I head home in a cab to pick up some warmer clothes, my laptop, and other personal items I think I won’t be able to do without during my stay at the twins’ apartment. I look around at my room and feel sad. It’s never been a place that I’ve been able to relax in. As kids, Kerry and I would escape to our rooms whenever mom was in a particularly awful mood, which was often. I don’t think she ever really got over the humiliation of being left by dad. I’m not the tidiest person and my room was always a major thorn in her side and totally out of synch with the rest of the immaculate house. I’ve always felt like she was annoyed with me and like I had to pretend to be someone different.
When Kerry moved out to live with her first husband, I felt like my only ally had left me behind. For whatever reason, mom seemed even more disappointed with me at that point, probably because I didn’t have a boyfriend. When Brad came along, I think I just jumped at the idea of having someone. Mom loved him because he was rich and commanding; I think she would have liked him for herself, to be honest. She practically shoved me out of the door when I asked if she thought it would be a good idea to move in with him. In retrospect, I don’t even know why I asked her. Maybe I was pleased that finally, I was doing something that she approved of. My grades had always been a disappointment to her, my career choice not impressive enough for her to brag about to her friends. Even when I was featured in the local paper for my cakes and won a state competition, she’d only been begrudgingly congratulatory.
I was little when dad left. I still have no idea why he went. I have no idea if he ever tried to see us because mom would never talk about him. Any questions about it were ignored and then she’d be horrible for days to make sure we knew what would happen if we broached the subject again. The day she found out he passed away, she announced it with no emotion and no sensitivity towards us. That night, Kerry came into my room and slept in my bed. We didn’t talk about it much but she told me she wished she’d gotten to ask him how he could have walked away so easily and never looked back. I wanted to know the same thing. Mostly, though, I would have told him that I didn’t blame him and that I understood.
It doesn’t take me long to put the things I need in a small suitcase. It’ll take a whole lot longer to move the rest because this time I won’t be coming back again. I need to grow up and stop relying on mom to bail me out.
My most important items go in a large shoulder bag. My order book, my recipe book – not that I need to refer to it much these days – and my baking equipment. I take the things that I can’t do without. Most of it is in my small studio, but I had some things at mom’s so I could work on sugar crafting in the evening.
I flick through the order book quickly and find that I have a few for next week. I can get ahead now that I’m not going to be vacationing as planned. My heart sinks. I’d been looking forward to a holiday for such a long time and it feels pretty damn disappointing to be standing at home when I should be in a bikini on a beach in paradise. Oh well, it was definitely fun while it lasted.
I grab a few things from the cupboards too. My favorite herbal tea and some cookies. A packet of granola and some packets of soup. I feel weird about doing a big shop at the boys’ place. Matty was pretty clear that he expected me to make myself at home, but I’m not going to be the house guest who’s found with their feet up on the designer coffee table. I’m going to try and make sure I make as little impact as possible on their home.
While I wait for another cab, I message my friend Hope to tell her I’m back. She calls me the second it’s delivered.
“What do you mean you came back early?” she shouts. “You were on vacation. What could possibly have been so important you had to leave vacation?”
“Hello to you too!” I laugh. “It wasn’t something important, it was something unpleasant.”
“Oh no. Not your mom again?”
I laugh again because she knows without me even saying anything. That’s how bad my mom’s reputation is for her behavior.
“She’s getting married, Hope.”
“Married. Who the hell would be prepared to put up with that for better and for worse? Don’t they realize it’s likely to mostly be for worse?”
“He’s not that different from her. I think they might be a match made in hell.”
Hope chuckles. “So you’re angry that she’s getting married? I’d have thought you’d be happy that she’d have something else to focus her laser sharp tongue on.”
“Nah. It’s not that. To be honest, I’m happy that she’s found someone that can take away some of her focus from me. It’s complicated. Seems I’m going to be getting a bigger family.”
“Hell-dude has kids?”
“Four grown sons.”
“Stepbrothers,” she squeals. “You’re gonna have four stepbrothers. I’m so jealous!”
“My life isn’t one of your romance novels, you know.”
