Stepbrother: The Game He Plays

Note

Prologue

Karley’s Thoughts

No!

No!

No!

This cannot be happening to me!

Please no!

He didn’t hear my pleas. They were all in my head as he held his hands tightly around my neck. Squeezing. Silencing me.

No! How could it be him?

Hot tears raced down the corners of my panicked eyes staring wildly up at him.

How could I have not known it was him?

The signs were always there. I just didn’t pay attention to them.

For too long thoughts of his brother preoccupied me—distracted me away from him. He wanted it that way. It was part of his game.

It didn’t matter who he hurt. The thrill of the game—the rush it gave him—was all that mattered. I wasn’t his only victim. There were many before me. There would be many after me. He enjoyed it too much to stop. He was too good at it to be caught. And everything about him made it so easy for him to keep going.

His words. His smile. His eyes.

Those eyes.

Blue. Piercing. Magnetic.

They made it effortless to love him. To trust him. To let him get close.

I’d been under their hold many times—standing face-to-face with him, staring at him from across a room, lying under him as he made love to me.

But tonight, as he lay on top of me, we weren’t making love. He was simply fulfilling his promise and ending his game with me.

Chapter 1

Broken Promises

Miss Karley Woods.

My eyes rolled after reading the sign.

She couldn’t even find the time to come to the airport herself to pick me up. It fucking figured. Since she married him, she was different. I hated her. Knowing she had chosen him over me once again made me hate her even more.

The driver took my bag and led me out to a long, shiny car in the airport parking lot. Again, it fucking figured. He would only have his new wife’s daughter ride in the best car. I hated him more than I hated her.

I sat in the back of the limousine and scrolled through the pictures on my phone. I don’t know why I kept their wedding picture—or why I looked at it every day. Maybe because she looked beautiful. Angelic. Happy. No, that wasn’t the reason. It was him. I closed my eyes and tried to shake his image out of my head. Pointless. He was always with me.

I refused to go to the ceremony. Her leaving my father for him was unforgiveable. The last thing I said to her before she married him was I hated them both. Immediately, I regretted it. Three years have passed and I still haven’t apologized.

I shoved my phone into my pocket and opened up one of the bottles of water lined on the shelf of the car’s bar. I swallowed the liquid in a just a few gulps before picking up another bottle. Next to the bar was today’s paper. I unfolded it to the front page headline: THIRD VICTIM FOUND DEAD. I quickly skimmed the article.

Kailani Rivas. Investigation. Osborne Resort.

Osborne Resort. His resort.

Maybe that’s why my mother wasn’t at the airport waiting for me. Maybe she was at the resort with him. Guilt for the hateful thoughts I had toward him twisted my stomach. I glanced at the article again. Young. Vibrant. Mountain. Strangled. The words began to blur.

Who killed this girl? Did she know her murderer? Did she trust him? Would they catch him?

Thankfully, my morbid thoughts were interrupted by the vibrating phone in my pocket.

Marissa.

She was my best friend and roommate back in Santa Barbara. I was supposed to call her as soon as I landed. I checked the time before I answered. I’d wasted twenty-nine minutes since I stepped off the plane.

Why didn’t you call me?

We just landed.

No, you landed almost a half hour ago! You know how freaked out I get about airplanes!

I smiled thinking about our relationship. She was more of a mother to me than a friend. If I told her about the article she would go into complete panic—telling me to be careful and be mindful of my surroundings. I wouldn’t worry her by telling her. Instead, over the next few minutes I listened to her telling me everything was going to be fine and to try and make the best of the situation. She knew I didn’t have a choice to be here. My father’s job was taking him away for the holiday and after my mother asked if I could visit, his decision for me had been made.

Who knows, she said. Maybe you’ll get along with your stepbrothers…

My stepbrothers. Bill’s sons. Joe and Justin.

Joe was the older of the two. He was twenty-two and Justin was twenty. I had no idea what either boy looked like now. I only saw a picture of them three years ago from my mom and Bill’s wedding, the wedding I refused to go to. When my mother tried showing me the pictures on her first visit after the wedding, I blankly stared at their faces.

I doubt it.

