Slade: A Stepbrother Romance (5 page)

“Stop,”
I said, making Iris freeze in place, the door halfway open. “I’ll do it. I’m
going to regret this. Hell, I’m pretty sure we both will. But I’ll do it, Iris.”
I stepped closer, taking the doorknob from her hand. “But I’m doing it for
Kellan. Not for you.”

I
opened the door, striding down the hall toward the hospital’s human resources
department. I’d just lied to my stepsister, but it was for a damn good cause. I
couldn’t afford to get her hopes up or make her feel special. The last time I’d
done that, it ended in tragedy. And I wasn’t about to make the same mistake all
over again.

Still,
I couldn’t help but feel like that was exactly what I was doing by going back
home.

~
FIVE ~

Iris

Everything that had happened in the
past few hours, everything I’d experienced since stepping off a plane and into the
hospital where my stepbrother worked, left me with a single, burning question.

What the hell is wrong
with Slade Jarvis?

I’d practically had to twist his arm
to get him to come back home and help his family, his own flesh and blood. Well,
okay, not
his
flesh and blood. Not all of us, anyway. But that didn’t
change the fact that we were family, and some of us took our responsibilities
seriously, and silly me, I’d thought some big-shot doctor would be one of those
people.

Slade hadn’t changed a bit. No, wait,
maybe he had. He sure as hell seemed like a bigger ass than I remembered.

Hotter than ever, too.

No. I couldn’t be thinking that. Not
after the shit he’d pulled. I mean, hell, the world has enough doctors in it,
yet Slade acted like without him, the whole damn hospital would fall apart.
Like the only reason I’d shown up there—taken a plane!—was to “ooh” and “aah”
over his medical prowess and swoon into his waiting arms. Not that Slade’s arms
were actually waiting for me. No, he’d made it pretty clear he got his fill of
feminine company on the regular.

Meanwhile, poor Iris Walker hadn’t
had so much as a date in… what, a year? My cheeks reddened and I slumped
against the window, trying to focus my attention and thoughts on anywhere but
Slade.

It wasn’t easy with him sitting right
beside me. Less so with the way he flirted with every stewardess on her way by.
Christ, he was insufferable.

Not that any of that should have
bothered me. Slade was a free man. He certainly wasn’t my boyfriend, and God willing,
he never would be. He had as much of a right as anyone else to hit on anything
with a pulse. Still, he could at least refrain from doing it in front of me,
what with our history and all.

Which was exactly why a part of me
wanted to call him on it. Ask him, “Hey,
bro,
remember that time you
fucked me in the pool house just to piss off your dad? What the hell was that
about?” I wanted to throw my ginger ale in his face and remind him, very
loudly, that he’d ruined my damn life. Practically ruined me for all other men.
But I was afraid of giving him too much credit.

I was also afraid of getting an
answer.

I sighed and pressed my forehead to
the window, staring into the clouds. I hated myself for the way I’d idealized
him over the past seven years, how I’d imagined this all going so very
differently. I’d show up, Slade would feel guilty for what he’d done, we’d
reconcile maybe, and then… I was ashamed to admit it, but maybe he would have
healed my broken heart, the void he’d left behind when he walked out on me that
day. Or otherwise, I’d show up at the hospital and Slade would have gotten fat
and I wouldn’t be feeling this embarrassing level of need in the first place.
It was wrong and stupid on so many levels that I couldn’t even begin to count.

But it wouldn’t go away. No matter
how much logic I threw at it, no matter how many times I brought the memory of
how Slade had used me to the forefront of my mind, nothing quelled the low
flame of desire burning in my belly.

You asshole,
I thought, stealing a glance at Slade as he chatted up yet another stewardess,
who burst into a fit of laughter at one of his lewd jokes.
I really thought
you were falling for me.
My stepbrother was one hell of an actor, too—I’d
never felt that way about anyone since.

You’re idealizing him
again,
I reminded myself, chewing on some of the
ice from my ginger ale.
You’ve talked to him. Who he is now, not seven years
ago, is what matters. And who he is now is a guy who’s clearly never lost a
minute of sleep over what he did to you, or how he tore apart your family.
Hell, he could barely even muster enough human decency to give a shit about
Kellan.

