Stepbrother Untouchable Page 16

  How long can this situation last? I wonder as I walk quietly down the stairs. I feel like we're all tightly-wound strings, and one of us is bound to break sometime. I know I for one can't keep creeping around the house like this, avoiding everyone.

  In the kitchen, I fix myself a grilled cheese sandwich, feeling the need for some comfort food. I'm just turning off the stove top when I hear the door to Pierce's study open. I hurry to grab the spatula and slide the sandwich onto my plate before he comes in, but I'm too late.

  “Brynn,” he says from the doorway. “We missed you at dinner.”

  Ugh, that asshole, acting like nothing happened. “Just fixing something now,” I answer shortly. As I put the spatula and pan into the sink, I see over my shoulder that he's walking toward me. He plants himself between the island and the fridge, trapping me by the counter.

  “Your mother is very upset,” he tells me, his eyebrow bending into a concerned frown.

  “Is she?” I ask through gritted teeth. If he expects me to apologize, as though her mood is my fault, then he's mistaken.

  “Brynn, I think you've gotten the wrong idea about me,” he murmurs, taking another step toward me. I reluctantly turn to face him. “You have no idea how hard it is for a man, to have a beautiful woman like you in the house.”

  “I'm your stepdaughter, Pierce,” I practically growl as my heartbeat jumps in my chest.

  “You've really blossomed this summer, Brynn. You've become a woman,” he says, stepping into me. I can feel his warm breath on my face.

  “I want you to get away from me,” I whisper, my throat tightening.

  “Just for a moment…I need to feel…” he moans pitifully, sliding his hand onto my hip and then over my ass. My anger ignites at his touch, blasting away my fear. I get my arms up between us and shove him away.

  “Get off me, you fucking asshole!” I scream. He looks at me in shock. “You think you're some gentleman with your fancy suits and your mansion, but inside you're just some sick pervert, taking advantage of anyone you can. I see who you really are, even if no one else does.”

  His face twists with anger, and I feel my cheek light up with pain before my brain can process that he's slapped me. I bring my hand up to my burning face, my head still pulled to the side, just as Pierce disappears in a blur.

  I straighten up with a gasp as I realize Nate has just tackled him to the floor, and they are now grappling fiercely on the kitchen tiles.

  “Don't you fucking touch her!” he yells at his father, whose face is turning red in an effort to defend himself against his much stronger son. I hear footsteps from the stairwell and see my mom running down the hallway and manage to unfreeze myself.

  “Nate! Nate, stop!” I yell, as he manages to find the top position. My mom screams as Nate punches Pierce hard across his jaw. I throw myself on Nate's back as he cocks his arm back in preparation for another punch. “Nate, I'm OK, I'm OK,” I repeat in his ear. I feel him relax a little and begin to pull him up. He drops his arm and stands up with me. Pierce pushes him away as he stands up, too, and they face off, each breathing heavily, Pierce with a trail of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

  “What's going on?” my mom finally whispers, her voice full of fear.

  “I saw everything,” Nate growls, addressing his father. “You hypocrite.”

  To my shock, Pierce begins to laugh. “I knew it, I knew it! Look at you two!” he says, pointing at us.

  “What's he talking about?” my mom asks, glancing at me.

  “They're fucking!” Pierce bursts out.

  “No…what?” my mom murmurs.

  “Oh, Christ, Holly, are you really that fucking stupid? You didn't even suspect?”

  My mom shakes her head. “That's why you're fighting?”

  “No,” Nate says, turning to her. “I saw him trying to feel up Brynn, and then she told him to stop, and he slapped her.”

  A look of horror spreads across my mom's face. She looks at me, then at Pierce.

  “Is this true? Is it true?” Pierce doesn't even bother responding to her accusations, just turns his palms upward and shrugs. A wailing cry escapes my mom's lips. For a second I think she's going to collapse, but then she throws herself at Pierce, her limbs a blur as she attacks him. “I trusted you! I trusted you!” she screams. Pierce puts his arms up to defend himself as Nate steps forward and wraps his arms around her, hemming her in and then pulling her away. “My own daughter! My own daughter, you son of a bitch!”

