Drawn to You (Lover to Stepbrother)(48)

“Took your time,” Leo says with a glass of brandy in his hand. The years have been good for the boys. They have gotten bigger and better looking. Their fashion sense has changed and if they weren’t like brothers to me, I would hit on them.

“Sasha has a stalker,” Karen says like it’s a normal thing to say.

“It’s always the lead singers who get stalkers.” Brady pouts as the limo sets off.

“I chose the wrong placement in the band. Anyone want to switch?”

“I’m good.” Everyone says at once.

“Thanks,” I grumble.

“Chin up, lets head to the club, drink, and dance the night away. You never know, you may get a good fuck before the night is out.” Karen winks at me.

“We’ll see.” I smile at her and she passes me a flute of champagne.





Colin


I groan out into the room when my head starts banging. I feel like someone has got a jackhammer against my skull. The banging continues and I realize it’s not my head but my front door. I sit up from my couch, the place spinning a little.

I can’t believe I fell asleep on my couch again.

The banging continues. I feel like I could break someone’s face with how loud they are. I stand up, heading to the door, shouting to them that I’m coming but the knocking doesn’t stop. I open the door to see my father.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” He walks past me into my home. He looks around, his nose scrunched up. The place is a mess. Take-out boxes laying everywhere, empty bottles covering the floor and coffee table. I can’t even remember the last time I tidied up the place.

“You look like shit,” he says. I close the door and plonk back down on the couch. I lean forward, lifting up some empty cans of beer until I find one that’s half full and I take a long sip.

“You came here to tell me that? Thanks, Dad, I feel the love.” He stands in front of me, taking the drink from my hands. “I was drinking that,” I whine.

“Look at you…” He points down my body at the food stains on my shirt that have probably been there for days. When was the last time I had a shower? Shit, I probably stink. “It’s been a year, son, please stop doing this to yourself.” I stand up, walking away from him. I don’t need to hear his pity.

“What do you want, Dad? I know you’re not here just to rub in my face how shit my life is.” I turn and he is standing right there, watching me.

“I need your help.” I start to laugh. He needs my help? Now that’s funny.

“You need my help? I’m sure you could find someone else. If you don’t mind, I need to continue in my self-sorrow.” I head to the kitchen, fuck it’s even worse in here. I open the fridge to see its bare but I see a half bottle of vodka.

Score.

I grab a glass nearby, giving it a quick rinse under the tap before filling it up. Taking the first sip burns my throat but soon I will start to go numb. That’s what I need right now.

“I need your help,” I hear him say again behind me.

“I heard you, but I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’m useless.” I take another sip before the glass leaves my lips. I watch my father smash it into the sink. “What the fuck?”

“I get that you’re hurt, I get that your dream was crushed. I have given you space that you requested but I just can’t sit by and watch you throw your life away drinking. You are better than that.”

“Why can’t you just ignore me like you did when I was a kid? Where was all this love back then? Now you decide to become the father of the year? Be Mr. Family man?” I scoff at him.

“How many times do I need to apologize for that? I messed up. I know that, but I am trying to make up for the years I was a dick. I love you, son, I can’t watch you be like this.” His voice softens.

“It’s too late, Dad, this is who I am now. So, if you could please go.” I start to walk to the door to kick him out.

“Sasha’s in trouble.” I freeze to a stop. I turn to make sure he isn’t joking; looking into his eyes, I know he’s serious.

“Is she hurt?” He shakes his head and I exhale the breath that I was holding.

“Someone has been stalking her. It started off as flowers and letters but they are getting into her changing rooms.”

“It could be some groupie. Flowers and notes are nothing.” I watch him take out a brown envelope and he passes it to me. The words that I see haunt me. Soon, Sasha. Soon. I look inside to see photo after photo of Sasha sleeping.

My eyes trail over her.

I haven’t seen her in years. The last time I spoke to her was when she called me when we were supposed to have that family dinner. When I got recruited. It feels like a lifetime ago. I’ve watched on the news and on social media of her reaching the big time. Her dreams have come true.

I continue looking through the pictures, seeing her sleeping in different rooms, which must be hotel rooms. One place I assume is her house as I can see the family photos in the background. I stop at one when I see a hand on her leg. I look closer and can tell it’s a man’s hand, its masculine.

Whoever is stalking her can touch her. It makes my skin crawl that she has been alone. Being vulnerable and this sicko being close to her.

“Why hasn’t he made his move yet?” I look up to my dad.