The Stepbrother 2: Noah

Scarlett-

"So tell me about your relationship with your mother," my therapist inquired, her light brown eyes were fixed on me from behind her laptop screen.

Ms.

Avery Shug was in her early seventies.

I had picked her as my therapist because something told me she would be able to help.

She just had this aura about her.

She was tiny, oak-colored, with a full head of gray hair hanging down, and she had one of those voices you just wanted to listen to.

But sometimes she was annoying.

I hesitated, caught off guard by how serious the first question of our session today was.

She had never asked about my mother.

Mostly, she asked about how I’m feeling or felt in the past mentally.

"Uh, why does that matter?" I asked, my reluctance evident in my tone.

Ms.

Avery leaned back, her expression unreadable.

"Understanding your past relationships can help us make sense of your current feelings and behaviors," she explained gently.

I sighed.

I didn’t want to participate, but I knew my relationship with Creed and my marriage depended on me participating in the solo sessions and then the family ones that would soon start.

I hated talking about myself.

But I started.

"My mother was my world, you know? Because my father wasn’t there.

She used to talk to me like I was a grown-up. But everything changed when she got married." My voice trailed off, a lump forming in my throat.

"How did it change?" Ms.

Avery prodded softly.

"I became an afterthought.

All her attention was on my stepfather and on trying to get my stepbrother not to hate her.

Her relationship with my stepfather was shady as fuck.

She was his dying wife's nurse. I still remember the whispers that started when she married my stepfather.

I married my stepbrother, by the way...

She didn’t even talk to me for years after that." I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt.

I loathed telling people Troy was my stepbrother.

Despite the fact we had never seen each other as siblings and were entirely different races, people looked at us like we committed incest.

I avoided Ms.

Avery's eyes.

"And how did her changing make you feel?"

"Forgotten.

Worthless.

Especially when the only time she paid attention to me was to tell me what I needed to do with my life or to tell me I was messing up..." The words tumbled out, sounding bitter.

Truth be told, I was.

But I don’t see how this information helps.

I’m being accused of treating my stepdaughter better than my blood daughter.

Ms.

Avery nodded.

“Do you think you treated Maine better than Creed?”

I paused to think.

“No, I treated them differently, but neither better.

Maybe I overcompensated with Maine sometimes so I wouldn’t look like the angry, jilted stepmother mistreating the child her husband created while cheating on her."

Ms.

Avery's expression softened.

"It sounds like you were trying to navigate a complex family dynamic, Scarlett.

It's understandable to make mistakes in these situations. Have you talked to Creed about it, explained your side?”

I shook my head.

“I don’t think Creed would care.

She just wants someone to blame for her anger."

"And what is she angry about?”

I told her about the DJ situation.

When she took her glasses off at the end, I knew she was about to say something I wouldn’t like.

I braced myself for it.

“I have been a fan of you and your husband for a long time.

I’ve spoken to Troy.

I know that he didn’t tell you about his issues, which resulted in his affair and the conception of Maine.

How did you feel when he kept that from you?" She didn’t give me a chance to reply.

“Now imagine how Creed felt.

It’s not the same, but you did something darn close to her to what Troy did to you."

“Fuck,”

I sat there, stunned, as her words sank in.

The parallel had never occurred to me.

"How do I even begin to make this right?" I asked, feeling overwhelmed.

"An apology would be a good start," she advised.

“I tried to apologize, but she was so angry,”

I said, feeling defensive.

Ms.

Avery shook her head.

“I don’t think you actually tried to apologize, not from the way you responded earlier.

You said she wants someone to blame for her anger.

But the fact is, she has every right to be angry, and you are to blame for it.

You lied to her.

This time, make sure it comes from a place of genuine understanding and remorse, not just as a way to smooth things over because you no longer feel she should be angry."

I narrowed my eyes at the screen, bristling at her bluntness.

She was right, but it still pissed me off.

“And when she doesn’t accept my apology? Creed was always so stubborn when she wanted to be.

She’s gotten married and is planning on having my first blood grandchild without me being involved.”

I folded my arms across my chest and leaned into the sofa cushion.

“Even if I grovel, she might not be receptive, so what’s the point of groveling?”

Ms.

Avery let out a hard sigh, clearly frustrated.

"Scarlett, you seem to be purposely missing the point here.

The issue isn't about whether Creed will accept your apology or not.

It's about you acknowledging your role in this situation and genuinely trying to make amends so she will at least think about accepting your apology.

You’re speaking from a selfish place; take accountability." Her voice was firm, almost scolding.