  With a strangled cry, she turns her head and begins to sob against Nate's chest. Pierce surveys the three of us, aligned against him on the other side of the kitchen.

  “Nothing?” Nate whispers, as he rubs my mom's shoulder. “You have nothing to say for yourself?”

  “Come on, Nate. You're really going to believe them?” Pierce says, a sneer of contempt on his face.

  “I don't have to—I saw you with my own eyes. But I should have believed Brynn in the first place,” Nate says quietly, though I can hear the strength in his voice. Pierce can only manage a snort of derision before he walks toward the hallway. “My mother,” Nate says, and Pierce stops, his back still toward his son. “You made everything up, didn't you?”

  Pierce stands frozen for a moment, his head slightly cocked to the side. I can't see his face, and can't imagine what could be going on inside his mind. His carefully crafted history, now falling apart around him. He shakes his head slightly, as if waving away an unpleasant smell, then continues to walk down the hallway. He heads straight to the front door, and shuts it behind him. As we hear the sound of his car heading down the driveway, my mom straightens up, and Nate's arms fall to his sides.

  “I need to be alone for a little while,” she murmurs, her gaze on the floor, and walks unsteadily toward the stairs. I watch her leave, wishing she had the strength to comfort me for even a moment.

  “She's just in shock,” Nate says, reading my mind like always.

  “I know,” I reply with a nod, struggling to keep myself together.

  “I should have believed you.”

  “I had no reason to lie.”

  “I know. I just couldn't believe he was capable of that kind of thing, or maybe I didn't want to believe.”

  “You said some awful things to me today. God, was that just today?” I ask with a sad laugh, reaching up to rub my forehead.

  “I'm so sorry, Brynn. I was angry…sometimes my temper…I didn't mean any of those things. The time we've spent together—” he says, taking a step toward me.

  “No, no. I'm not ready for that. I don't know if we can go back…” I murmur, a tear slipping down my face.

  “Brynn, please, I can't lose you.”

  “You were so ready to turn on me,” I whisper. “So ready to push me away and be done with me.”

  “I was in shock at seeing her again. I didn't actually mean it.”

  “But you said it, didn't you? The way I care about you…I would never treat you that way, would never want you to hurt. But you wanted me to hurt. You don't feel the way about me that I feel about you. You can't.”

  “That's not true! You have no idea how much I care about—”

  “I love you.” There's a long silence. I stare up into his beautiful face, my heart shattering as he doesn't reply. He just looks back down at me, some unknowable emotion flickering across his eyes. “Well, there you go. There you go. Goodbye, Nate,” I say, turning my back to him. He doesn't move.

  “What are you going to do?” he finally asks quietly.

  “Um, well,” I begin with a cold laugh. “I think I'm going to eat this cold grilled cheese sandwich, and then I'm going to start packing.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I survey my mom's old beat-up station wagon. Both the car and our old house were just on the verge of being sold, but my mom was able to back out. Luckily she was taking her time in the process because she didn't think she had to worry about money anymore. The car isn't even full—the only things
that belonged to us here were our clothes and some knick-knacks. It only took me a few hours this morning to pack it up. It's both sad and comforting. Our old life is still waiting for us, almost as though this whole summer never happened.

  But of course it did. I wondered last night if I would take these last few months back if I could. If I were given a magic wand that could make it so that my mom had never met Pierce, that I'd returned to our old house for the summer, that my relationship with Nate had never gone beyond that encounter in the crew house, would I wave it?

  I don't know if I've ever felt so much pain as I have recently, but also never so much happiness. I was held in such a tight little shell before, never really experiencing the depths or heights of anything, and I suppose you can't have one without the other.