Kellan. Right. That was what this was
all about. Whatever past I had with Slade be damned—my missing, hot mess of a
little brother was way more important than any of that.

I tuned into reality just in time to
hear Slade say, “Trust me, sweetheart, you’ve got nothing to worry about. That
body of yours is
perfectly
healthy. I’m a doctor, so I should know.”

His latest victim’s eyes went wide as
she clung to the snack cart. “A doctor, huh? Wow. I mean, you look so young!”

Slade was practically bursting at the
seams with smugness now. “Yeah, I got accepted to Harvard medical at twenty-one.
Graduated top of my class, too.”

The stewardess—Mandy, I learned, by
way of her nametag, jiggling above her bouncing breasts—giggled. “So you’re not
just a doctor. You’re, like, some
Doogie Howser
-style genius?”

The corners of Slade’s lips quirked.
“More like
House, M.D.
”

I rolled my eyes so hard I was sure
they’d come flying out of my head and roll down the aisle. Clearly, Slade’s ego
knew no bounds.

“Could you not be so annoying?” I
hissed as soon as Mandy the Stewardess was out of earshot. “I mean, I know it’s
hard for you, but could you try?”

“Oh, it’s
definitely
hard,”
Slade replied, looking pointedly at Mandy’s rear, “but not for me.” He adjusted
his obvious, sizeable erection and my jaw dropped.
Pig!

“Stop looking at it, if it bothers
you so much,” he continued and I narrowed my eyes at him. “Or is that pretty,
open mouth of yours an invitation?”

I clamped my jaws shut so hard the
sound of my teeth impacting echoed through the cabin, and Slade laughed, long
and loud. I wanted to open up my window and throw myself out, parachute be
damned. This was torture. And I still had another three hours of it to endure.

Was this what it would be like,
having Slade back? I tried to look at the bright side: at least I’d probably
never fantasize about him again.

“I’m so glad we no longer live in the
same house,” I muttered, shooting my best scowl his way. Slade feigned that he
was hurt. “You’re an even bigger dick than you were when you were eighteen. A
few hours in close quarters with you is quite enough.”

Slade smirked. “Can’t control
yourself, huh?” He balled up the paper from his straw and tossed it straight
into my ginger ale cup, then laughed. “Yeah, I have that effect on women.
You’re just gonna have to get used to it, sweetheart.”

“Please don’t call me that,” I
groused, fishing the paper ball out of my cup with my nails. By the time I’d
removed it, he’d balled up the wrapper for his crackers and tossed that at me,
too. This time, it went straight down the front of my shirt.

“Want me to get that?” Slade asked,
leaning closer over the empty seat between us.
“Sweetheart?”

He reached over and I slapped his hand.
“Asshole!”

Slade grabbed my fingers and looked
into my eyes. The heat of his palm was scorching, and when his fingertips
brushed my knuckles, my pulse pounded so loud in my ears I could barely hear
what he was saying.

“You didn’t say no.”

I wrinkled my nose as his free hand
darted past the neckline of my blouse, delving into my cleavage to pluck the
wrapper from its depths. I let out a startled shriek and Slade laughed,
settling back into his seat while everyone else stared at me as if I’d grown a second
head.
I hate you,
I thought.

“They’re a little bigger than I
remember,” Slade said. “Only a little, though.”

The tops of my breasts still tingled
from his touch. I turned again to the window, refusing to give him the
satisfaction of seeing the conflict and embarrassment on my face. “Go away.”

“ ‘Go away’? Holy shit, sis. Is
that the best you’ve got?”

“I don’t want to do this with you
right now,” I gritted, buttoning one more button on my blouse. “Or ever,
actually. We’re not kids anymore, Slade. Can you at least pretend to be an
adult?”

“If you didn’t want to do this, then
you shouldn’t have dragged my ass onto a plane,” Slade countered, leaning his
chin on his hand. “Look before you leap, you know?”