Try to be positive about this, Karley. Besides, I’m sure your mom is nervous, too. You know, she’s probably waiting by the luggage claim holding her breath until she sees you and knows you made it home safely.

My mother had promised me she would be at the airport. But she’d also promised to always love my father. She was a liar.

No, she wasn’t and this isn’t my home.

My response was sharp. Marissa was quick to correct herself.

You know that’s not what I meant.

There was no need for her to apologize. Like always, she was trying help. I was the one that needed to apologize to her.

I’m sorry… Hey, I gotta go.

All right, but call me whenever you can. I’ll miss you!

I’ll miss you, too.

I stared down at the article again. And said her name out loud. Kailani Rivas. She must have known her killer. Her death was too personal for her not to have trusted him. I tossed the paper in the recycle bin thinking how some girls are so naïve and how something like that would never happen to me.

Chapter 2

The Beginning

Only fifty-four minutes had passed since we pulled out of the parking garage. Through the darkness of the night, I focused on the wooden mailbox at the end of a nearly hidden driveway ahead.

Osborne was burned into the wooden sign above it.

Osborne. My mother’s new last name.

His last name.

Bill Osborne. Her husband. My stepfather.

My eyes rolled with the turn of the car. I closed them again as the driver began driving up the winding road. When my stomach started to feel queasy, I opened them back up. The road was long and lined with evergreen trees on both sides.

I thought we turned in the driveway.

This is the driveway, ma’am.

Of course it is, I whispered rolling my eyes again.

He pretended not to notice the sarcasm lacing my tone.

We’re almost to the house. My stare was a mixture of disbelief and disgust. After a few seconds, he spoke again.

There.

I followed in the direction of his stare. Ahead was something that resembled the shape of a house but it was much too large. As we made one final turn around the tree line, the giant structure came into full view.

It looked like a hotel nestled in between mature evergreen trees. The entire front side of the house was nothing but windows and wood. You could see inside the entire house, all three floors, by standing still from where we parked the car. The smell of pine filled the air as I got out of the car.

It was monstrous and completely breathtaking.

Well, this is it, he said putting the town car into park. Beautiful isn’t it?

I was still peering out the window taking in its size. Once I heard his question, the beauty of the house blossomed before me. But it was more than beautiful. It was amazing. The biggest, most beautiful house I had ever seen . . . and I immediately hated it.

I sat frozen in the backseat when I saw her. I immediately recognized the smile I’d missed so much hiding behind her clasping hands. I wanted to smile back at her. I reminded myself that I hated her. With clenched fingers, I opened the door slowly and stepped out. Being here felt just as I thought it would . . . wrong.

Oh, honey! she called walking up to me with opened arms. I’m so glad you’re here.

Immediately, she took me in her trembling embrace and hugged me.

Oh, I have missed you so much. Her confession was almost muted as I buried my face into her soft, thick auburn hair. The familiar smell of her shampoo rushed into my nose filling it with the crisp scent of blooming lavender flowers. I wanted to cry. I had missed this smell.

She pulled me from her. Still smiling. Still trembling.

Thanks for picking me up. The harsh whisper burned my throat as badly as it burned her ears. I was fighting back angry tears. At the same time, I’d had to remind myself not to hug her back.

I’m sorry, honey. There was a lot going on at the resort. I couldn’t get away.

Yeah, a girl was found dead, I mumbled stepping farther away from her.

Yes, it’s terrible. She sighed. Bill was at the resort all day trying to help the police. She rubbed her palm against her forehead. Just promise me, Karley, you’ll be careful. You need to make sure you’re always aware of—

I know how to take care of myself, I interrupted sharply. The last thing I needed was her giving me motherly advice. She lost that right years ago. Her guilt-ridden eyes confessed she understood my resentment.

Looking at her was almost like looking into a mirror. She had my caramel-colored eyes and button nose. My lips were a little fuller and I was a few inches taller than her but we still shared the same crooked smile. Her age didn’t show any more on her face the way it had those stressful months before she left my father.

She looked radiant. Youthful. Happy.

I had to remind myself I didn’t love her anymore.

You look so beautiful. She sighed leaning up and kissing my cheek before taking me into her arms again.

Thanks.