She huffs as though I’ve offended her but I know she’s laughing inside. I think Hope has one of the biggest Kindle collections of Stepbrother Romance Novels of anyone in the world. She’s always had a thing for them, ever since our other friend Jenna found herself living with the sexiest stepbrother in the world. OMG. If Jenna hadn’t snapped Harrison up, I’d have been worried for his health. Hope had serious plans for that guy.
“You wish it was,” she said. “If every guy was like one of my book boyfriends, all women would be walking around with smiles on their faces and divorce lawyers would all be going out of business.”
“Maybe,” I laugh.
“So did you meet them?”
“Yeah,”
“And you didn’t like them?
I think about the moment I laid eyes on Callum and Liam; the impact their presence had on me was mind-blowing. And Ryan and Matty too. How the hell am I going to explain it all?
“Mom was rude to me in front of them and I was so angry I just wanted to come home.”
“Oh for fuck sake,” Hope says with all the passion that only a best friend can have in support of you. “What the hell is that woman’s problem? I know she’s your mom, but she’s just too much and it’s not okay for her to keep hurting you all the time.”
“I know. And thanks, sweetie. I’m okay now that I’m back.”
“So are you just gonna hang out at home until she comes back and lays into you again?”
“Nah…I’ve kinda got somewhere else to stay.”
“Where?” she asks, intrigued. “You managed to find alternative accommodation pretty quickly.”
“My new stepbrothers offered me their place while I get my life sorted out.”
I don’t miss the fact that she’s gone quiet, and I’ve known Hope long enough to know what she’s doing right now. She’s getting lots of puzzle pieces of information from this conversation, sorting them out and placing them into a pattern that will tell her what’s been going on. I know I won’t need to tell her a thing. She’s gonna work it all out just like she always does.
“You had a fling on vacation, didn’t you? With one of the brothers. That’s why you’re playing house-guest.”
Hope is like a friggin’ mindreader. “I might have had a little fling.”
“Little? That doesn’t sound very promising. You gonna tell me about it or am I gonna have to trawl the city to find your ass so I can extract the juicy details?”
“Well, it was kinda with two of them.” I wait for the sounds of an explosion to happen over the phone because I know I blew her mind. There’s silence for a few seconds while my bomb drops, then Hope is back.
“WHAAAAAAAAAT,” she screeches. “There is no way you’re telling me you had a threesome with your stepbrothers! I know you, Bethany Blane, and…”
I cut her off before she goes off on one completely. “It happened the night of the wedding. They were Dean’s best men. Twins.”
“TWINNNNNNNS,” she screeches. “You…I can’t believe you’re living out my favorite book!”
“Which one’s that?” I ask.
She scoffs. “You totally don’t need to ask that question, girl. So what was it like…tell me it was amazing…tell me it was all my dreams and fantasies rolled into one.”
“It was,” I say softly.
“Oh my god. You are so damn lucky. And you left all that behind because of your mom. You’re crazy, girl. Crazy.”
“I think I might be,” I say.
A horn blasts outside. My cab is waiting at the curb. “I’m gonna have to go, Hope,” I say. “I’ll text you my new address. I’ll be around if you’re free?”
“I can’t believe you’re leaving me hanging like this!” she says in such an exasperated voice that I burst out laughing.
“Listen, girl, you’ve read enough stepbrother ménage novels to be able to guess at some of what happened. My cab’s outside. I’ll fill you in another time. Byeeee!”
I hang up before she can say anything else, just to make her a little madder! Talking to my bestie has definitely cheered me up.
I haul my things outside and the cab driver loads the bags into the trunk. Just as I’m about to get in the car my phone rings again. The first thing to cross my mind is that it’s Hope calling back, desperate for all the juicy details. That girl has no patience.
Then I see Brad’s name flash up on the screen and feel sick to my stomach in a flash. What the hell? When I walked out, he swore he’d never speak to me again. The loss of control over me was too much for him to take. When I wasn’t malleable anymore he wasn’t interested, and because I’d defied and humiliated him, he needed to at least try and reject me too.
I have no idea what he’s calling about and I don’t want to pick up either, but I know if I don’t and he doesn’t leave a message the curiosity will bug me. Add to that the pressure that he’ll be expecting me to call him back and worse that he could call back at any time! It seems the best option to pick up and try to sound unaffected. The truth is that even though I am more than over him, I still get trembles in my hands and an anxious feeling in my chest. I hate it, but I just don’t know what I can do about it. Maybe it won’t ever change.
