Page 12 of Jealous Stepbrother

I don’t want that to happen. My decisions, my consequences.

My mind is tangled in a mess of worries, doubt, and overthinking. I can’t sort them out.

The drive to Dad’s mansion is a blur, and even with the windows open, which I usually love, I can’t seem to get into a better mood. After this breakfast, I might just bury myself in the mattress and sleep the whole day. Or the whole week.

I arrive in the exclusive neighborhood where every house has at least a few acres of land, an Olympic-sized pool, tennis court, or a luxurious home theater. It’s a place I don’t belong and never will, and that’s okay with me.

I park beside Dad’s Aston Martin. My Toyota Camry looks laughable beside his sports car, which is priced north of $200,000. The vehicle can pay for the rest of my college and let me provide for Mom for the rest of her life, but oh well, that’s life, I guess. It’s never fair.

My mind is still elsewhere as I walk to the massive front door, and I barely notice the footsteps behind me, soft but deliberate. It’s not until I catch a shadow alongside mine that my stomach drops, and I whirl around, my heart pounding like a drum.

I freeze, gripping my keys tightly, the cold metal pressing into my palm.

It’s the guy from the country club, the one who wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’s at least in his late 30s, with a messy mop of brown hair and a beard covering half his face. At the party, I didn’t mind him too much. I realize just now that he’s so much bigger than I thought. I don’t have heels on, so I’m standing at only 5’8. He’s at least 6’. He may not be as muscular as Callum, but I’m still no match for him.

Fear creeps up my spine, and every instinct yells at me to run.

“Look what your brother did to me.” He points to his bandaged hand, which he might have injured when he bumped into the statue. Telling him he deserves it is at the tip of my tongue. He was acting creepy. I tried to be polite, but he immediately took that as an invitation to act like a total pervert, invading my space and forcing me to give him my number. “He’s your brother, right?”

“No, he’s not.”

He tilts his head slightly. His smile isn’t friendly, as if he knows something I don’t. “He sure acted like a jealous boyfriend. I mean, do your parents know that you’re fucking each other when they’re not looking?”

I mask the fear by glaring at him and standing straighter. “Stay away from me. I’ll call the cops. Dad is also inside.”

“Why? I mean, just go out with me. Let’s go in the car. After all, you’ve been teasing me for two days straight.”

Cold and sharp panic grips me. I can just scream as loud as possible and run to the door, but my body feels rooted to the ground, my mouth refusing to open.

“You don’t remember, do you?” He sighs dramatically, shakes his head, and takes a step closer. “You danced on my lap and ground your ass against my cock back in the reception. Then, you flirted with me at the country club. Why do you look so scared now? Afraid of what happens when you string men along?”

“Stay away from me. I didn’t flirt with you, and a dance was just a dance. It didn’t mean anything.”

He reaches his hand to me, but it’s wrenched away immediately. A sharp inhale cuts through me as I see Callum gripping the other guy’s arm and twisting it behind him. The guy loses his cockiness. He may be stronger than me, but Callum is a lot stronger than him.

Callum’s jaw is set, his eyes burning with anger. When he turns to me, though, his gaze softens. “You okay, Car?”

I can only nod. Relief crashes over me so sudden and strong that it leaves me weak. I exhale a shaky breath I didn’t know I was holding, and my hands tremble.

Callum watches me closely, and when he’s satisfied I’m not hurt, he whirls the other guy and unleashes a barrage of punches that makes him fall to the ground. At first, he shields his face with his arms, but Callum is relentless. He doesn’t stop, not even as blood gushes out of the other guy’s nose.

“Callum! Jesus Christ, what are you doing? Stop!” Someone shrieks beside me, and I turn to find his mom, dressed in a Victorian nightgown no less, her hair perfectly coiffed already, a light dusting of blush on her cheeks, and a swipe of lip gloss.

Callum backs away and props both hands on his waist. He’s breathing hard, sweat dotting his forehead. “He’s been trying to force Caroline into his car. Sick pervert.”

The other guy manages to laugh and choke on his blood. “At least she’s not my stepsister.”

The silence is so loud I can hear a pin drop. Dad steps forward, his eyes flitting from Callum to me. “What is he saying? What does he mean?”

His mom rushes to Dad’s side, pulling on his pajama sleeve as if he can explain everything to her. “What is going on here, Kristoff? What is he talking about?”

Dad’s cold eyes slant to me before he lunges and jerks my arm. It’s so painful that for a moment, I think my shoulder has popped off its socket. “Caroline, you answer?—”

He doesn’t get to finish as Callum positions himself between Dad and me, Callum’s bigger hand wrapping around Dad’s wrist. “Let her go.” Callum’s voice has taken on a dangerous, menacing edge.

Dad, as usual, is as oblivious as ever to Callum’s mounting rage. Dad’s inability to read the room is astounding. “She is my daughter. I will do what I want to her.”

Callum tightens his grip until Dad winces and lets go. “Try. See if I’ll let you.”

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