I blinked, taken aback by her tone.

Ms.

Avery dropped her head for a second, letting her hair fall forward to cover her face.

She took a visibly deep breath, then sat back in her chair, composed once more.

“I’m not trying to be harsh with you, Scarlett, but we’ve been doing this push and pull for weeks.

You have a breakthrough, then talk yourself out of it.

It’s not groveling to admit when you've hurt someone, especially someone you love.

It's being responsible.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but she cut me off.

“That’s our time for today, Scarlett.

I hope you think about what I said.”

Troy had been sitting quietly in the corner of our bedroom, shaking his head as he listened in.

“So, what are you going to do?”

I had wanted him to sit in on the session to show him I was trying.

He had not been happy with me for months because when Creed shut me out, she shut him out too.

Now, I almost wished I hadn’t let him listen.

“I’m going to apologize.

Just give me time to figure out what to say.”

I knew my tone was defensive, but I couldn’t help it.

Troy’s face started reddening.

He pushed up from where he was sitting, his voice hard.

“Don’t take too much time.

I want to be there for my daughter as she prepares to become a mother. If I have to choose between that and you, I’ll choose her, and when I leave this time, I won’t come back.”

I gritted my teeth to keep from saying something that would truly anger him because, deep down, I knew he was right.

Everybody was right.

I owed Creed an apology, but a part of me still felt like she owed me one too.

It wasn’t the fact that Troy knew about the divorce that hurt.

It was the fact that Creed was the one who had told him.

The secrets we kept for each other were a part of our relationship dynamic that worked.

All the times I’d kept secrets for her when she wanted to remain perfect in the eyes of her precious daddy—those were still locked away. Even now, angry at her, I wouldn’t tell him. She hurt me, and I needed her to understand that too.

As for Troy knowing… he had a lot of nerve being angry at me for even weighing my options after he sprung the news that I’d be raising another woman's baby.

He only had a little bit longer to hold that over my head before I said, "fuck him." I could leave too.

Troy-

Ms.

Avery smiled when she appeared on the screen.

I let my lips curve upward, trying to smile back, but I wasn't feeling it.

I'd been up all night. Even the good news that Scarlett’s charges had been dropped by the prosecutor didn’t make me feel better. I was running on empty and didn’t know how to fix the mess my family was in. I usually fixed things—with money, through violence, or with my fame. None of that would help me now.

"Good morning, Doctor."

"Good morning, Troy," Ms.

Avery replied, resting her elbows on the arms of her lounge chair and steepling her fingers.

"Are you ready to begin today's session?"

I nodded.

Even if I wasn’t ready, I would say yes.

I was tired of being in limbo with my family.

Her brows arched above her black-rimmed glasses, and then she dropped a bombshell.

"You're a manipulative narcissist with the temper of a teenage boy.

How do you feel about that?"

Eyeing her angrily, I tensed in my seat.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?"

Ms.

Avery didn't flinch.

"You heard me, Troy," she replied calmly.

“Now answer me. I asked how you feel about that."

I took a deep breath to calm myself before I ended up saying something that could cost me the one therapist Scarlett and Creed were both willing to talk to.

"I feel like you're making unwarranted assumptions about me."

"Let me make them warranted then." She straightened in her chair to look at me directly through the camera.

She was wearing a blue caftan-style dress that made her look like someone’s grandma, but I had a feeling what she was about to say was not going to be very grandmotherly.

“You practically forced yourself into the life of a girl you bullied for years because of her mother's actions.

Lied to her so you could keep her close, participated in an affair rather than tell her you were having mental health and addiction problems, then brought the evidence of that affair into her home.

And then you feel entitled to her undying devotion? Doesn’t that make you everything I accused you of being?”

I shifted uncomfortably because it hurt to hear her version of the truth.

"I know I've messed up, but I'm not to blame for everything." She was talking to me as if I were a monster.

I just went after what I wanted.

That's how you're supposed to live life.

"Troy, this isn't about blame.

This is about accountability.

I told Scarlett she needed to take some, and you also.

You hurt Scarlett, then you placed burdens on her shoulders before she even had time to heal from what you did to her. Quite frankly, if it were me, I would have left you, very loudly and publicly, the same way you embarrassed her."

My head jerked back like she'd just hit me.

"Damn, don’t therapists usually adopt a gentler approach when confronting their paying clients with hard truths?"

She chuckled.

“What did you ask of me when you hired me?"

"But that was—" I began.

She held up her hand, stopping me.