I am so happy you’re here, she said again, almost under her breath.

It was hard not to smile. I wanted to. I wanted to tell her how much I missed her. How much I loved her. But when she raised her hand to wipe her eyes, I saw the bright, sparkling reminder on her finger of why I wouldn’t.

The air was trapped inside my lungs. I had to release it. It clawed and crawled its way up my throat, as I avoided her eyes.

Finally, it escaped but I swallowed new air with similar difficulty. I couldn’t spend the next week this way. I had to find a way to breathe again effortlessly. Getting as far away as possible from Bill would be the only way.

Let’s go inside, she said putting her arm around my shoulder. I’ll send Bill back out for your stuff.

No, I said abruptly, I’ll get it.

Karley, don’t be silly. Bill won’t mind.

I don’t want Bill to get my things, I said a little louder than she expected. I can get my own things.

Okay, she said quietly, surrendering to my rudeness once again. But let me help you.

Ma’am, I’ll carry them up to the house, the driver announced.

Her soft eyes shot over to mine and then back at him. She forced a weak smile and shook her head slowly.

Thank you, Gene, but I think we’ll be okay.

He looked nervous. Uncertain of his next move, he looked up toward the house at the tall, dark figure standing in the doorway. Then with a quick, dismissive gesture from the shadowed figure, the driver nodded and handed the handle of the suitcase to my mother.

He got into the car and drove away without looking back again.

When I looked at the lit doorway entry, Bill was gone.

Stepping inside the house, I was taken aback by the beauty and enormity in front of me. I felt as if I had walked into a snow lodge instead of a house. It was an extreme contrast to the small, confined living space I shared with Marissa.

There was so much. Everywhere. It was hard to take it all in at once. Everything was light wood or dark leather. Whole trees had been cut down to construct the walls, except the front wall which was made entirely from windows. The cathedral ceiling must have been at least forty feet high at its center peak. Every inch of flooring was hardwood and thick massive rugs lay under the heavy, leather couches. The coffee and end tables also had an unusual, expensive thickness to them. Candles helped light the room, giving off a golden color throughout the house. But the most amazing feature was the huge fireplace directly in front of me. I had never seen anything so massive, so well detailed in its construction, and it gave off an inviting, comforting warmth.

I set my bags down and continued to stare in awe at my surroundings. To my left, I could see the kitchen. The appliances were all stainless steel, and a large rock-tiled island sat in the center with an enormous fresh floral arrangement on top of it. This place was unlike anything I had ever seen, let alone lived in before.

Hello, Karley.

I turned to see him walking toward us from the kitchen. He looked as if he had just gotten home from work, dressed in a thousand-dollar suit no less.

Hello, I whispered, almost embarrassed to be standing in front of him with my non-designer, clearance-rack attire and decade-long broken down luggage.

I’m glad you’re here, he said reaching out to hug me.

I stood motionless in his arms as I always had each time he hugged me in the past. He never seemed to mind. He loved my mother enough to pretend he didn’t think her daughter was the disrespectful brat who didn’t deserve the kindness he always showed me.

His smell was inviting. I breathed him in willingly.

Thank you, I whispered as he stepped back from me. His blazing sapphire eyes met mine for only a moment before he spoke.

Well, the boys are still out, but they’ll be home later and you can meet them, he said in a reassuring voice, as if I would be friends with either of them. I wanted to tell him I hated them, too. I didn’t.

He turned toward my mother and gave her an encouraging smile as he put his arm around her shoulder. I quickly shoved my hands in my pockets and looked away. She could sense the anger rebuilding inside me.

She slid from beneath his arm awkwardly. Again, he didn’t seem to mind.

Do you wanna see your room?

There was a pathetic sense of hope in her voice.

I guess.

I bent forward to pick my bags back up when his hand touched mine.

Here, let me get that for you.

No, I’m fine. To my surprise, I didn’t pull my hand out from under his gentle hold. My eyes locked on his stare. Cool, blue. He slowly released his grip. I got it.

He raised back up and let out a small sigh. Although I noticed annoyance in his exhale, it was also accompanied with a hint of amusement. It angered me. My stare dared him to say something to me. He didn’t. Instead, he offered to make us some coffee.

