Page 54 of The Stepbrother 2: Noah

Noah woke me as I dozed on the massage table. I hadn’t even realized the masseuse had left.

Noah picked me up from the table bridal-style. There was no way I would have been able to walk; my bones felt like liquid. He carried me to the bathroom, where he had prepared a bath that looked like something out of a dream. The tub was filled with steaming water, surrounded by candles. The air was fragrant with vanilla. He eased me into the warm water. The heat on my skin made me want to fall asleep right there.

Noah knelt beside the tub. I side-eyed him when he reached for the shampoo but bit my lip. I didn’t want to ruin the moment by talking about not wetting my freshly blown-out hair. He carefully wet my hair, his fingers tender and skilled as he massaged the shampoo into my scalp, moving in slow, circular motions. My eyes rolled shut.

Rinsing my hair, he applied conditioner, combing through and braiding it into big, sloppy plaits. He didn’t do a good job, but if he asked, I’d lie. He bathed me, then helped me stand, turned on the shower, and rinsed me off.

I was so sleepy when he helped me out of the tub. I could have slept standing up. He dried me with a big, fluffy white towel, then dried my hair with a T-shirt, just like I always did, before sliding a bonnet he got from somewhere over my head. He helped me into a sleep T-shirt and into bed. I watched with half-closed eyes as he took off his shirt and jeans before sliding into bed next to me. If he wanted me to forgive him, he was forgiven.

Just before sleep took me, I felt Noah’s breath on my ear. "Would you like me to suck your pussy for you? You sleep better after you’ve nutted."

I would definitely take him up on his nasty offer later.

I shook my head slightly. He wrapped his arms around me, and the last thing I remember was the kiss he placed at the nape of my neck. Today was a good day.

Scarlett-

"So tell me about your relationship with your mother," my therapist inquired, her light brown eyes were fixed on me from behind her laptop screen. Ms. Avery Shug was in her early seventies. I had picked her as my therapist because something told me she would be able to help. She just had this aura about her. She was tiny, oak-colored, with a full head of gray hair hanging down, and she had one of those voices you just wanted to listen to. But sometimes she was annoying.

I hesitated, caught off guard by how serious the first question of our session today was. She had never asked about my mother. Mostly, she asked about how I’m feeling or felt in the past mentally. "Uh, why does that matter?" I asked, my reluctance evident in my tone.

Ms. Avery leaned back, her expression unreadable. "Understanding your past relationships can help us make sense of your current feelings and behaviors," she explained gently.

I sighed. I didn’t want to participate, but I knew my relationship with Creed and my marriage depended on me participating in the solo sessions and then the family ones that would soon start. I hated talking about myself. But I started. "My mother was my world, you know? Because my father wasn’t there. She used to talk to me like I was a grown-up. But everything changed when she got married." My voice trailed off, a lump forming in my throat.

"How did it change?" Ms. Avery prodded softly.

"I became an afterthought. All her attention was on my stepfather and on trying to get my stepbrother not to hate her.Her relationship with my stepfather was shady as fuck. She was his dying wife's nurse. I still remember the whispers that started when she married my stepfather.

I married my stepbrother, by the way... She didn’t even talk to me for years after that." I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. I loathed telling people Troy was my stepbrother. Despite the fact we had never seen each other as siblings and were entirely different races, people looked at us like we committed incest. I avoided Ms. Avery's eyes.

"And how did her changing make you feel?"

"Forgotten. Worthless. Especially when the only time she paid attention to me was to tell me what I needed to do with my life or to tell me I was messing up..." The words tumbled out, sounding bitter. Truth be told, I was. But I don’t see how this information helps. I’m being accused of treating my stepdaughter better than my blood daughter.

Ms. Avery nodded. “Do you think you treated Maine better than Creed?”

I paused to think. “No, I treated them differently, but neither better. Maybe I overcompensated with Maine sometimes so I wouldn’t look like the angry, jilted stepmother mistreating the child her husband created while cheating on her."

Ms. Avery's expression softened. "It sounds like you were trying to navigate a complex family dynamic, Scarlett. It's understandable to make mistakes in these situations. Have you talked to Creed about it, explained your side?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think Creed would care. She just wants someone to blame for her anger."

"And what is she angry about?”

I told her about the DJ situation.

When she took her glasses off at the end, I knew she was about to say something I wouldn’t like. I braced myself for it. “I have been a fan of you and your husband for a long time. I’ve spoken to Troy. I know that he didn’t tell you about his issues, which resulted in his affair and the conception of Maine. How did you feel when he kept that from you?" She didn’t give me a chance to reply. “Now imagine how Creed felt. It’s not the same, but you did something darn close to her to what Troy did to you."

“Fuck,” I sat there, stunned, as her words sank in. The parallel had never occurred to me.

"How do I even begin to make this right?" I asked, feeling overwhelmed.

"An apology would be a good start," she advised.

“I tried to apologize, but she was so angry,” I said, feeling defensive.

Ms. Avery shook her head. “I don’t think you actually tried to apologize, not from the way you responded earlier. You said she wants someone to blame for her anger. But the fact is, she has every right to be angry, and you are to blame for it. You lied to her. This time, make sure it comes from a place of genuine understanding and remorse, not just as a way to smooth things over because you no longer feel she should be angry."

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