“You said you wanted me because you heard I wasn’t a traditional therapist.

You said you needed me to help you and your family mend, you said don’t sugarcoat anything.

And here we are. If you would like, I could refer you to a colleague who might be more to your standards." She chastised.

I swear I could see a smirk on her face.

I hesitated for a second, then shook my head.

She nodded.

“Then let's continue.”

I sank deeper into my chair, ignoring my frustration.

“A few sessions ago, you told me you resented Scarlett's mother and still do.

Do you think you look for reasons to take some of that anger out on Scarlett still, like when you were younger?”

“Yes,”

I answered truthfully.

“Our parents, even my own father, practically disowned her for marrying me.

Scarlett never tells anyone that she and her mother finally came together again because they bonded over talking about what a piece of shit I was for going to the hospital and getting Maine.

Here I am, a multimillion-dollar rock star, but I was supposed to leave my child in the hospital to be adopted away by Lord knows who.”

Her voice softened.

“I empathize, Troy.

I really do.

But what would you have done with Maine if you talked to Scarlett and didn’t make the decision to take her on your own, and Scarlett said no? What would you have done?”

I paused, the question giving me a headache because I didn’t know what I would have done.

Leaving Scarlett wasn’t an option.

Even now, as I make threats, the thought kills me.

The silence stretched between us until I felt too much time had passed, and I had to answer. "I... I don't know," I admitted finally. "I guess I never thought about it that way. I just acted."

"Think about it."

I did.

"I can't make that decision."

“Because it's a complex decision to make, and I suspect that's why you didn't ask Scarlett—you didn't want to risk losing her.

You were being selfish.

To fix what’s frayed, you'll have to admit that and learn to think before you act.

That's something we need to work on if you want to be an emotionally intelligent adult," Ms.

Avery pointed out.

"Impulsive decisions, especially ones that deeply impact others, can be damaging.

It's crucial to consider all perspectives and involve those who will be affected.

Your knee-jerk anger is another thing we’ll work on in the future."

I nodded slowly, the reality of my actions settling in.

Fixing my family wasn’t going to be something that happened quickly.

But where did that leave my relationship with Creed? I would never admit it out loud, but Creed was special to me.

She came after all the struggle and strife. I wanted to be a part of her life and her baby’s life. But could I do that without Scarlett? And could I keep Scarlett?

As the session drew to a close, I started to understand that if I even had a chance at holding my family together, Scarlett and I were going to have to lay our egos aside, work everything out between ourselves, and approach our kids as healthier people—mentally and emotionally.

Troy-

Scarlett's voice broke into my dream, then my world was being shaken.

As my grogginess faded, I blinked myself awake and could hear relentless rain beating against our living room window.

It had started raining during my therapy session and had now ended.

When I became aware of my surroundings, I realized I’d fallen asleep on the sofa in the living room.

Scarlett's face hovered inches from mine.

“What?”

I snapped.

I had tried to talk to her about what I’d discussed with Dr.

Avery, but all she wanted to do was argue.

I was tired of it.

Our conversations these days were like walking through a minefield, never knowing what would blow up in our lives.

Not like the old days, where we’d fight and make up hard and love each other harder afterward.

This fighting had me looking at Scarlett differently, seeing how vindictive and emotionally stunted she was.

"Troy, wake up," she demanded, her tone laced with anxiety.

"Something is wrong with Maine."

In an instant, I sat up, fully awake, and took in the fact that Scarlett was soaking wet.

My heart began to race because I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of dread.

“What’s wrong?”

"I heard something outside, went to look out the window, and saw Maine pacing back and forth in the rain.

I tried to get her to come in, and she wouldn’t.

When I went out to get her, she started yelling gibberish at the top of her lungs."

Without a second thought, I got up and made a dash for the door.

Adrenaline surged through me as I flung it open and stepped out into the pouring rain.

Cold water instantly soaked through my clothes.

Maine stopped pacing in front of her car to stare at me, as if seeing me for the first time.

Her car door was open, and the engine was still running.

"Maine, sweetheart, what's going on?" I asked, my voice filled with genuine concern and confusion.

"What I need to say can’t be done here, Daddy." She nervously glanced around the yard, as if expecting somebody to jump out at her.

The rain was relentless, leaving a chill in my bones.

“Okay, Maine.

Let’s go inside, and we can talk."

Maine nodded, her eyes wide and filled with an unspoken fear.

As we turned back toward the house, I couldn't help but notice her trembling.

Once inside, Scarlett rushed to get towels, wrapping one around Maine and another around me.