I closed my eyes, shaking my head.
“Jesus Christ, I can’t wait to be rid of you in a few hours.”

“Rid of me?” He cocked a brow. “Who
said anything about you getting rid of me, sweetheart?” When I didn’t reply, he
grinned. “Wait a minute. You didn’t actually think you were just gonna drop me
off at Dad and Evelyn’s door and let me do all the legwork myself, did you? Are
you insane? No way in hell I’d stay with them, even if they wanted me to. Which
I’m pretty damn sure they don’t, considering our… history.”

My blood froze in my veins. Shit.
Slade had a point, and one I hadn’t thought all the way through.
Obviously
our parents wouldn’t want him in their house, even if I wasn’t there for him to
screw, and
obviously
I didn’t even want them to know he was here—it was
better for everyone this way. Not that I was planning on screwing Slade, even
if I was there. Shit. He had me so flustered…

“So you’ll get a hotel,” I said,
folding my arms to keep as much of my body away from Slade’s lascivious,
predatory gaze as I could. “You’re practically
Dr. House, M.D.,
right?
You can afford it.”

Slade thought about it for a minute,
then grinned. “Yeah. You know what? I think a hotel will suit me just fine. Now
all I have to do is get Mandy’s number. Thanks, sis.” He winked at me. “For a
minute there, I thought I was going to have to stay with you.”

I let that sink in for a minute. A
hotel was the reasonable solution. The perfect solution, really. With Slade the
way he was, I didn’t want to spend a single minute in his company that I didn’t
have to. But Slade being the way he was also meant that in a hotel room, left
to his own devices, he’d probably spend the next several days fucking
everything with a pussy and a pulse instead of looking for Kellan—who honestly,
he didn’t seem all that concerned about.

Slade needed supervision. From
someone responsible. Someone who wouldn’t shoot him on sight after having known
him for any length of time, if anyone like that even existed.

Shit. It was going to have to be me.

“Forget the hotel,” I said, waving my
hand dismissively. “You’ll stay with me. Which also means you can forget about
getting Mandy’s number and focus on what you’re flying into town for, which is
to find Kellan and get him back on the straight and narrow.”

Slade leaned back in his seat, that
unflappable smile still glued to his face. “Inviting me back to your apartment,
huh? I knew you still wanted me.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep,
cleansing breath. Maybe that was true, in regards to some mostly-repressed part
of me, but I could control myself—I hoped. There was too much on the line for
me not to.

Dammit, Kellan,
I thought, looking down over the distant earth.
Where are you?

~
SIX ~

Slade

“I got a call from a
friend of mine,” Iris said when we finally managed to get to her place after
the long drive from the airport. I’d gotten a rental and followed her to her
apartment—no way was I going to be stuck without a way to get around in this
shitty town. “She said that she saw Kellan over at an old foreclosure down by Baxter
Street in Hawthorne Grove.”

“There are probably a lot
of foreclosed houses over there,” I said snidely, setting my bag down by her
couch. “Hawthorne Grove is like this town’s shitty version of the projects.
What the hell was your friend doing in that part of town, anyway? Did she at
least give you an address?”

Iris shot me a glare,
apparently not at all enjoying my sarcastic tone. I’d been around Hawthorne
Grove when I was younger, and it was no wonder Kellan had gone there on his
bender. The few junkies in town all flocked to that dump, clustering inside the
many abandoned and condemned houses that dotted the neighborhood, and since
they were “squatters,” they couldn’t be evicted.

“She works for a realtor
that was looking into picking up some of these properties. Hopefully that means
someone is going to start cleaning up that part of town. But yeah, there’s an
address,” she said as she pulled out her phone. “We’re going in a few minutes,
once I—”

“You’re not going
anywhere,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “Especially not to a place like
that. Hawthorne Grove is a shit-hole, and it’s not safe. I’m going by myself.”

Iris raised her eyebrows
at me. “So, now you want to be the big honorable hero?” she asked, her hands on
her hips. “Well, this is new. Why the sudden change?”

“You act like I don’t
have a heart or something, Iris,” I said, feigning a wound over my heart. “Come
on. I may be a dick, but I’m not about to let you go somewhere dangerous.”

