The Step Dare (Peach State Stepbros #3)

Chapter 13

13

Taylor

I finish dinner with our first movie, and while Brenner makes popcorn, I list off different movies we could watch next, working through the usual game of “Seen it,” “Seen it twice,” “Don’t want to see it.” With all these streaming services we subscribe to, we sure as hell better be able to find something.

“What about Misery ?” I ask.

“What is it?”

“Don’t know. Has Kathy Bates in it. Older movie.”

“Like thirties old?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Don’t you know who Kathy Bates is?”

“An actress from the thirties?”

I laugh. “You’ll recognize her. It’s nineties old.”

He shrugs. “Put it on. Let’s give it a shot.”

I wait for Brenner to bring the bowl of popcorn and settle beside me on the couch before pressing Play. As the opening credits start, I lounge back, and he rests his head in my lap, tossing a piece of popcorn up and catching it in his mouth.

“Okay, open up,” he says.

I obey, and he tosses a piece I catch in my mouth.

“Here comes another.”

We go again, but I miss this time.

“Ooh, so close,” he says before popping another into his mouth.

“I can do better than that,” I press. “Hit me again.”

“Determined thing tonight, aren’t you? Ever since you got hole, you’re ready to take on the world.”

I chuckle. “It’s not not true.”

Bren grins, his eyes sparkling under the room light before he tosses another piece, and I’m ridiculously proud of myself when I get it in my mouth.

“So two out of three,” I say. “Let’s see how you do.”

I grab a piece out of the bowl and toss it up. As it comes down, Brenner shifts and takes it right in the forehead.

“Oh fuck,” he says. “No, that doesn’t count.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m at a disadvantage in this position.”

“Not my problem.”

I throw him another, and he shifts and catches it in his mouth. Then I go for a third, and he does the same.

“Another,” he insists.

“No, because then you’re gonna feel like you won, even though we’ve tied.”

“Not a tie when that first one didn’t count.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not letting you think you won.”

“What are you talking about? You love when I win.”

“And you know I don’t like to make it easy on you.”

He pouts. “Pretty please, Tay. All those times I sucked your dick, wasn’t it good enough for me to deserve a second chance? Didn’t I find you a good boyhole to fuck?”

“I think that boyhole found us,” I say with a laugh before grabbing another piece and tossing it for him.

Of course he catches it, and he looks so fucking pleased with himself before he says, “So I won?”

“If you say so.”

“Thank you. I do.”

“Speaking of that boyhole, Dax is always really smiley when I see him around campus. Think he had a good time.”

“No shit.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Figured he might have thought you were fun, and I was just some noob who didn’t know what he was doing.”

His brows tug closer together. “Trust me, Taylor, he was loving our cocks every way we gave them to him.” My cheeks warm, and his expression turns serious. “Don’t blush like that.” It’s like he’s trying to command me to stop.

“What?”

“You’re just trying to torture me since you know I can’t kiss you again.”

“You’re just gonna make it redder if you keep talking like that.”

“That works too,” he says with a wink.

I’ve seen the guy work his charm on people countless times, but it’s wild having him direct it at me.

“Shut it, Bren,” I say, though I’m not exactly hating it.

The lighthearted moment is great, but playful as we are, something else lingers too, ever since Brenner brought up his conversation with his dad earlier.

He studies my expression, his smile fading. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Damn, this guy knows me.

He reaches up, rests his hand on my cheek, then slides it up, running his fingers through my bangs. “Come on, Tay. I told you my stuff. Your turn.”

“Okay, there’s something, but it doesn’t have anything to do with popcorn or hole.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

That’s the thing about Brenner—the way he’s so careful with me. Knows not to push too hard.

“I hope you don’t think it’s anything you did, but when you talk about your parents, it reminds me of the Piece of Shit. Here you are, wishing you had more time with your mom, and I wish I could have so many years back from him.”

I quiet again, and Brenner runs his knuckles down my cheek. “I remember when you told me about him. That night after we’d been drinking at that party senior year. But I knew about it before then. Not the specifics, but I would watch you when you brought up your dad or when I was talking about mine. There was something there, something off.”

The memory stirs a warm sensation in my chest. The night I finally spoke to someone, in a way I couldn’t even speak to my mom about that bastard.

“But you never pushed me to share,” I say. “You just let me get it out in my own time.”

I keep waiting for Brenner to say something, crack a joke or diss the Piece of Shit, but he’s silent. Listening. It’s a side of Bren not many get to see. Like it’s just for me, which makes it that much more special.

