Read Online My Street Fighting Stepbrother - Book 1 (Stepbrother Erotic Romance) by Laila Cole - Free Book Online

Chapter 1

    Redmond, Oregon - Saturday, May
16 th ,
2009
     
    I cradled Jackson in my arms as he cried desperately
for his mother. I pacified him with a bottle of formula but it
would never replace his mother’s breast. I wished Janice would come
back but then again, what she’d done to my stepbrother Drake
Douglas was unforgivable. In all honesty if I saw the bitch again
I’d have smacked her across the face, and she’d have deserved
it.
     
    Not wanting to be a mother was one thing, and I
could understand that, but running off in the middle of the night
with the same god damn banker that had shut down the lumber mill in
Redmond, Oregon where Drake worked? Well that was another thing
entirely. All she ever cared about was money, and when Drake’s well
tapped out she just dug another hole, this one much deeper than the
last.
     
    While she was off living her Sex and the City
fantasy, Drake was left in Oregon, caught in the grips of one of
the worst recessions ever known. Bills piled up, tensions ran high,
and work, well, work didn’t exist.
     
    The entirety of it all crushed Drake like an old
aluminum can; he’d always placed value in being a provider and a
good, faithful husband. At the age of 28 he’d accomplished far more
than most ever would. But all of those accomplishments came
crashing down when she left him. I watched him crawl deeper into a
hole, grasping at the eroding soil walls for a way out. It broke my
goddamn heart.
     
    I guess I was lucky in a sense that I was in my
sophomore year at Oregon State University at Bend, and living on
loans. I didn’t have to worry much about money; those worries were
three years into the future, and the future wasn’t today.
     
    Last night Drake called me and asked if I could
watch Jackson. He’d caught on odd job at the Whispering Wind
Tavern. I was excited to see Jackson and help out; I loved his cute
little smile and couldn’t wait to hold him. Drake offered me money,
but I refused. I was excited for him; I hoped that he’d finally get
the break he needed to crawl out of his rut.
     
    I continued rocking Jackson in my arms. He’d been
fussy all night. I finally got him to sleep and placed him in his
crib, allowing myself to lie on the couch and relax. Drake said
he’d be home at 10:00 PM, but it was 11:30 PM and the second hand
kept ticking with him nowhere to be found.
     
    I dozed off a bit when I was startled by the sound
of the doorknob. “Drake? Is that you?” I said, the lights too dim
to see his face. One could never be too cautious given the rampant
increase in home invasions over the last two years due to the state
of the economy.
     
    “Hey Beth. I’m sorry I’m late. They needed me for
longer than I expected. How’s Jackson?” he said, his voice muffled
like he’d just been to the dentist.
     
    “He’s been fussy, but he’s fast asleep in his crib
now.” I stood up to go for the light switch when Drake stopped
me.
     
    “No!” he said. “Don’t touch it.”
     
    I grew worried. “Are you ok?”
     
    “I’m fine. Stop pestering me with questions.” He was
tenser than usual. He walked down the hallway toward the nursery
where Jackson slept.
     
    I followed him, sensing that something wasn’t quite
right.
     
    He dug his hands into the crib and grasped his son,
rocking him in his arms. As he turned around the moonlight
filtering through the blinds in the nursery lit his face. It was
swollen and bruised, his right eye sealed shut. “Oh my god, what
the hell happened to you?”
     
    I went to touch his face but he pulled away into the
darkness as he cradled his son. “It’s nothing. There was a brawl at
the bar. When I left a bunch of asshole bikers jumped me. That’s
why I’m running late. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
     
    With Jackson comforted he placed him back in his
crib and tried to act normal, like his face wasn’t swollen to twice
its normal size. “Hey Beth, how much do I owe you for sitting?”
     
    “It’s