Chapter 4

4

Colver

THE PAST PART

I thought I heard a noise outside the bedroom.

If it was one of the maids I planned on losing my mind.

It's not a fucking maid though.

At least I don't think this girl looking up at me with terror in her eyes is a maid.

She's looks homely. Maybe even a little homeless.

Messy hair, hoodie with the sleeves frayed and worn, a book bag hanging off her shoulder.

My greeting isn't calm or nice, but who said I was either of those things?

It doesn't help the situation that I've got a girl in the bedroom, under the covers, hiding. Just in case.

It really doesn't help that the girl under the covers is Maria.

Now I'm sure you don't know Maria, which is fine.

Maria has been dating Lucas Anovan.

Again, you don't know that name either.

Lucas is the star of the lacrosse team.

A good boy in a sense.

Good grades. Cleans up nice.

The type who wants to save himself for marriage kind of vibe.

Poor Maria.

Stuck with Lucas because their parents are close and she and Lucas grew up as friends with the full intention of the two getting together and living happily ever after.

It wasn't my idea to pop Maria's cherry. It wasn't my idea to have this lusty little affair with her either.

She texts. I answer.

And I'm always readily available.

It's as simple as that, and I don't think you need to know anything about that situation.

I'm way more concerned about the girl standing in front of me.

"I'm Abrielle," she says.

" What-ielle ?" I ask. "Gabrielle?"

"No G ," she says.

"What does that mean? You don't have a G-spot ? You sure about that?"

Her face bursts with red color.

She gasps and steps back. "Uh, sorry for bothering you."

Her eyes look at my body.

That's fine.

"Jack told me to-"

"Jack," I say. "My father?"

"Your father," she whispers. "Oh. I didn't know he had kids."

"Just a kid, " I say. "Me. One and done kind of thing. Let me guess, you're the daughter of the woman he married?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful. Just what I need around here. Someone snooping in my business."

"I'm not snooping," she says. "I swear. Your father told me to check out this bedroom in case I want it."

"In case you want… it…" I curl my lip again. "I'll tell you what bedroom you can have, okay? Who the hell do you think you are? You just strut in here and think you can move right in?"

"It's not like that," she says.

"I think it is," I say. "Is that all you have with you? A bag over your shoulder?"

"Yes."

"Abrielle, huh? You're so poor you can't afford the G to make it a real name."

Abrielle lets out a gasp and backs up some more.

Just like that there are tears in her eyes.

"Oh, fuck," I whisper. "Really?"

She turns and takes off running.

I shrug my shoulders.

At least I got rid of her.

The moment has come and gone with Maria so I show her the door.

Literally.

She sneaks out the sliding glass door, messy hair, puppy dog in love eyes, smiling at me. She hurries to the right and sneaks through one of the gardens to her parked SUV and will drive herself home.

I know I'm not a good person. No need to try and justify a thing.

I'm not afraid of Lucas either. No need to be. When the time comes and he finds out I've been railing his girl, he'll come after me. We'll throw a few punches. That'll be that.

What do you expect from me?

This is life.

The only thing I've got going for me tucked deep into my back pocket is my hockey career. And I say the word career because that's what it is. I've already got offers for full rides from dozens of colleges across the country. I even have offers from pro teams, here and globally, wanting in on the business of Colver Caspian.

I have an agent too.

It's a wild ride.

I keep myself grounded by sticking to the game of hockey.

And acting like a total asshole to anyone within a mile of my orbit.

With Maria gone, I put my shirt back on and leave the bed nice and messy.

The bedroom is nice. It's got a great view of the outside. Some of the pool. Easy to get in and out of the house. Hence the reason Maria always uses that door.

It looks as though my old man got hitched again, huh?

He loves women, that's for sure.

It's a never ending revolving door of them.

One-night stands. Weekend getaways.

The occasional wife.

The last one was a real nut case. She would drink a bottle of wine and ask me how old I was. When she realized I was eighteen, she forgot all about my father.

Believe me, I never went near her. There is a level of depravity I won't touch and she was it.

She screwed one of the landscapers in the bed of his pickup truck and one of the security cameras caught it.

My old man though, he just rolls with things in life.

He booted that wife out and went away to clear his mind.

That was six months ago.

Now he's married again.

He lives and loves really fast. Which he always tells me contributed to his success.

I'm a little more reserved, at least in the marriage and love department.

As I walk to the bedroom door my phone vibrates.

I heard another girls voice… sorry to bring it up.

"Oh, fucking hell," I growl.

Maria, stay out of my personal life. You're good for one thing. That's it.

Maybe I shouldn't send that to her, but oh well.

The text is sent. I can't take it back.

You just broke my fucking heart. Maybe we should never see each other again. Let this secret die right here.

I roll my eyes and don't even bother responding.

I leave the bedroom and start walking down the hallway.

The next bedroom door is slightly ajar and I see movement.

It's my house. I can enter any fucking room I want, whenever I fucking want.

Simple as that.

I place my hand to the door and swing it open.

Abrielle - Gabrielle without the G - turns, sees me, and jumps.

"You scared me," she whispers.

"Boo," I say. "What are you doing in here?"

"You know what? Whatever. Do you want to pick my bedroom for me? Do you think I want to be here? Do you think I'm happy my mother married your father? And, oh, by the way, I just met your father like ten minutes ago!"

"So, what, you're my stepsister now, huh?" I ask with a cocky smirk.

Abrielle scoffs. "Sure. If that's how you want to view it. Why does that matter?"