“I still remember the night that changed everything,” I say. “At the kitchen table, when he was getting onto Mom about how he would have rather had lasagna than stroganoff, and he wouldn’t let up, which really was just another night in our house. I could see how uncomfortable it was making her. And it’d only been six months since we lost Aria. She finally got up because she couldn’t take it anymore, and like he was punishing her for daring to get away from his bullshit, he comes out with those fucking words: ‘if you can’t handle that, I don’t know how you thought you could handle having another kid.’ Just so vindictive, so nasty, so impossible for me to understand why he would utter them when she was still in so much pain.”

Bren’s nostrils flare, his jaw tensing. He might be one of the few people who could hate the Piece of Shit as much as me or Mom.

“But you stood up to him,” Brenner says, since this isn’t the first time he’s heard this.

And it feels good knowing he remembers the details. Not that it surprises me.

My eyes water. “As much as a ten-year-old can. Bottled it up for so long, and I guess all that pressure had to be released. All I did was tell him he was being mean and hurting her, and he didn’t look so high and mighty then. I could see he was ashamed I’d called him out. Like he knew I fucking saw him for the monster he really was. Because that may have been the worst thing he said, but there were so many cruel comments, so many jabs wearing on Mom. For long enough, even before Aria, that I forgot how bright Mom could shine.”

“But you see it now.”

“Yeah, I do. And it wasn’t easy. A lot of therapy and support from friends, steadily rebuilding her life.”

“She’s earned every bit of happiness she has.”

“That’s for sure.” I shake my head, fighting my teary eyes. “Anyway, just sounds so nice hearing you talk about your parents. And seeing how kind and compassionate your dad is with you and your feelings because the only kind of dad I know made my mom feel like shit about my sister’s death, and then when she couldn’t take it anymore, dragged her through court just so he could spend his half of custody ignoring me and resenting me for choosing her.”

Brenner rests his hand against my cheek, stroking softly, like he knows I need his touch right now.

“I hope you know, Bren, that just like I know your feelings with your mom don’t make you want my mom or your dad to be miserable, I’d never want you or him to be miserable because of my experience with the Piece of Shit. Even if sometimes a part of me feels a bit sad seeing how amazing your dad is.”

A tear finally breaks free, and Brenner wipes at it with his thumb. “I know.”

“Of course you do. I just wanted to tell you.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” I say, leaning into his palm as I gaze into his beautiful dark-brown eyes, appreciating the warmth of his touch. As much fun as we can have fucking around, I love moments like these just as much.

When it’s just the two of us.

The real us.

The us that isn’t just wanting to get each other off or watch each other get off.

Or all jokes and laughs, like we don’t have a care in the world.

The us we only show each other.

“I wish there were magic words I could say,” I add. “Something that would take away the sting of what’s happening, and what happened to your mom.”

“I wish I could do that with your shit too. It’d be nice if we could just have a quick chat about all the dark shit in our minds and that could clear it all up, but things aren’t ever that easy, right?”

I nod. “Right.”

His cheeks puff before he exhales slowly. Then he shakes it off. “Let’s restart the movie. And I’ll cuddle the shit out of you to make me feel better. Come on, assume the position.”

“Oh, do we cuddle now?” I ask.

“Shut up and be a good big spoon.”

I laugh as we adjust. I slide down, resting my head on the pillow as he pushes his body against me. I hook my arm around him, tucking my hand under the hem of his shirt as his ass pushes close against my crotch.

“Let’s see how long it takes me to get you hard like this,” he teases.

I glide my hand across his abs. “You get me hard,” I say, “and I swear, I’m gonna tickle the fuck out of you.”

Being besties, we’ve had our share of tickle fights, and as I get close to where I know he’s sensitive on his abdomen, he grabs my hand. “Uh-uh.” He glances over his shoulder. “Don’t forget I know where you’re sensitive too, and I’ll go right for under your arms.”

I grunt. “Guess you win this time.”

“Second win of the night,” he says.

“First win!”

“Uh-uh, you agreed to the first. And working on my third now.” He jiggles his ass against my crotch, making me laugh, even as I find it’s working pretty fast.

I can’t help noting that even though the threat of a tickle is gone, he keeps his hand on mine, relaxing his hold. I grip gently to remind myself that, despite everything that happened in the past, I’m safe here with him.

I grab the remote and restart the movie, and as the credits start rolling, I keep waiting for him to let go of my hand.

He doesn’t, though.

And I don’t want to let go of his either.