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Vulture (a Stepbrother Romance) -(10)

By:Emilia Beaumont


She flinched, but stood with her feet planted as I placed it over her smaller but curvy form so that it fell around her. I waited patiently as she slithered her arms through the sleeves, and we began to walk again, making our way silently towards the exit. This time it was me who gave a light shiver from the frostiness of the night. I threw my head back and studied the millions of stars showcasing themselves while we waited for my driver to bring the car around. Their bright shapes glinted against the darkness of the sky. Sara looked, too, and I wondered what she was thinking. Did they give her hope or make her feel small and helpless? She used to be a glass half full kind of girl; I wasn’t too sure now.

It wasn’t long before the black car made an appearance. I opened the passenger door, and she slid in obediently, cramming herself into the far corner, clutching at my jacket.

“You OK?” I asked after a minute. What a stupid fucking question, you idiot.

She whipped around to face me and nodded, muttering a quiet and yet broken “yes” under her breath. I took that as my cue to stay quiet.

Once we arrived at her modest, four-bed semi-detached I helped her out, placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her towards the stairs that led up to the door. She hesitated at the threshold, wobbly, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. I took the keys from her purse and opened the door.

Unmoving, like a mime frozen in time, she peered into the gloom of the house. There were no lights to welcome her home and certainly she must’ve realised, the fact hitting her again and again, no husband, either.

“I can’t,” she muttered. “I thought I could do it, but now that I’m here, I just can’t go in.”

I nodded from behind her and placed my hands upon her shoulders, but like a scared cat she almost bolted. I withdrew. I hated myself for thinking it, but it’d been a long time I’d had any woman flinch from my touch, and I didn’t like it one bit.

“It’s OK, you can do this,” I replied and willed her to trust me.

Taking her hand, this time not letting go when she tried to shake me free, I stepped inside and looked at her, still standing on the outside step.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, I promise. I’m right here with you.”

Her wary green eyes searched mine, deciding what she should do, perhaps trying to detect if I was full of shit or not. But finally she nodded, and her foot moved forward.









“Here,” I said, pushing the glass into her hand. “Drink this while I make you dinner.”

Sara took the drink from my hand and downed it thirstily. I went back to the kitchen and grabbed what I could from her almost bare fridge. I glanced at my watch; it was too late to order in, but she was in luck. Amongst the bottles of condiments there were enough ingredients to make what could pass for a semi-nutritional sandwich.

When I went back, plate in hand, her head was lowered onto the armrest of the couch. Occasionally her eyelids blinked to let me know she was still awake. I placed the food on the coffee table and crouched down to her, the light from the kitchen illuminating the side of her face. She’d insisted on keeping the living room lights off, and I’d agreed.

“I forgot to go to the shops,” she muttered after a quick glance at the plate.

“Shh, it’s ok.”

My thumb gently smoothed over her forehead as she peered back into nothingness.

Fuck. I was so out of my depth. I had no clue what I could do to make it better or at least bearable for her. It was clear she didn’t want me holding her; I was already pushing it by stroking back her hair.

Suddenly she started speaking. A torrent of words falling from her mouth as if they’d been bottled up, desperately waiting for their chance to escape the pressurised canister. “I’ve tried to tell myself that everything’s going to be OK, that I can make a life for myself and go back to the way it used to be, but I know it won’t be the same. Not when Eric’s gone and left me. Left me. It sounds so stupid when I say it like that. As he’s just popped to the corner shop for a bottle of milk and a daily newspaper and decided not to come back.” She paused for a second, then her face twisted with rage. “How could he do this? I just don’t understand how any of this can happen.”

“You can’t process it all in one night. It’s going to take time,” I soothed as I watched her plump mouth begin to tremble. I opened my arms, the most natural thing I could ever do, inviting her in, and she fell into them, no longer resisting. I ran my hand up her back, wanting to reduce the pain she was feeling.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” I reassured her, though I cursed myself straightaway for letting myself say the hollow, meaningless words. There was no guarantee that it would all turn out OK, that she’d wake up and life would be a bed of fucking roses.