Scarlett stood in the corner by the door as Maine settled on the sofa, and I took a seat across from her.

Maine kept cutting her eyes at Scarlett.

“Can you give us a moment alone, Scar?”

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t argue.

She walked upstairs.

I waited, giving Maine the space she needed to speak.

"Daddy, I need you to tell me why you hate me so much.”

Tears began to form in her eyes.

“I thought you loved me when I was younger.

But lately, it seems like you only care about everybody but me.

You even seem to favor Noah over me. Why can't you love me like you used to, Daddy?"

Her words cut deep, and my heart ached.

I opened my mouth to say something, wanting to reassure her of my love, to explain, but before I could respond, Maine's voice grew louder, her words drowning out the sound of the rain tapping the window.

"Don't lie!" she yelled, her voice filled with accusation and hurt.

“My son is gone, and you took everything else but the house I feel trapped in.”

I searched for the words to say to her but couldn’t find them.

I was caught off guard by everything she was accusing me of.

Had I been a neglectful father? There was a time when Maine would look up at me, wide-eyed and trusting.

How did we end up here?

"You’re not even listening to me now.

The only person you listen to is your precious fucking Scarlett.

If I gave you what she gave you, would you listen to me then? I can be like Scarlett for you, Daddy," she yelled, her voice shaking.

With trembling hands, she pulled open her wet robe and let it slip to the ground.

The living room was dim, lit only by the occasional flash of lightning, but I could clearly see that she had lost so much weight.

Her body was emaciated.

How had I not noticed?

Then, in a shocking move, she lunged towards me.

I stumbled backward, the chair behind me toppled over, sending me to the ground.

She jumped on top of me and grabbed for the waist of my shorts.

I was horrified.

I wanted to cry. I bucked her off me and tried to restrain her. Maine fought me, swinging her fists, grabbing my hair, all while screaming.

"Daddy! Daddy!" she cried out, her voice filled with anguish.

My heart ached as I grappled with her, trying to get her under control.

"Scarlett! Call for help!"

I heard Scarlett enter the room.

"Maine, baby.

What are you doing?"

Maine stopped suddenly.

She jumped up, looked around the room as if she was waking up from a dream, then ran out of the house naked.

I jumped up to run after her.

I made it to the door in time to watch her speed off.

“I have to go get her.

Something's wrong.

Call the concierge doctor service and have them here ASAP." I grabbed my keys from the entry table.

What in the hell was going on? I knew Maine dabbled with drugs, but what had she taken to make her act as she was?

Thunder cracked the sky, lighting up the night as I pushed my car to start and backed out of the driveway.

I drove half a block before I heard tires squeal and then metal meet metal.

As I raced towards the sound of the crash, the streets were slick with rain, each turn and swerve adding to my rising panic.

I prayed.

I hadn’t prayed in so long it felt wrong.

But I prayed hard and loud.

When I finally arrived at the scene, I was still in a residential area.

People were coming out of their houses to look, even in the rain.

I saw Maine's car, then the truck she collided with.

I stumbled out of my car, my heart pounding against my chest as if trying to break free.

I was dying.

The way Maine's car was nothing more than twisted metal told a truth I wasn’t ready to face.

I ran to the car anyway.

I only had access to the passenger side.

I pulled and tugged at the handle, trying to pry it open.

"Help me!" I screamed over and over.

But nobody did until a huge man rushed out of the crowd to help me.

Together, we pulled at the door until the metal groaned and gave way.

There was so much blood.

The airbags were in the way.

A police officer and another came out of nowhere and pulled me away before I could get to Maine.

Sirens wailed as the EMTs and ambulance arrived.

I knew Scarlett's laugh, cry, voice from anywhere.

But I think her screams of anguish would replace all of those memories and linger in my nightmares forever.

Scarlett was beside me now, her body shaking with sobs.

I reached out, wrapping my arms around her.

We watched as Maine was loaded into the ambulance.

I heard Scarlett praying, begging God to forgive her, making promises to be better.

It sounded like a song coming from her.

I knew following the ambulance to the hospital would be useless.

I had never fainted before, but I felt light-headed.

My heart was beating a million miles a minute.

I stumbled.

Scarlett righted me. “What's wrong, Troy?”

“My heart's breaking," I replied, grabbing my chest.

I could feel it physically breaking.

My chest burned and tightened.

Then my weight was too heavy for my legs.

I hit the street hard.

Scarlett screamed for help.

I felt hands on me and heard, “I think he’s having a heart attack," seconds before I blacked out.