“Hello.”
“Bethany,” he says in his most charming tone, and I feel another wave of nausea. “Long time no speak.”
“Has it been?”
He’s quiet momentarily and I know he won’t like me questioning him. I hear him inhale and can sense that he’s trying to keep calm. “Well, I suppose it hasn’t been that long. Anyway, I was wondering if you could come over and collect the things that you’ve left here.”
I frown because I was sure I had taken everything when I left. I guess I must not have been as thorough as I thought I was. “What did you find?”
“Well, there are some photos and some other small personal effects. I didn’t want to throw them away in case they were things you wanted.” I inwardly curse myself for failing to take things that sound like they might be important to me. At this point, I’d get him to throw away pretty much anything to avoid having to be in his company again, but not photos. Photos are precious moments and I don’t want to forget any of those.
As much as it pains me to arrange to see him, I guess I have to. “I’m in a cab. I could shoot by now.”
He’s silent for a second. I don’t think he was expecting me to suggest right now. “That’ll be fine, I suppose.”
“I’ll be around twenty minutes with traffic.”
“Okay then. I’ll see you then.”
I hang up feeling dirty. Everything about his tone and manner makes my skin crawl, but I’ll be okay with the cab driver waiting for me. I’ll be in and out of there as fast as I can with as little conversation as I can manage.
This day just keeps getting stranger and stranger. One minute I’m on vacation, the next I’m heading to see an ex who I want to keep firmly in the past.
I tell the driver the new address and he adjusts his route to get there as quickly as possible. All the way, I’m fidgeting. Just going back to his apartment is hard. When I think back to the memories of the time we spent together, there are so few pleasant moments to recollect. It’s all days tinged with sadness or anger, depending on how Brad was behaving. If he was in a bad mood then he’d want to bring me down. If he was in a good mood then often he’d want to undermine me, just to make himself feel even better. It was like a pendulum swinging from misery to more misery until I lost myself in his criticism. It took too long for me to realize what was happening, and even when I’d admitted it to myself, I felt ashamed to confess it to the world.
To try and relieve my anxiety, I message Hope the address of Liam’s place and tell her that I’ll definitely share all the juicy details next time I see her. I get some angry red-faced emoji’s back that make me chuckle.
The driver turns slowly into the lot and I look up to where Brad’s windows are. I can almost feel his eyes on the cab and a shudder runs through me. I take three deep breaths then square my shoulders and open the car door. I tell the driver to wait for me, and then I’m off to go and retrieve my final things.
This is absolutely the last time I’m going to see Brad. I make a promise to myself. It’s not because I’m too weak to face him, or too beaten down. It’s because, no matter how much time passes, he will still be the same cruel and evil fucker and I will still know. I can’t forget how he treated me. I can’t forget the malice in his eyes or the glee I witnessed when he really got me to crumble. Brad will never be a good person, no matter how much he puts a front on for the world, and I just don’t want to put myself through being around him anymore!
The ride in the elevator is painful. My hands are trembling so I clasp them together. I can feel sweat in the small of my back. Primal reactions to deep emotional damage. The hate I feel for him is so sharp it’s like a blade inside me. There are times when I’ve imagined how I’d feel if he died and I know it would be joy. As a person with a strong moral compass, that realization is uncomfortable, but I can’t do anything to change it.
The elevator doors open and I see his door at the end of the corridor. It’s number 13 and that always made it feel a little creepy. I linger in the elevator with my hand over the sensor, debating what to do next. I’ve come this far but I could back out. I could let the doors close and be done with it. I could leave my photos and the precious memories they may hold and accept the loss, but I can’t. I don’t want to let him steal anything more from me than he already has.
I walk down the hall slowly but once I’m at the door I knock with purpose. My heart skips quadruple time while I wait for Brad to open up. I can hear him walking around inside and I take a step back to put some distance between where I’m standing and where he’ll be when he comes to the door. There’s a familiar sound as he unlocks; one that used to fill me with dread when he’d come home from work. I turn to look down the corridor as if my body is frantically considering escape. Fight or flight and I’m definitely tempted to do the latter.