“Then you’re going to
give me your cell phone number,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “If
you
get hurt and can’t call me, I’m going to be so angry, Slade.”

“Fine, whatever,” I said,
handing over my phone for her to punch her number into my contacts. “Not like I
can’t handle a bunch of strung-out junkies.”

“That’s not the point,”
Iris shot back, handing me my phone once again. “I
expect
you to call me
as soon as you get there. Okay?”

“Yeah, all right,” I
said, laughing off her concern as I headed toward the door. I called her phone
to automatically input my number into her recent call history, then hung up.
“Christ, I’ve been here ten minutes and you’re already jonesing for my number.”
I ignored her withering look. “Just text me the address. If everything goes
well, I’ll have Kellan home before the day’s over.”

“It’s not going to be
that simple, Slade,” she said softly, but I turned my back on her. She was
right, obviously, but women didn’t always need to know that—especially not a
girl as stubborn and pigheaded as Iris Walker.

Hawthorne Grove was every
bit of the rat’s nest it had been when I had left seven years ago, maybe even
worse. I couldn’t even remember how many foreclosure and condemned notices I’d
passed on my way in. I felt bad for the people who
did
still live here,
especially since you’d hardly ever catch a cop anywhere near their
neighborhood—it was too dangerous to send officers down there on patrols. There
were no kids playing out in the yards, no neighbors mowing lawns or washing
cars. Anyone you
did
see outside were the people you usually wanted to
avoid, for better or worse.

I pulled up into the
cracked and uneven driveway of 204 Baxter Street around five o’clock in the
afternoon, and from what I could tell from my car, the place was completely
deserted. Every window was boarded up tight with a glaring red notice posted
right on the peeling, white front door. It probably would have fooled the
casual observer, but Iris’ friend was sure that she’d seen Kellan going inside.

Fucking
junkies
, I thought as I pushed open
the door to my rental car and stepped out into the late afternoon sun. I could
almost smell the human garbage the moment I breached the open air, drawing my
lip into a sneer of disgust. How could my brother have sunk so low?

I pulled out my phone and
shot Iris a quick text telling her I’d arrived. Calling felt like a little too
much, like we’d already gotten close again. A text was easy, impersonal, cold.
I needed to keep my distance from her, despite what my “lower brain” wanted.

I walked up the drive and
over the lopsided pavers that led the way to the front door. The closer I got,
however, the less convincing the house’s foreclosed status became. The notice
had been taken down and stuck back on so many times that it was barely legible
anymore, and the lock on the door was completely smashed in—probably from when
they’d first invaded the house.

I reached for the knob,
grasping the rusty metal and trying to turn it without any luck, but as I let
go, the door slowly swung inward. Beyond, the hallway was almost completely
black, save for the swath of light that cut through the entryway.

If I thought it had
smelled bad outside, I was completely unprepared for the stench that greeted me
now. Everything from the smell of human bodies all crammed into one space to
the mixed scents of shit and piss all assaulted my nose all at once. My only
saving grace was the fact that I had smelled a lot worse working in an emergency
room for the last few years, otherwise that smell might have taken me off of my
feet.

As I stepped over the
threshold, I turned on my phone’s flashlight app, illuminating a path as I
picked my way through the bottle-, needle-, and garbage-littered floor.

It didn’t take me long to
find my first junkie, sprawled out in a corner on a ratty-looking floor mat, a
loose tourniquet dangling from his upper arm. I moved past him without the
sorry piece of garbage even stirring one bit. It didn’t even occur to me until
that very moment that he might have been dead.

The rest of the house
didn’t look much better, and the farther in I went, the worse it became. There
were more and more junkies strewn across the floor and what little furniture
remained in the house was soiled and stained. Disgust welled inside me as I
watched two of the squatters start shooting up in a corner, closing their eyes
as their drugs of choice washed over them and carried them into a heavenly
stupor.

“Kellan?” I called out,
scanning the bright white light of my cellphone over the sprawled out
meth-heads and heroin addicts. “Kellan, are you here?”