  To never have held Nate in my arms…no, I can't imagine it. Despite so many terrible things having happened, I would never want to erase the time I spent with him, even if it would take away the pain I'm feeling right now. The pain that I can feel even in my bones, causing a throbbing ache throughout my whole body. It's like I'm detoxing from some powerful, addictive substance. One that I know only hurts me in the end.

  I catch a glimpse of my slightly swollen lip in the car window from where Pierce hit me last night. We haven't seen him today—he must be holed up at a friend's house or a hotel. I don't even want to think of the divorce proceedings that my mom will be wrapped up in now.

  I hear the front door shut behind me and turn—will it be Nate coming to say goodbye? But it's my mom, carrying one last small suitcase, her eyes covered in large, round sunglasses.

  “Ready?” she asks, without looking at me. I nod, then remember one last thing I've forgotten.

  “I'll be right back,” I say, and hurry in through the front door without explanation. I walk straight up the staircase and down the hall into my bedroom. It looks exactly the same as the first time I saw it. I pause for a moment, taking in the beauty of the furnishings for the last time, before walking over to my desk and opening the top drawer. I reach my arm all the way to the back and fish out the small slip of paper I stashed there.

  I walk out and down the hallway. Nate's bedroom door is slightly open and I can tell from the silence that he's not inside. I push it open all the way and walk to his bed. I run my hand over his bedspread and breathe in his smell. I pull down the comforter and lay the piece of paper on top of his pillow, then pull the comforter back up over it. I certainly don't want Pierce to find the scrap of paper where Eileen wrote her phone number.

  I'm about to leave when something makes me cross over to his window overlooking the river. My eye catches on a flash of white on the lower lawn: Nate sitting on the top step of the stairs leading down to the rocky shore. He sits completely still, his white t-shirt stretched across his broad back. I resist the urge to wonder what he'll do now—it's really none of my business anymore.

  I hurry back down to the car and see my mom sitting in the passenger seat. I open the driver's door and see that she's placed the keys on the seat. I get in without a word and turn the car on then pull away from the house. I glance in the rearview mirror to get one last glimpse at it as I turn the corner out of the gate.

  My mom is silent on our drive back to our old house, just staring out the window as we get on the highway that takes us further away from the city, back to our much less expensive neighborhood. A seed of resentment that's been building inside of me all summer, or perhaps longer, finally takes root as I glance sidelong at her impassive face.

  “You haven't even looked at me all day,” I finally say, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands.

  “What do you mean?” she asks faintly, still not turning to me.

  “You haven't looked at my face,” I repeat.

  “Brynn…” she sighs.

  “No, it's true. Your husband slapped me last night and you never even came to check on me. And now you won't look at the bruise.”

  “Brynn, I've been very upset.”

  “And I haven't? He feels me up, hits me, and you haven't asked me if I'm OK.”

  “It's not my fault that he did those things!” she shouts, suddenly hysterical.

  “Mom, I'm not blaming you for his actions, alright? But you’re my mother. You should have believed me—you should have taken care of me. I've been taking care of you for years, and this time, I needed you.”

  My mom sobs once, reaching up to cover her mouth with her hand. “I wanted to believe you, Brynn, I really did,” she finally gasps. “I just knew that if I did, everything would fall apart, and it all seemed so perfect.”

  “But it wasn't.”

  “No, it wasn't.” I feel her hand reach up tentatively to touch my face, and her fingers graze over the small cut in the corner of my mouth. “Oh, I'm so sorry, my darling. Does it hurt much?”

  “Hardly at all,” I reply, swallowing the tears that have sprung up at her touch.

  “I never guessed…about you and Nate, I mean,” she whispers.

  “That's over, too,” I reply shortly as my emotions threaten to overwhelm me.

  “Ah,” is all she says. “Well, I know that might not be the kind of thing you ever want to talk about with your mother, but I'm here. You cared about him a lot?”