That would be great, my mother said, nervously smiling back and forth at the two of us. Do you still take hazelnut in yours, honey?

I was happy she remembered but didn’t let her know in my quick, rude response.

Yep.

She pretended not to notice. He did, too.

And what about whipped cream?

Yep, I repeated with the same snippy tone.

Her wide eyes darted over to him and he understood the hunger in her stare. Without looking at me again, he walked back into the kitchen.

Walking up the huge flight of stairs was exhausting. There had to have been at least thirty steps between the first and second floors. I sat my suitcase down when we reached the top and looked back at the downstairs. It was picture perfect, something the CEO of a snow resort should own.

Bill was the owner of Osborne Ski Resort and Spa, which is how my mother met him. He came to California on a business trip four years ago trying to expand his clientele. She was working the front desk of the hotel he was staying in. And now, three years after they were married, she was the manager of the spa and salon. She loved it. She loved him.

Since tomorrow’s Thanksgiving, maybe Friday we could stop by the salon and get our hair done? she suggested. I knew her cheeks had to be hurting by now from all of the smiling. I also knew her hair was recently dyed so her invite was actually her encouraging me to do something with mine.

Why? Don’t you like my hair? I snapped.

No, no . . . I like it, she said trying to backtrack quickly. I thought you’d like to hang out and maybe have a girls’ day. We could get our hair done, get a manicure and pedicure . . . go shopping!

Sure, whatever, I said bending forward to pick my bag back up.

She remembered me with long, shiny blond hair. I always had highlights and the newest style but since my father lost his job and money became tight, I let my natural dark brown hair grow out. And right now, as it was mangled in a ponytail, I really shouldn’t be upset with her for mentioning fixing it. It needed it. Her weekly letters to me were always filled with money and suggestions to buy myself something nice. I never did. I had a growing savings account from it though. One day, I would give it all back to her in a letter telling her to never contact me again. One day.

After she showed me to my room, I drank a cup of coffee with her and Bill. He wanted me to wait up and meet his sons but I asked to be excused for the night to take a shower and unpack. Reluctantly, he agreed. Before I walked out of the kitchen, I stopped and turned around.

Thank you for doing this.

Doing what? my mother asked in confusion.

Letting me stay here with you.

Karley, Bill said holding my mother’s hand, this is your home as much as it is mine or your mom’s or our boys’ home. We’re a family.

I didn’t know how to react to his words. Your home . . . our boys . . . we’re a family.

I didn’t respond. The few brief moments seemed to last an eternity before I could walk away from him.

Good night, sweetie, my mother whispered, but I was already out the door.

I thought twice about unpacking at all. I would only be here for a few days. But a part of me was looking forward to having my own space again even it was only temporary. When I opened the closet, it was filled from top to bottom and side to side with clothes and shoes they had bought me. There were several jackets and coats and a variety of shoes from black boots to heels. She even bought me gym shoes. Stacks of sweaters were folded neatly on the shelves alongside sweatshirts. More shirts and at least a dozen pairs of jeans hung neatly on hangers. It was a lot more than I would need for the next week or the four weeks I was supposed to come back for during Christmas break due to my father being out of town again.

I refused to let his money and charm buy me the way it had her. With a mighty force, I pushed all of the new clothes to the back of the closet and began hanging what I packed in their place in the front.

When I realized I’d forgotten my purse downstairs, I opened my bedroom door and heard voices other than Mom or Bill’s in the kitchen. They must have belonged to Bill’s sons, Joe and Justin.

My mom had explained that, like me, Bill’s sons were in town from college—Yale—for the Thanksgiving holiday and would be leaving in four days to return to college until coming back for Christmas break, too.

The laughter coming from the kitchen echoed throughout the house. I thought about still going downstairs to get my purse but that would mean meeting Bill’s sons. After one quick look in the mirror I decided there was no way that was going to happen. I would wait until tomorrow.

Lying on my new bed in the darkness of my new room, I began to cry as thoughts of everything that had happened to my family flooded my mind. The pain was unbearable. I wanted to call my father. I needed to hear his voice. But he would hear my pain and he didn’t deserve that—not after all he’d been through because of her. Instead of the call, I sent him a quick text to tell him good night. It would be best for both of us.