As I cast my light around
the room I began to hear groans and complaints from the prostrated junkies as
they tried to cover their eyes, grumbling for me to keep it down. Naturally, I
didn’t listen to a damn thing any of them said.

“Kellan! Come on, it’s
Slade,” I said, hoping that would encourage him to answer. At first I didn’t
get a reply, just a few more snarls and gripes—and even a few slurred
curses—when someone screamed for me to shut off the light.

But then it started
paying off.

“Slade?”

I almost didn’t recognize
the voice, it was raw, hoarse, like he’d been gargling razor blades. I turned
around, the sounds of rustling drawing my attention to the threadbare couch
sitting against the far wall.

Kellan looked like he’d
been through Hell and back. His face was dirty, along with the rest of him, and
he looked even paler than he had when I’d left. That dark hair of his was
longer, his locks matted together with dirt and sweat and God knows what else.
He blinked at me for a few moments before he finally managed to pull himself up
from the couch and stumble over.

“What do
you
want?” he asked, his bloodshot eyes narrowed at me. His lips curled into a
sneer as he looked me up and down. “Well, shit. Looks like you’re doin’ pretty
well for yourself. Big important doctor, right? You don’t belong here with us.”

Us.
Kellan made these sad excuses for human beings sound his like
family. Christ, was he that far gone?

“You need to come home,”
I said, ignoring what I knew would be a dicey conversation if I let him draw me
in. “Your mom and dad are worried—”

“Don’t fucking talk to me
about them,” he snapped, glaring up into my face. Kellan was still shorter than
me by at least four inches, but that didn’t stop him from puffing up like a pit
bull ready to charge. “I’m not going back to them, not after everything that
happened.”

“Kellan,” I said in an
attempt to calm him down, taking a step back as he clenched his fists. His
shoulders were tight, hackles raised. Over the repugnant odor of everything
else in the room, I could smell trouble. “Listen, let’s just talk this out,
okay?”

“Like how you talked Iris
onto your dick, you fucking
rapist?!”

Rapist?

What. The. Fuck.

My stomach turned at even
the mention of the word. First there was a hot flash of anger, even rage. I was
a lot of things—an asshole, a prick, an arrogant bastard—but there was one
thing I wasn’t. I wasn’t a fucking rapist.

But then something else
seeped into my bones, something much heavier and colder—dread.
Is that how
Iris told it? Does she think I raped her?

I felt Kellan’s knuckles
colliding with my face before I even had time to register that he’d thrown the
damn punch. I stumbled backward, right into another junkie, who had just gotten
up to figure out what was going on. I saw stars for a moment. Holy shit. My
little brother had learned how to throw a pretty killer punch.

But as I looked back over
at him, I noticed that while he might have had the strength, he certainly
didn’t have the balance. I regained my composure quickly and rushed Kellan,
pushing him back onto the couch from which he’d gotten up. He needed to be off
his feet before he hurt himself.

“What the fuck are you talking
about?” I asked, stepping back as he looked up at me, his face filled with
color and his eyes wild. “I didn’t…”

Had I raped Iris?
Did she
really
want
what I’d given her? All the times she and I had fucked, the countless secret
rendezvous after our parents had gone to sleep… she’d needed convincing that
first time, of course, but I’d never touched her before she’d told me yes. But
did she
want
it?

“You’re a piece of shit,”
he said, spitting right in front of where I stood. “I fucking looked
up
to you. I wanted to
be
you! And after all that time, I found out all you
wanted was my fucking
sister!
You were my hero, Slade! How could you
betray me like that? Betray our family?”

“It was never
my
family!” I shouted, fists clenched as I felt heat rising in my face. I felt
defenseless, exposed—I needed to hurt him back. “I never wanted a new mom! I
wanted my
old
mom! But instead, my dad went and started fucking yours,
in
her
bed! So don’t tell me about betrayal!”

“You’re fucking
pathetic,” Kellan laughed, standing up from the couch once again. “I’m
surprised
anyone
would fuck a loser like you, let alone my sister. I
wasn’t able to defend her back then, but I can sure as hell do it now!”