VULTURE (a Stepbrother Romance) (9 page)

T
he next morning
the coldness of the room woke me. A chilly breeze wafted inside, and I shivered. I pulled at the covers, inclined my head to the side and studied the time. It was past noon. I reached up and planted both of my palms against my face, feeling a sense of loss as last night’s events came crashing down upon me.
Where was Harvey?

A vague memory surfaced in my mind of his lips on the back of my neck and my shoulders, his fingers exploring and stroking the length of my arms, but as I re-examined the vision, it faded away at the edges, and a hazy fog obscured the view.
It was just a dream
, I told myself. And yet I dimly recalled me telling him to stop… to go.
Fuck, why couldn’t I remember?

Somewhere, echoing from downstairs, I heard a loud beep, and my sister’s voice came hurtling out of the answering machine. I groaned as I listened to message.

My sister’s voice stopped abruptly, and I presumed that was the end of the message. I slumped back down into the covers and stared up at the ceiling.

Time disappeared like sand through open fingers, and I didn’t realise that I’d fallen asleep again. When I awoke for the second time that day, the room was dark, with only a stream of moonlight giving shape to the furniture.

Loud protestations came from my grumbling belly, but I ignored them and fell back down to my pillows, tears streaming down my cheeks as I thought of my mom. Nothing would make the grief I felt inside my chest fade away, not food, not water. Perhaps there was one thing, but he wasn’t here. He’d left, even though he said he’d be here.

I closed my eyes again, and by the time I resurfaced, my stomach ached from the lack of food. I didn’t know what day it was. I tried to make myself move, thought about swinging my legs off the bed and hauling my ass out to the bathroom and taking a shower. But I didn’t do anything. I merely lay there and stared into open space.

Shit, shit, shit!
I thought as the message ended. That was today? How could I have let the days slip by? And where the hell was Harvey? He should be here, demanding that I get out of bed.

Warring with myself whether I should show up to see them lay my mother in the ground, her body buried in mud, as they had done with Eric’s, I felt bile travel up my throat.

I couldn’t face it; it would be the end of me. Not another funeral so soon after Eric’s! I envisaged the white flowers, lilies no doubt, strewn over the white coffin that I knew Anita would’ve chosen. And the people and their sad, pitying faces. No. I couldn’t. I was being selfish, but it would kill me…

I continued to debate with myself, as if there was going to be a different outcome each time, anxiety building. Telling myself that I should get up now or miss the ceremony. But instead I just lay in my bed, numb. Tears poured down my face, frozen against the time that continued to tick by.

I awoke to the sound of loud footsteps thudding up the stairs, and for brief second, hope entered my head.
Harvey?
But a lurid calling of my name brought a quick end to that. Anita came into the room, fists clenched by her sides. There was fury and determination in her steps.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she yelled.

My head pounded, and I winced from the pain. “Lower your voice, Anita,” I said, my voice coming out as a croak. “I have a migraine.”

My words seemed to infuriate her more. “Keep it down? Do you even hear yourself, Sara?”

“Please,” I begged.

“You have some fucking nerve. Why didn’t you come to the funeral?”

“I couldn’t bring myself to go, Anita,” I said, rubbing one of my temples. “Not another one.” It was self-preservation, I failed to add, knowing she’d never understand. She’d never had to deal with anything but light in her life.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” my sister continued, ignoring my request to lower her voice. “Do you think it was easy on us? Easy on me?”

“I never said that. This is not about you, Anita. I couldn’t handle the grief.”

Anita stared at me as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You don’t see me giving up, do you? I have kids to look after. I can’t afford to crumble, Sara.”

I shook my head and sent locks of hair flying across my face. I brushed them away. “I’m not as strong as you, Anita. I’m different; we’ve both known that since we were little. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, I absorb the pain, and you just brush it off—water off a duck’s back.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Grow up! I can’t look after you and my family and everyone else, too. I’m not some superwoman, Sara.”