After I sent my text, I heard someone coming up the stairs. Whoever it was walked past my room and into the next room over, shutting the door. It was one of the boys. He must have known I was here now. He must have just had no interest in meeting me. I understood. I had no interest in meeting him. Either of them.

The knock on my door startled me.

I pretended to be asleep as the door began to open. Mom pretended not to notice as she pulled the covers up to my chin and kissed my forehead gently.

As she closed the door I heard her tell someone, She’s already asleep.

The unfamiliar deep voice replied, That’s all right. I can wait a little longer.

Chapter 3

Two of a Kind

I woke up to the smell of frying bacon and the sounds of male voices laughing the next morning. Both were coming from downstairs. With one eye open, I stared at the bright red numbers on my clock.

10:14.

I stayed in bed for the next few minutes inhaling the delicious smell and listening to the echoing laughter filling the house. I didn’t want to see Bill or meet his sons, but I couldn’t stay hidden from them all day . . . or for the next several days. My thoughts of wondering when I should go downstairs were suddenly interrupted by the realization that I was probably the last one awake. They would all be there. Waiting for me. My stomach dropped. I pulled my knees up to my chest and waited. It didn’t last as long as I hoped. Within minutes, I took in a deep breath and slowly rolled myself out of bed.

The birds were chirping. The sun was shining. Everything about this morning was perfect . . . except everything about this morning.

It hadn’t been a bad dream. I was here. Vail. The lump in my throat began to swell. I swallowed it quickly and surveyed the beauty surrounding me.

The shades of the lamps and the pillow cases had hand-sewn designs of flowers and butterflies on them. Burned into the wood beside the patio doors was a collection of butterflies, all different sizes and wing designs, and all of them floating toward the doors and up toward the sun. From my mother’s telling me in the past about Bill’s love for woodworking, I knew it must have been his creation for me. An offering of peace between us. Something to bring me closer to him. I touched a few of them and surprisingly, thoughts of him brought a smile to my face.

Maybe he wasn’t a bad guy?

My mother told me he was a good man. A man who would do anything for his sons and especially, anything to protect them.

Sitting in the corner of the room, on a small wooden stool, was the doll my mother had given to me when I was a child. I walked over to her and picked her up in my arms. One of her eyes was missing, her hair was tattered and torn out in places, and her dress had old grape juice stains on it but she was still beautiful. I thought I had lost her years ago when my mother left. Another smile came to my face knowing she had been here the entire time.

Safe.

Waiting for me.

I placed her back on the stool, took a deep breath, looked at myself in the mirror, and let it out it a huff.

I looked horrible. Matted hair, glasses, and an oversize sweatshirt was not the look I wanted. Not even to meet them. The Osborne brothers. I decided if I had to do this—which I did—I wasn’t going to do it looking like a hot mess.

After a quick shower, I brushed my teeth while I searched through my closet. As much as I wanted to put on a new outfit, I didn’t. I wouldn’t give her, or him, the satisfaction. Instead, I put on a pair of jeans and a hooded UCSB sweatshirt. Decided against makeup (and my glasses) and threw my hair up in a quick pony tail. Looking in the mirror, I was satisfied.

This was who I was and like it or not, to the Osborne family, it needed to be good enough.

I cracked the door open and the sounds of laughter coming from the kitchen were still echoing through the house.

Fuck, what is so funny?

Were they that perfect of a family?

I rolled my eyes back and without thinking I made a raspberry sound by sticking out my tongue and decided at that minute, I couldn’t get out of this place and away from the Osbornes fast enough.

My heart was beating at a pace I was sure would lead to immediate explosion. I had no idea how I would react to his sons . . . or how they would react to me. I only knew I wanted to see them before they saw me.

My steps were slow and silent. I didn’t want anyone to hear me. The closer I got to the kitchen I realized I didn’t hear my mother’s voice. I wondered if she was even awake yet. I didn’t want to be down here if she wasn’t awake, or worse, wasn’t here.

I decided to see if her car was still parked outside but when I turned around, I ran right into the hard, bare chest of a man. He must have been standing behind me, watching me. Waiting for me to know