Stepbrother Billionaire(9)

“Not so fast!” she cries, seizing her son by the arm. “It’s not every day that I can manage to snag you and Abby for a chat. Come on! We’re having family time!”

“Are you high or something?” Emerson grumbles. I can tell by his inflection that it’s an honest question. I wonder what it must have been like for him, growing up with a single mom who had substance abuse issues. My dad’s drinking didn’t get bad until Mom passed away, and by then I was already fourteen. But from what I understand, Deb’s drinking has been going on for most of Emerson’s life. My heart twists painfully just thinking about what a rough go he must have had. No wonder he’s got more defense strategies than The Pentagon.

“This is so wonderful,” Deb goes on, forcing Emerson into a chair across the table from me. We immediately avert our eyes, looking anywhere but at each other. The uncomfortable silence between us is deafening in this enclosed space. What I wouldn’t give for a trap door or an ejection seat right now.

“While we’ve got you both here,” my dad finally cuts in, wrapping an arm around Deb’s waist. “We should talk about your birthdays this weekend.”

“Birthdays?” Emerson asks, his brow furrowing.

“As in plural?” I add, looking up at my dad.

“Sure! Haven’t you guys figured it out yet?” Dad laughs, “Your birthdays are only one day apart! Abby’s is May 4th, and Emerson’s is May 3rd.”

A satisfied grin spreads across Emerson’s face as he leans back in his chair. For the first time since that night at the party, he swings his gaze directly my way.

“Look at that,” he says, keeping those blue eyes locked on mine. “I am your big brother after all.”

“Oh, that’s so precious!” Deb swoons. “I’m so glad you two are feeling more like family. That makes me so, so happy. What should we do to celebrate your eighteenth birthdays? Bowling? The movies?”

“I was gonna buy a shit load of porn, cigarettes, and scratch off lottery tickets and have myself a private party,” Emerson says bluntly. “You all are more than welcome to join in. Though things might get a little...awkward.”

I tear my eyes away from his at this last bit, feeling my cheeks burning hotly. He’s baiting me. I can tell.

“Honestly, Emerson,” Deb says, her cheerful veneer cracking, “Do you have to shit all over every nice thing I try to do for you?”

“Don’t worry, Deb. He was just kidding,” my dad coos, planting a kiss on his girlfriend’s forehead. “Weren’t you, Emerson?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Sport,” Emerson replies shortly, slapping his palms against the table. “Now, as fun as this has been, I’ve got things to do.”

He strolls out of the kitchen, pausing for half a second to snatch a bag of chips out of the cupboard. Deb is so pissed off at his behavior that she and my dad don’t even try to stop me as I hurry off after Emerson.

“Hey,” I call to him, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up. “Emerson, wait.”

“What. Did I steal your afternoon snack?” he grins over his shoulder, holding the chips up over my head. His favorite game. “If you can grab ‘em you can have ‘em!”

“Yeah, no. I’m not interested in your chips,” I say, standing before him on the landing. “I just wanted to know if we’re on speaking terms again now or what.”

“What do you mean, Sis?” he asks, ripping open the bag and popping a chip into his mouth. This boy can even making chewing sexy. Goddamn him.

“I mean...are you done giving me the cold shoulder?” I press him. “You’ve been avoiding me since that party the other night. When we—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Emerson chuckles. “You are way paranoid. I haven’t been avoiding you. I just haven’t noticed you. There’s been other shit going on. And you’re pretty easy to miss.”

“Bullshit,” I snap, taking a step toward him. “I know you’ve been going out of your way not to see me ever since that stupid game in the closet. Something...happened between us, and—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, the joking laughter fading from his voice. “But I do know that I don’t want to hear another word about it out of you. OK?”

“You can’t just pretend that nothing happened!” I cry out, exasperated.

“Keep your voice down,” he growls, glancing down at the kitchen where our parents are still talking in hushed tones.

“I won’t. Not unless we can have a real conversation about this,” I say at full volume, crossing my arms. “You owe me that, at least.”

“You are so f*cking impossible,” he says, shoving a hand through his chestnut hair. “OK. Fine. You wanna take a drive or something? Will that shut you up?”

Despite the context of his offer, my stomach still does a thrilled somersault at the idea of being alone with him. “Sure,” I say, “Let’s hit the road. Bro.”

“I hope you know I’m just using you as an excuse to get out of this house again,” he grumbles, dropping the chips onto the floor and storming off down the stairs. I follow right behind him, wondering whether or not he’s f*cking with me. At this moment, it doesn’t much matter. I’m just happy that he’s speaking to me again at all.