climb out of the bed.

“I’m just cleaning up. I’ll be back,” I whisper. I'm unsure why I’m bothering, and he hums slightly and goes back to sleep. He usually falls asleep straight after sex, and is a heavy sleeper.

Heading to my bathroom, I make quick work of cleaning myself up. As I thought, he must have cut me slightly as there’s a tiny bit of blood on the tissue, and I do hurt slightly. It’s not the first time it’s happened. Marshall is a nail-biter, which means his nails are rough. We have discussed it before, but he seems to have forgotten tonight. He seemed to forget about a lot.

Grabbing my dressing gown off the back of the door, I head out of the room, needing something to help me sleep and some painkillers to help with the throbbing between my legs. A couple of tablets and a little time, and I know it will heal quickly; it always does.

I’m so lost in my own world that I don’t notice Ethan until I’m right behind him. My heart freezes as I go to turn around and hide from him.

“Don’t bother, Baby Girl. I know you’re there,” he teases, looking over his shoulder and winking. “I’m heading down for a cup of tea; do you want one?” he asks, nodding towards the ground floor. I nod, unable to look him in the eye. “Come on then,” he says, putting an arm around my shoulders and guiding me downstairs.

“Go and sit over there; I’ll bring one over.” He walks over to the hot drinks station I set up last year. “Any particular one?” he asks, pointing to the varieties before him.

“Camomile, please,” I answer, anxiously waiting for him to say he heard my disastrous sex life through the walls. There’s no way he didn’t unless he had headphones in. I’m so embarrassed. I can feel my cheeks burning. I should have gone back to bed. I’m still thinking of getting up, telling him to forget the tea and leave.

“Here you go.” Ethan places the cup in front of me and sits with his own. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you have more tea and coffee than food in. I hope you are eating properly.”

I nod, not looking up from my cup.

“When I’m on my own, it's easier and cheaper to grab things as I need them. During show weeks, we get food from the deli across the road from the theatre between rehearsals and shows. Food goes to waste if it’s here, as I’m always there.”

“That makes sense. As long as you promise me you are eating properly.”

I don’t miss the concern in his voice, so I force myself to flash him a smile as I nod.

“I promise.”

Ethan watches me for a moment before nodding in acceptance, and I let out a silent breath, relieved to have avoided that conversation.

“So, want to talk about what just happened upstairs?”

My heart drops to my stomach as my whole body burns with embarrassment.

“No, Ethan. I don’t. Especially with you,” I sigh, getting up and pulling painkillers out of the medicine drawer.

“Did he hurt you?” Ethan demands, watching me. I shake my head, swallow the tablets quickly and look back at my tea as I sit back in the chair.

“I’ve had a headache all evening, which isn’t getting any better,” I lie smoothly. Why didn’t I go back upstairs when I had the chance? “Please just leave it. It’s not usually like that,” I start, but Ethan stops me by putting his hand on my arm.

“I’m not saying a word. I have told you what I think of him, and I know if I push it, you will snap at me again. I’m just worried about you. Something seems different.” Ethan reaches over and hooks a finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything?”

I can feel my mood shifting again as I start getting annoyed. What's the point in talking to him about anything? It’s not like he is here for me, or to help me. He’s here for his convenience and his convenience only.

“I’m going back to bed. Thanks for the tea.” I stand from the seat, but Ethan also jumps up, blocking my path to the stairs.

“Baby Girl, speak to me.” I wish I believed he was truly worried about me, but I don’t. People say they want to help, but they really want to make themselves feel better.

“There’s nothing to say, so drop it. I’m tired, and I want to go to sleep. Good night, Ethan.” This time, as I step to the side, he thankfully doesn’t try and stop me.

I’m out of the kitchen and halfway up the stairs before the sound of a cup being thrown into the sink rings out, followed by Ethan cursing. Stopping for a moment, I consider going back to check on him, but instead, I continue up to my room, where Marshall is still sleeping soundly.

Walking over to my chest of drawers, I pull out an old t-shirt to wear to bed. I know I need to talk to him about tonight and the last few weeks. Things need to change, and I hope it isn’t in a way that ends with me being alone again. If there is anything I hate, it’s the amount of time I have to spend alone.

5

Verity

I wake up and look at Marshall, who is still sleeping soundly. Last night, after coming to bed, I lay here thinking about how the night had gone. He had been selfish, which left me feeling confused and, in all honesty, hurt. He hardly spoke to me at dinner, and the only time he paid me any attention was when we were on the way back here. He only came for the sex, and that was abysmal, to say the least. What makes the whole thing worse is that Ethan heard the entire thing. All three minutes of it. Isn’t that just perfect?

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