Then he whips the door open and I’m frozen like a rabbit in headlights.
I used to think Brad was gorgeous. I used to feel unworthy of being in a relationship with him. I saw how other girls would gaze at him when we were out, but the more I got to see who he was inside, the more like a gargoyle he appeared. Now I see the darkness within him marring his face like a twisted mask. His eyes aren’t smoldering anymore, they’re sinister and frightening.
“Bethany,” he says with a fake smile and a drawl that anyone who was listening would think was soft with affection. I know the truth, though.
“Where are the things?” I say, trying to keep my voice even. I reach into my pocket and finger my phone, not wanting to hold his gaze.
“They’re just here,” he says. His arm waves in the direction of the table in the hallway. “Would you like to come in?”
“No thanks. I’ll just take them.”
“You’re just going to stand in the hallway?” he asks with a smug edge to his voice, as though he knows I’m scared and is reveling in it. “I think you should come in and see the photos.”
“I really don’t need to,” I tell him. “I have a cab outside. I’ll just take them and go, okay?”
His eyes flash bright with something that looks a lot like glee. “Okay. If you want to.”
He leaves me at the door and goes to get a small brown bag from the console table, then returns, holding it out to me as though it contains something foul smelling.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the handle, but he doesn’t let go.
“You know, Bethany, you really made a big mistake walking out of here.” I tug at the bag, now desperate to get away, but he holds firm. “You thought you could just leave me and there would be no consequences.” Brad leans forward, his nostrils flaring, and I let go of the bag, taking two steps back. He looks seriously fucking angry and for a second I think he’s going to hit me, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he takes a deep breath, straightens his posture, and drops the bag on the floor.
“Take your things and get out of here,” he hisses, then turns and slams the door.
My heart is beating so fast I can’t think what to do. The bag sits on the floor two feet in front of me but I can’t bring myself to walk closer to the apartment. I look over my shoulder, hoping there will be someone coming up in the elevator but the hallway is empty. Brad’s door is still closed and with my eyes fixed firmly on it, I grab out for the bag and hurry away. I don’t want to run because he’s probably looking at me through the spy hole like the deranged freak that he is, but I’m practically jogging. The elevator has returned to the ground floor so I opt to take the stairs, sprinting down them as fast as I can. The brown bag rustles, brushing against my leg but I don’t look inside it. I can’t. Not until I know I’m safely away.
The cab driver is parked where he left me, and the relief I feel when I get back into the car and slam the door is so great that tears spring to my eyes. I take so many deep breaths that I begin to feel woozy.
“Are you okay, Miss?” the driver looks over his shoulder.
“Can we get out of here?” I say quietly, just about holding myself together.
“Sure thing.” He pulls away and I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to leave anywhere in my life.
The brown bag rests on my knee and I look at it, hoping that whatever is contained inside was worth the awful stress that I just went through. I open it up, finding a lipstick, a couple of pens with my business logo on them, and a CD that was probably in Brad’s car. There’s an envelope too. I pull it out and open the flap, feeling confused. I’ve never been to this photo developer before. Maybe he just used one of his envelopes to stash my pictures? I don’t recognize the top photo. It’s a close up of me in black and white. I look preoccupied and am wearing way more makeup than usual. I flick to the next picture and Kerry’s with me, her hair fixed up elaborately. I look closer.
It’s at the wedding. These pictures were taken a few days ago.
How the fuck did he get pictures of the wedding?
My heart starts to thump harder again. Has he been stalking me? Was he watching me at the wedding? My hands fumble as I shuffle through the photos. There’s some of me with the twins at the reception when we were standing at the bar. They’re taken from an odd angle so you can’t see much, but I know what’s coming now. I don’t have to look any further to know he has pictures of me with the twins, but I do. Like a robot, I gaze at picture after picture of me in more and more compromising positions, and I feel sick. Absolutely sick to my stomach.
But it gets worse. Scrawled across the last picture, in Brad’s jagged handwriting, are some words that cut me to the core. ‘I always knew you were a whore, but now everyone else will too.”
And suddenly my world falls apart.