“I’m not asking you to look after me!” I yelled, surprised at my own voice. It was stronger now than it had ever been. “I never have. You just choose to think everyone needs you. Well, I don’t!”

She gasped at the words I’d spoken, and my head reeled with pain from the noise I’d inflicted upon it. Anita threw up her hands and turned on her heels without another word. I stared after her receding back, finally feeling like I was finally making some progress in my life.

L
oud screaming sounded
through the brick walls and greeted me as I stood at the front door. If it weren’t for Sara, I would’ve turned my back on this drama-fuelled nightmare of a family. I was a glutton for punishment, though; I just couldn’t keep away from her.

The others weren’t worth my time. Fuck knows how my father put up with it, I thought. Mind, I’ve never understood him, anyway. He let my skank of a mother walk all over him; why should his new family be any different? I should give him a break, though. He’s never really been lucky in love, and now that Victoria was gone, the twins were all he had left. Well, except for me.

Angry voices continued to echo down the stairs as I let myself into Sara’s house. The moment I stepped inside I knew that something was wrong. This wasn’t the typical sisterly screaming match I’d grown accustomed to.

I wandered towards the kitchen instead of going straight upstairs. I wanted to give Sara some room to stick up for herself. Stacks of plates covered the sink. The repulsive smell of a full bin, neglected, wafted in the air. I backed away from the odour and walked into the living room, gritting my teeth as Anita continued to hurl abuse at her sister.

Lines of photos decorated the white walls. The bright faces of Sara and Eric and the memory of their grins and laughter echoed throughout the whole room. During the last few years, she had always made it her mission to tell everyone that this was her favourite part of the house, where she was surrounded by photographic memories. But something had never felt quite right when Eric was alive. Sara always seemed on edge, her eyes flickering to her husband’s every time she uttered a single syllable, as if she were looking for his approval. Or gauging his reaction—studying him as if he were a kettle on the boil.

A sudden ache blossomed in my chest as I viewed their wedding photo at the centre of the display. There was a tiny part of me that didn’t like seeing Sara with any man. I couldn’t imagine her enfolded in Eric’s arms, or any man’s at all. Or maybe I just didn’t want to.

The only arms that should be wrapped round her body were mine. She’d invited me into her bed the other night, and god only knows I never wanted to leave it. I wondered if she remembered as clearly as I did. The room was dark, making it feel that if something happened, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway because it would be absorbed into the blackness of the night, never to be spoken of again. My legs and arms had covered her own; I held her body tight, close, and contained against my muscular chest. Her curvaceous bottom filled up the empty space between us, pressing into my groin, demanding attention.

I’d struggled to control myself, wanting nothing more than to strip her naked and take away all the pain she was feeling. Make her feel like there was some light at the end of the tunnel of this dreadful year. But I’d gone too far, lost myself in her warm scent. She’d fallen asleep, and I couldn’t resist brushing my lips against the back of her bare neck, tasting her for the first time.

She’d moaned softly. My dick reacted as if it was the most natural thing on earth to do. I did it again, and her breath suddenly changed tempo, no longer the smooth intakes you hear when someone’s in deep sleep, but controlled, tense, alert… Sara woke and my heart pounded, reverberating against her back as I waited for her reaction.

I shouldn’t have kissed her again.

I shook the thought aside and chuckled beneath my breath. What was I worrying about, anyway? Sara was not my type. It was only natural for a man to react in such a way while lying in bed with a woman—wasn’t it? Of course it was.

Yes. Sara will never be my type. She’s the complete opposite of what I want.

More shouting from above caught my attention. Enough was enough. I’d given Sara enough time to grow a backbone and stand up to her sister. I reached the stairs and took the steps in two as I climbed until I reached the brash, angry voices.

I craned my head to hear Anita screaming at Sara. Her tone was harsh and cruel, and I didn’t like it one bit.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” Anita called out.

My hands balled into a pair of fists, and I saw a flash of red. Why Anita caused this reaction in me I don’t know. Or maybe it was more obvious than that… maybe it wasn’t Anita at all that was provoking the reaction, maybe it was Sara.

