Series: Peach State Stepbros Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
She starts to say my name again, and I barely move my lips as I spit out, “I’m fine.”
I know Mom can sense my tension, and she knows perfectly well what we went through, so it’s not like I can pretend I’m not bothered. I take a breath to calm myself.
Doesn’t work.
“Mom, he took up too much of our lives already. I don’t want to give him another second to ruin any more moments. Let’s just enjoy the show.”
She nods, but I can’t just wish away the awkward moment, like I can’t wish away the painful memories.
A couple sits close enough that I’m not worried about any other personal shit coming up, but when the show starts, I can’t really enjoy myself, my mind tormenting me.
Dad’s cruel comments that made Mom feel like shit.
The chaotic aftermath of losing Aria.
Watching Dad become crueler and crueler as Mom steadily became less and less of herself.
Throughout the show, I’m on edge. Mom seems a little off too. Which sucks because we’ve had such a good time this week.
And is it terrible how much I wish I could have Brenner’s lips around my dick, helping me forget all this bullshit?
After the show, when we leave the theater, we find Brenner and Keith standing in the hallway outside, chatting. They’re grinning ear to ear, their amazing relationship picking at the tender, reopened wound, but really, it’s never healed.
Their gazes shift to us, and Keith’s eyes light up, like he’s genuinely excited to see us. “How were the acrobats?”
I force a smile. “Great. They had a bunch of different things. Tumbling, contortions, aerial stuff with silks and hoops—whatever the hell those things are called.”
As Brenner’s forehead creases, I realize I’ve given myself away by saying so much, when normally I would’ve just said great.
Brenner continues inspecting my expression, like he’s trying to read my damn mind.
Not fucking now, Bren.
“Hopefully you can tell us more about it over some Thai food,” Keith says. “There’s that restaurant we still haven’t made it to, and I figured we could have lunch there.”
“I’m gonna swing by the burger joint,” I say. “Maybe head back to the room and take a nap.”
Bren’s still eyeing me. If anyone can tell something’s up with me, it’s him.
“I’ll join you,” he says.
“No, no. I’m good. You love Thai.”
He shrugs. “We have another night.”
I grit my teeth, avoiding eye contact because it’s like some part of me fears if he looks into my eyes, he’ll know exactly what I’m thinking—which is ridiculous because no one ever knows exactly what I’m thinking, not even him.
“Keith and I can just stop by the buffet, then,” Mom says.
“Yeah, I’m good with that, Nic. Maybe we can try that Thai place tonight or tomorrow.”
It’s settled, so we go our separate ways.
As I walk alongside Brenner, I’m kind of wishing we’d all gone to Thai. Although, I really want to get back to the room for a bit, on my own, and get it together.
Bren checks behind us, like he’s making sure our parents are out of earshot, before he takes me by the arm and stops me in the hall. “What’s up, man?”
Brenner is my best friend. He knows more than anyone else in my life about the shit my dad put us through, but I feel bad bringing it up.
“Nothing,” I say.
He angles his head, his brow rising. “You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s cool. You know I’d never push you.”
I do know that. Sometimes when people run their mouth as much as Bren does, they can be pretty insensitive, but not him. From the moment we met, the guy picked up on my vulnerabilities right away, and never presses where he knows it will hurt.
“Let’s go to the burger place,” I say, starting down the hall.
I’ve never known Brenner to be at a loss for words, and since I’m so used to the guy just going off about one thing or another, like silence might kill him, the fact that he’s not saying anything starts to get to me. We head through the automatic doors of the main pool deck when he finally says, “This isn’t about anything we’ve done, is it?”
“What?”
“Like…” He glances around, as if to make sure no one’s close enough to hear our conversation. “You aren’t regretting messing around, are you? Because we can drop it. It’s not a big deal.”
When I turn to him, he’s smiling, since he knows damn well that’s not why I’m upset, and his pretense sets me at ease.
“I mean,” he goes on, “I can find some other guy’s dick to suck and who’ll let me come all over their chest.” He shrugs, his smile expanding.
“You do that, Bren. Seems like a waste when I’m gonna have to find someone else to suck my dick and come on my chest, but whatever.”