Page 59 of The Stepbrother 2: Noah

"I want you gone, Tiffany. I'm not my mother. I won't spend thirty years fighting back and forth with you. I'm telling you right now, if I see you again—" I let the rest of the threat hang in the air.

Noah came up behind me. "It's not worth it, Creed. Think about our daughter. You don’t want to watch her grow up from prison," he said softly. He was right. As much as I despised Tiffany, my actions now would affect the future of my daughter. But I needed her to understand I wasn't playing.

"That's the thing. It would be worth it. But you and I both know it—I could gut her right here and call Tempest, and she'd have it cleaned up for me within the hour. Nobody would ever know what I did, but me and you, and we ain’t talking," I said.But I relaxed my grip, I eased the blade away from her throat. I stepped back, forcing myself to breathe, to feel the ground under my feet. I let Noah take the knife from my hand. Tiffany practically ran out of the door. I turned back to Noah. He was staring at me in disbelief. I grabbed his hand, placing it on my belly. "Feel. She would start moving while something violent ishappening." It was the first time I felt my daughter move. A little bit of my grief dissipated.

Noah-

Everyone was gone. Creed and her parents were sleeping. I waited patiently until the staff had finished cleaning and left for the night, before making my way to the backyard. The cool night air enveloped me. I loosened my tie so I could breathe a bit more easily, leaving it, along with my jacket, on a pool chair. Then I picked up one of the pillows.Tears streamed down my face, and I hated myself for it.

Passing the pool and the guest house, I walked to the edge of the property. Once I stepped onto the grass, I kicked off my shoes. At the very edge, I stopped and raised the pillow I’d taken, pressing it over my mouth to let out the scream that had been trapped in my chest for a week—since the night they called and told me my sister was dead. I felt so much guilt because I should have noticed the signs that she wasn’t doing alright.

This outpouring of anguish allowed me to breathe more freely. Tears streamed down my face, unrestrained. In front of everyone, I needed to be the one holding it together, to share my strength with others. Nobody had asked me to, but I knew I was strong enough. I just needed a second. The pain was too real, too deep. If I took just these few minutes to be weak, I knew I could live the rest of my life strong. Creed needed me, and my makeshift family needed me.

I didn’t hear her approach, but I didn’t startle when she wrapped her arms around me, covering me with something warm—the comforter from our bed. She lowered herself to the ground, pulling me down with her, and we sank into the cool grass.I felt myself fall apart all over again. Creed didn’t say anything, didn’ttry to fix it or offer empty words, she just held me, humming softly until I stopped sobbing.

“Nobody would think any less of you if you cried for our sister in front of them, Noah. But I understand why you don’t want to,” she said softly.

In that momentas she held me in silence, I realized that Creed had become my anchor. In the face of everything—my family’s loss, my guilt, and my grief—I knew we would make it. No matter what life threw at us.

Creed-

To my beautiful daughter Creed,

You know I've always found solace in written words, where thoughts can find clarity that spoken words sometimes lack. And as you’ve witnessed, my words never come out right when I say them, so I decided to write you an old-fashioned letter.

I want to start off by saying I’m sorry. I’m profoundly sorry, Creed, for the words I left unspoken, the hugs I didn't wrap you in, and the praise that should have been yours but wasn’t given. It took a hard talk with my therapist and what happened to Maine for me to finally sit back and do some real self-reflection.

I know that after what Maine did, some people might expect me to disown her or talk down about her. But I won’t. I loved that little girl for so long that I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. I grew up feeling unwanted at times, and once she was in my care, I didn’t want that feeling for her. So, I overcompensated. I was very aware of what I was doing but didn’t think it mattered. Jason didn’t mind how much time I spent with Maine because he didn’t want the attention from me, he and your father were close. And yes, I treated you differently. Now, I wish I had been there for you more. I would have been, if I’d known my absence would make you think I loved you less. I just thought you needed me less.

If anyone didn’t need coddling, it was you. You were your father's and my love child. The first who had nine worry-free months to grow. You came out of the womb swinging and running your mouth—such a fierce little thing. You were strong and resilient from day one.

But I knew, with your father's and my careers, and you being the youngest, you wouldn’t get the amount of attention you might have needed to thrive. That’s why you’re the only one with a godparent. The day Compton saw you for the first time, he was enamored, and he stayed that way until the end. Now, I understand some of his criticisms about how we raised you and why he spent so much time with you.

He saw you, really saw you, in ways I now wish I had. So yes, I thought you’d be okay. And I’m sorry for not being emotionally intelligent enough to know that one kind of love doesn’t replace another.

I’m sorry for not knowing how to express that love.

So, I’m turning a new leaf. From this day forward, I swear to love you like the most loving person I know—none other than your father. And here’s where the letter goes south, because to your father, love is action, it’s forceful. He tells you what he’s going to do to love you better, and then he does it, whether you want it or not (smile).

So here is my version of a Troy love declaration.

I’m sorry I hurt you, but we can’t keep going on like this. I miss you. I need your energy in my life. I have a grandbaby on the way, and she won’t grow up with me in the shadows of her life. I will be at the hospital when you give birth. I’ll pay to have someone sneak me in if I have to—and you know I have money, influence, and I can talk people into anything. I will show up at birthday parties, the first day of kindergarten, and graduations. God Himself won’t be able to keep me away. And every time you see me, I’ll beg your forgiveness until we’re back to the point where we tell each other our secrets and buy matching sneakers for our birthdays.

I know you’re hurting right now. And I want to be there for you, but I know you need time. So, I’m giving you space, because I know Noah will move heaven and earth to make sure you’re alright.

But not too much time. I will call you tomorrow to start my apology tour. Then I’ll be seeing you in a few months, Creed. I love you!

Love you!!

After reading the letter my mother sent me, all I could do was sit for a moment and cry. She didn’t realize that these were exactly the words I needed to hear. I’d been worrying whether I could be a good mother, but now I was almost certain I could be. Mom was learning from her mistakes, and in her own way, she was teaching me, too.

So, as I wiped away my tears, I made a decision. I would let her in. It wouldn’t be easy, and it wouldn’t happen overnight, but I owed it to both of us to try.

Creed-

Noah startled me when he approached. I think I’d been sitting looking out the windows for hours, mind blank. He crouched to my chair. “Tell me what you need, Creed—what you really need to get through this sadness I see in you. I know Maine's death has been hard on you, but I don’t want us to go backwards. Your blood pressure is finally stable, and you’re due for a healthy pregnancy. Just tell me what I can do to make things better… anything,” he paused, then added, “anything that isn’t dangerous.”

I felt tears starting to well up again. Scrunching my nose, I stared into Noah's eyes, feeling the weight of his concern. “I don’t know… Just fix it.”

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