Finally, Sara shouted back, and I smiled.

Anita came storming out of Sara’s room, her footsteps loud and livid. Behind her the door slammed shut, and the click of a lock sounded.

Anita walked past me and seemed to take a breath as she noticed me standing in the middle of the landing.

She glared at me with her red face. Her cheeks puffed out and her breathing was ragged, as if she’d run a marathon and couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

“You causing trouble again?” I asked, holding back what I really wanted to say.

“Me? I’m not the one missing funerals! Go talk some sense into her. She’s clearly needing a touch of reality.”

“That’s not what Sara needs right now, Anita. You of all people should know that.” I held my hand up as she started to open her mouth again. “She needs support, not your bloody abuse.”

“Fuck you, Harvey. You go and support her then. She’s acting like a spoiled brat, and I’m the one in the wrong?”

“There’s more going on with her than you realise. And I know you’re grieving, too, but she’s been hit hard these last months, so why don’t you get off your high moral horse and have some fucking compassion for the person you shared a womb with?”

“I don’t have to stand here and listen to this.” Anita began to march down the stairs, her back turned to me.

“You’re right. Why don’t you fuck off, Anita! I’m sure Sara will call you if she ever wants to speak to you again.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. I hadn’t meant to turn on full-on offensive mode, but I couldn’t help it.

Rubbing a throbbing spot around my temple, I knocked on Sara’s bedroom door, and I heard a faint rustling in the background.

“Sara,” I said, “it’s me.”

“Go away, Harvey,” she grumbled.

“I’m not going to do that. You have to come out of this room or I’ll burst in. Your choice.” It was low of me to make such threat, but if anything, Anita was partially right. Sara did need some talking to.

“You have till the count of three, Sara,” I warned.

“Just leave me alone!”

“One.”

“I’m serious! Go away!” she responded, though her voice sounded unsure.

“So am I. Two.”

“Don’t even think about it—” she cried. I turned, facing away from the door and donkey kicked at its weak spot. The flimsy lock gave way after a few hard kicks.

“Harvey! What the hell…?”

I grinned; there was nothing like acting like a crazed caveman to get me all worked up. I walked towards her, ready to grab her out from under the covers she’d buried herself beneath. “I warned you.”

“But I didn’t think you were actually going to do it,” she said in a muffled voice. Only her eyes were visible; her body was covered, nowhere in sight.

“You can’t stay in here forever, Sara,” I said, as I searched under the duvet, ready to grab a limb the moment I found one.

“I know,” she muttered quietly but then squealed and kicked her legs as I found and claimed an ankle.

“Stop squirming!” I yelled as I managed to get control of her other foot. I pulled, and half her body, the upper half, disappeared beneath the sheets, while the other half, her legs, were dragged out across the bed.

“Let me go, Harvey!” Sara screamed. She managed to twist and turn her body so that she was now on her stomach, and her hands took hold of the edge of the mattress. I pulled, and she hung on.

I had a perfect view of her round bottom, tight in her little pyjama shorts. I ran the tip of my tongue across my bottom lip.

“Don’t make me spank you, Sara,” I growled, wanting nothing but.

“You fucking wouldn’t dare!”

No, she was right. As much as I wanted to slap my hand across her cute bottom and watch it wiggle from the contact, potentially leaving a bright red mark against her lily-white ass, now definitely wasn’t the time. And god only knows what would happen if I gave in to what my cock was demanding.

“Tell you what. I’ll let you go on one condition. You take a shower and come downstairs,” I said.

“But I don’t want to.”

“Stop being a brat, Sara.” I let her go, and she turned onto her back to look at me. That got her attention. Her eyes bored into mine.

“I hate you,” she said, frowning, her eyes thinning into two little lines.

“Liar. Come on, I’ll make you something to eat, too.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

With that, I left her alone and went downstairs. Mission accomplished, I thought when I heard the pipes knock from the sound of water travelling up to the shower in the upstairs bathroom.