I shut the bedroom door.

Abrielle swallows hard.

Oh, she's afraid of me.

She probably should be.

"What's the play here?" I ask. "Is your mother looking for money? A quick million or something from my old man?"

"How would I know that?"

"You have that aura about yourself."

"And what aura is that?"

"Your hair. Your clothes. Your shitty looking bag. You smell like cheap body spray and a moldy apartment."

Abrielle gasps.

Her eyes well with tears. Again.

"You're evil," she whispers. "You are a scumbag… whoever you are."

"That's right. You don't even know my name. My father is married to your mother. You're now living in my house. And you don't even know my name. Isn't that fucked up?"

"Yes!" Abrielle yells, her voice crackling as she breaks down into tears. "It's super fucked up! Okay? Is that what you want me to say right now? And, yeah, guess what, I'm poor! Our apartment? It didn't have electricity. It got shut off. So, yeah, all I have is this bag. That's it. I can't control what my mother does. Or why. Happy now? You fucking bastard!"

Tears run down her cheeks and she runs to a window.

She stands there, hugging herself.

I watch the way her fingers dig at herself.

My jaw tightens.

If I even had a morsel of remorse, I'd just cut it in half with my teeth.

I walk toward Abrielle.

My new stepsister?

Really?

As though this fling between my father and her mother will actually last more than a week.

I get close to her.

Really close.

She looks over her shoulder, gasps, and is ready to jump through the window to get away from me.

I touch her arms. At her elbows.

Soft.

Just to keep her frozen in place.

I lean down closer to Abrielle.

"Just so you know, my name is Colver… and I can't help but want to make your life a living hell while you're here… sister…"

I stand in the kitchen with a can of soda watching my old man show Abrielle's mother around outside.

They're flirty and playful.

That's how it always starts with my old man.

He's the happiest guy in the world until he isn't.

Abrielle peeks around the corner like a scared kitten.

That's when I decide to name her just that.

Kitten.

"I don't bite," I say to her. "Unless I'm provoked."

"Do you mind if I look for a drink?" Abrielle whispers.

I place my hand to the stainless steel doors. "Five bucks or I see some tits."

The words just fly out of my mouth.

I don't really mean it… okay?

It's just something all the guys do.

We all do it.

At parties and whatnot.

Most of the time the girls giggle and flirt back. Sometimes they actually lift their shifts.

Abrielle gasps with shock.

The heavy glass door opens and in walks the newlyweds.

If I knew where anything was in the kitchen I'd throw some fucking rice at their faces.

Maybe some boiling water instead.

"And this is the pride and joy of the house," my old man says, pointing to me. "This is my son, Colver."

"Clover?" Abrielle's mother asks.

Abrielle's snorts with laughter.

I look in her direction and she turns and hurries outside.

Fucking naughty kitten… I'll make her pay for that later…

"Colver," I correct my new alleged stepmom.

"I am so sorry about that," she says in a happy voice. "You know, Abrielle gets that all the time. Gabrielle . You two should get along just on that alone!"

"Definitely," I say.

I feel my father staring daggers at me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," I say.

"Heather."

"Heather," I say. "What a beautiful name that is."

"Charming young man you are."

"Runs in the family, right, Dad?"

That gets a laugh out of both of them.

I smile.

Look at this bullshit. This fake family bullshit.

"Can I get you a drink, sweetie?" my old man asks his new bride.

"Something to celebrate us?" Heather asks.

Ut-oh, there it is. The shovel is in the ground, digging already.

"Most expensive wine I've got?"

"Only if you love me."

I can fucking throw up right now.

I properly excuse myself and walk back to the hallway where Abrielle and I were so perfectly introduced.

I don't hesitate for a second to go into the room she's chosen (so far).

Her bag is on the bed.

The way I see it is her bag is on the bed that's in the house I live in.

She needs to learn how to protect her shit and herself.

Welcome to having a fucking family, kitten.

There are two parts to her bag.

The first one is all clothes.

If this is all she has, then damn. That's tough. Proves her mother really is a fucking flake. My fingers are tempted to dig around. See what kind of panties she likes to wear. Thongs maybe. Or better yet. What's her bra size…

I sigh and skip that idea.

I open the second part of her bag and it's all art supplies.

Paintbrushes, paper, pencils and all that kind of shit.

I take out a notebook and flip it open.

"Oh, fuck," I whisper.

Abrielle is good. Like really good.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I turn my head and here comes my new stepsister, running toward me.

"Snooping," I say. "It's my house. I can do whatever I want."

"The fuck you can," Abrielle growls.

She launches herself at me.

I'm surprised at her being so daring.

She's on my back, clawing at me and the notebook.

She ends up ripping a page from it and then I toss it across the room.

She races to her notebook and falls to her knees.

Fuck, is she crying again?

Abrielle looks back at me, shaking. "I didn't ask for this, Colver. I didn't ask for any of it."

"We both didn't ask for it, kitten ," I say, trying out my new word.

"You're an asshole."

"I know I am. You should find a way to keep your shit better kept."

I walk to the bedroom door and pause.

"You should take the other bedroom," I say. "It's got more windows. Better views. You'll be able to draw and paint."

I leave, leaving for good this time.

Walking around this fucking house with Abrielle and her mother has already pissed me off enough.

I'd rather be at hockey practice. Even if I'm the only one on the ice.

Plus… I just realized something…

Was I just kind of nice to my new little kitten?