Betrayed Into My Bully Stepbrother's Arms

Emery's point of view 

I spent three hours waiting in the snow for a boy who was too busy sleeping with my best friend to remember I existed. If I had known, I would’ve stopped praying he wasn’t dead.

11:47 p.m and I was still standing outside Bean Street Café with snow falling on my eyelashes, staring at Allen’s unread messages like they might suddenly turn into an explanation that didn’t hurt.

I texted him one last time, my fingers trembling from the cold. Are you okay?The message was delivered instantly, but no reply came.

The thought that something bad had happened to him made my chest tight with fear. My tricycle had broken down three days ago, and he was the one who insisted on picking me up after work tonight.

“I’ll be there before your cafe closes,” he’d said this morning while pulling me into his arms outside school. 

I swallowed hard, my eyes looked at my phone blinking red; the low battery sign flashed like a deadly warning and I finally gave up waiting.

The cold had already settled into my bones by the time I stepped off the sidewalk and started walking home.

Each step crunched heavily beneath my boots while snow soaked the hem of my jeans. I kept my head down against the wind, trying not to think how miserable my life had turned in the past three months.

Dad died of kidney failure two months ago and mom…mom stopped caring about everything, except…one thing.

A frustrated sigh left my lungs before I could stop it. At least you still have skating, a voice whispered in my head and my lips curved into a small smile.

Figure skating was the last surviving piece of myself I hadn’t lost yet, the rink was the only place that ever loved me back.

I slowly climbed the stairs to my apartment, I pushed open the door quietly and instantly regretted it.

My mother was tangled in some man’s lap on the couch, their lips making irritating, loud kissing sounds, like she was trying to erase every memory of my father from this apartment.

“Jesus Christ, Emery,” she snapped, jerking away from the man. “You could at least make noise before barging in.”

I stared at her silently.

Snow dripped from my coat onto the floor, she didn’t even notice, or maybe she did and simply didn’t care.

The man beside her looked uncomfortable immediately. He was older than the usual men she brought home, probably late forties, "She's your daughter,” he muttered. “You shouldn’t talk to her like that.”

I almost laughed, that was new, no man had ever defended me in this house before.

Mom rolled her eyes dramatically, adjusting her lipstick from the screen of the television. “Emery’s dramatic, ignore her attitude.”

“I’m dramatic?” My voice cracked from cold and disbelief. “You’re half naked in the living room.”

“Oh please.” She folded her arms. “You act like you’re the parent here.”

The man stood up, tall and broad shouldered with streaks of gray near his temples wearing expensive watches and shoes. Definitely too polished for our tiny apartment. 

He smiled at me carefully; “I guess this is a bad time to say we’re getting married.”

Silence hit the room, I stared at him, then at my mother, then back at him.

“You’re joking.”

“No,” mom answered flatly. “We’re engaged.”

Something inside me snapped so fast it scared even me.

“Absolutely not.”

Mom barked out a laugh. “Excuse me?”

“You can’t marry some random man you barely know!”

“We’ve been dating for eight months.”

“You dated Rick for ten months before he stole our rent money!”

Her expression hardened instantly.

“That’s enough.”

“No, it’s not enough! Dad dies and suddenly you’re bringing strangers home every week acting like none of us ever existed!”

The room went deadly still and I knew I had crossed the line.

Mom’s face turned cold. “Your father is dead, Emery,” she said quietly. “I’m still alive, and I’ll do whatever I want. You don’t get a vote in this house.”

The words hit harder than a slap, even the man beside her looked disturbed.

“Susan…” he warned softly, but she ignored him.

“You’ll accept this marriage…or you leave my house and my life, you're fucking old enough afterall!.”

I looked at her for a long moment, trying to find even a trace of the mother I used to love, 

I found nothing.

So I turned around and walked to my room before she could see my eyes burning.

The door slammed behind me, I peeled off my wet clothes slowly, my body aching from the cold, then wrapped myself in blankets while my phone charged beside the bed.

A notification popped up; missed call from Allen. I grabbed the phone so quickly it almost fell from my hands and called back instantly.

He answered after two rings, relief crashed through me immediately.

“Allen? Oh my God, where are you? I was getting worried…” A soft moan interrupted me.

I froze, at first, I thought I heard wrong, then came the sound of sheets moving, then heavy breathing, then another moan. “Oh God… Allen…” My blood turned to ice, I knew that voice. 

“Oh Jenna, your mouth feels incredible on my dick,” Allen's voice filled my ears like a curse, then he began groaning softly, spilling sweet names on my best friend.

The phone slipped from my fingers onto the bed. The betrayal was so massive my brain refused to process it all at once.

Tears burned my eyes, but before they could fall, another notification buzzed across my screen. I almost ignored it until I saw the sender. 

Coach Reynolds, I stared at it blankly before opening the message.

You’ll begin private early morning training tomorrow at 6 a.m. Xavier specifically requested you. Don’t be late.

I reread the message twice, then a third time, and my heart slowly stopped beating. For three years, Xavier Vaughn had perfected the art of ruining me in public, which begged the terrifying question of what exactly he planned to do in private.