Read Online PULSE: A Stepbrother Romance by Sarah Sparrows - Free Book Online Page A

warmth…even when she was empty
to the core.

 
    I admired the
skill. Sometimes, you have to be brave for others. Other times, you have to be
relentlessly happy for them. There is a certain kind of bravery in keeping up
the charade, even when everything within you wants to wilt you down to
nothingness.

 
    There had
been a carousel of girls that I dragged home and ravaged in my bed, but the
only way I could ever get it up was to flick the lights off and pretend that it
was her.

 
    It was always
her, at least to me.

 
    But I knew I
could never have her, and it pained me to think on how badly I wanted to hold
her face in my hands and wipe away her depression. I wanted nothing more than
to pull her into my arms and stave away her anxiety, her fear, all of it.

 
    Saffron
didn’t deserve to feel so empty all the time.

 
    And she
didn’t deserve me making things difficult.

 
    But I was
weak, and it was all I had. The only way that I could maintain my willpower and
keep my hands off of her, to prevent putting myself in a position where hearts
were devastated and relationships shattered.

 
    While I bit
into my apple and watched her struggle with the luggage, I wanted to cast it
away and flock to her side. I fought the urge to apologize, laugh at my own
stupidity, and help her pull everything upstairs.

 
    I needed her
to resent me.

 
    If she didn’t
– if we grew close – I wouldn’t be able to hold myself back. It
would come bubbling to the surface, out from the depths where it was chained up
and buried – a forgotten chest, lost within the darkest depths of me.
Within that chest was one irrefutable fact.

 
    I loved
Saffron Samuels with all my heart.

 
    And the knife
twisted inside that heart every fucking day.

 

 
 
    SAFFRON

 
    Chapter 7

 
    PENSACOLA

 
    PRESENT
DAY

 
 
 
    M oving everything up the stairs to my
bedroom was a complete pain in the ass, and it didn’t help that my jackass
roommate wasn’t willing to lift a finger. It took me over an hour to get
everything up into my room while he comfortably lounged in the den, relaxing in
front of the big screen television.

 
    Any time that
we made eye contact, I gave him the filthiest glare I could muster. Sawyer
would flash his smile and turn back to the television, sometimes fluffing a
pillow or folding his fingers behind the back of his head.

 
    What an asshole.

 
    While he
preoccupied himself with whatever the hell he was doing down there, I set about
unpacking.

 
    The Beach
House was built to favor large rooms
over many rooms, and I had a lot of
room to work with. This included the beautiful, robust cherrywood furniture
that helped tie the entire villa together. In my bedroom alone, I enjoyed the
company of a queen-sized four-poster bed, an end table on either side, two
dressers, two bookcases, shelves, and a vanity desk. There was also a spacious
walk-in closet – half the size of my old apartment bedroom.

 
    I had been
borderline broke for most of my life; as a result, I delighted in the simple
pleasure of owning things. My suitcases were filled with beautiful clothes that
I was going to enjoy for the summer, regardless of Sawyer’s stupid habit of
bothering me. Within an hour or two, they’d be empty and tucked away in the
bottom of the closet, while everything would be on display in their proper
places.

 
    My shoes fit
comfortably into a cubby bookcase, built into the left side. Next to them, I
hung up my array of dresses, and then on the other side I hung shirts, shorts,
and a few bathing suits. A few hats wound up on the bare pegs above, ready and
waiting to be proudly worn under the hot Pensacola sun.

 
    To one of my
drawers went my undergarments. I had taken great care to bring a spectrum of
matching attire. Out of the four drawers, I left the top one empty – just
in case. To the second drawer went my bras; to the third, I placed my panties;
the bottom received my socks. I