  “Yes,” I answer, my voice raspy with held emotion. “So I guess you have to get a lawyer?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Oh, god. I suppose so,” she replies. “I think I'll be able to get my old job at the salon back, at least. I talked to Anita and she said the new girl they got is terrible.”

  “Did you sign a pre-nup?” I ask, thinking of Eileen. I know I'll have to fill my mom in on what I know about her soon, but it would just be too much for me right now.

  “Yes,” she sighs. “Iron-clad.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  I close the door behind me and dump my newly-purchased textbooks on my thin mattress, then straighten up to survey my Lawn Room. It's not much to look at, with its sparse furnishings and lack of bathroom access, though it does have a framed list of every inhabitant that's lived here, going back to UVA's very first class.

  For the last month, I've just been sitting around our old house, doing my best to help my mom with getting her old job back and hiring a lawyer, but there really wasn't much for me to do. I felt both relief and fear when it was finally time to drive back down to Charlottesville. Relief because I'll have schoolwork to occupy my mind, and fear because I might run into Nate on campus.

  Foolishly, I had hoped that he would try to get in touch with me after my mom and I moved out, but he didn't. It really was stupid of me. I told him that I loved him, and he didn't say it back. Simple as that. Even though he was angry, there must have been some truth to his words when he told me I wasn't special to him.

  I glance at the clock. Just after four—almost time for my dinner shift in the cafeteria to be starting. I change into my work clothes and head over. At least I know I won't run into Nate there—the athletes all have a separate dining hall serving far tastier and more nutritious food. I open my door to the lawn, smiling halfheartedly at another female student a few doors down as she exits her room at the same time. I walk quickly, keeping my head down, not really wanting to interact with anyone I know. I enter the dining hall and cross around to the side door, back into the kitchen.

  “Oh, Brynn!” Roberta, my manager, waves to me from a table by the front, where she's doing some paperwork. I wave back and head over. “There's been some issue with your work-study,” she tells me quietly as I reach her.

  “An issue?” I ask frowning. “Do you know what it is?”

  “Something related to your scholarship—that's all the dean's office told me when they called.” I rub my forehead in frustration. This is the last thing I need. “If you head over to Monroe Hall now, you might be able to talk to someone who knows more than I do.” I nod. “Sorry,” she adds, before continuing with her work.

  I hurry out of the dining hall and follow Robert
a's advice to see if I can get some more answers, though I fear I already know what happened. My mom has been so frazzled lately, I bet she forgot to make a payment on the portion of the tuition that we still owe. I explain the situation to a secretary at Monroe, who points me toward the office in charge of the work-study program. A man in his early thirties stands to greet me as I walk through the open door of his office.

  “Francis Delton,” he introduces himself, shaking my hand. “How can I help you?”

  “Well, I was told there's some issue with my work-study program, or with my scholarship, or something,” I reply, reaching to tug at my hair before realizing it's pulled up in a ponytail.

  “OK, your name?” he asks, sitting down and motioning me into the chair across from him.

  “Brynn Atwell,” I respond, spelling it out for him. He types my name into his computer and then clicks around for a moment.

  “Ah, this is quite unusual,” he says, raising his eyebrows at his screen.

  “OK…” I reply nervously.

  “You can no longer participate in the work-study program, because your tuition has been paid in full.”

  I stare at him. “You mean, for this semester?”

  “No, I mean all of your tuition.”

  I shake my head, unable to believe him. “For this year? Or…I mean, not all all?”

  He smiles. “All all.”

  “But that's…that's impossible. How? Who?” I stammer.

  “I have no idea. I can only see that you're ineligible for the program.”

  “OK, OK,” I reply, trying to gather my thoughts. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” I wander out of his office and out onto the quad. With Pierce and my mom getting divorced, I knew I'd have college tuition loans to deal with again, and I took it in stride. I was used to the idea, anyway. What the hell's going on?

  I reach into my back pocket and dial my mom. I have no idea if she'll know either, but I can at least tell her the good news.