Series: Peach State Stepbros Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“That’s a pretty glass house the kid born with a silver spoon in his ass is throwing a stone from,” I note.
“You think that’s so clever, don’t you? How long have you had that one in your head, waiting to spit it out at the right opportunity so you could sound smart?”
“You’re right. What sort of dumb jock could think of that off the top of his head? I guess I should come clean. You’ll find out sooner or later. When I’m at school, I actually have a notebook where I come up with clever retorts for when my asshole stepbrother starts talking shit. I don’t even do any of the work in my classes because I’m too busy trying to think of all the things I can say to make him think I’m clever because I care so much about his opinion of me.”
“You must be really obsessed with this stepbrother if you talk about him in the third person even when you’re with him.”
“Well, he’s the kind who talks about himself in the third person, so it goes hand in hand.” I turn to give him a quick wink.
“He sounds like a cool guy,” Atlas says.
“I must not be describing him very well, then. He’s the kind who keeps to himself because he thinks everyone else is so beneath him.”
“Oh, that’s why he keeps to himself? You know him that well? At least it’s better than the guy who forms his whole identity around high school and is so desperate for attention that he’s always wearing his jersey in the halls and nabbing acquaintances so he can be voted prom king. I don’t know if I ever told you, but congratulations, by the way.”
“It’s delayed, but appreciated, even though I know you didn’t vote for me,” I say, tightening my grip on the steering wheel.
I know why I’m pissed right now doesn’t have anything to do with him, just like he must know I’m not responsible for his dad’s behavior, but as we’ve always done, we take our pain out on each other, using each other as emotional punching bags.
Maybe because all that anger has to go somewhere.
Maybe because the fighting distracts us from how much we’re hurting.
Whatever the reason, it’s working, and I can feel myself calming down.
I turn my blinker on to get off at the next exit.
“Fuck, I knew this was going to happen,” he says.
“What?”
“You’re gonna kill me because I didn’t vote for you for prom king.”
I finally break into a laugh, and when I glance his way, he’s smirking too. Not in that way that bothers me—when his narrow gaze is searching to see how his dig landed. This smirk has a sharper twist, his eyes wide like he’s enjoying how much he made me laugh. I hate to admit, it’s kind of charming. A side of him I don’t want to strangle.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with us, but it’s clear we both needed that.
I start to explain why I’m getting off at the exit when he says, “You’re going to McDonald’s. You forced yourself to eat a bite at dinner, and now those beefy muscles are hungry and screaming at you to feed them.”
Sometimes he just gets me.
At the drive-thru, I order two Filet-O-Fish, two McChicken with pickles, large fries, and a vanilla shake. Without asking, I order him a ten-piece nugget and fries, something he doesn’t object to because with some things, I get him too. I park, and Atlas hands me a wrapped sandwich, knowing I don’t care which one. As I unwrap it, he dumps the nuggets and fries together into the bag to make his little McDonald’s mix. I take a healthy bite of my sandwich, my tongue excited by the mayo and pickle of the McChicken.
I throw my head back against my seat, cherishing the taste as my body reacts like the first time I ever came.
“Just what I needed,” I say after I swallow.
I notice Atlas watching me as he pops a fry into his mouth.
“What?” I ask as I thumb my chin to see if some sauce dropped onto it.
His expression shifts. “Maybe next time we should ask Ellie what she’s making so we can swing by McDonald’s first.”
We share another laugh, and it’s apparent we’re both just happy we survived another dinner night with our fucked-up family.
4
Atlas
“Atlas, you got a shit ton of new materials to sort through. It’s going to be a busy day,” Fred, the lead technician at the metal yard where I work, tells me. It’s not a dream job, but it pays the bills. My plan is always to get the least amount of money from Glen as possible. Mom left me some, but she was never the breadwinner. That was all Glen. This job helps with my goal. Plus, sometimes I do stumble upon some pretty cool finds. One time I saw an old fridge and sink that had been turned into art, the insides painted like scenery. We’d also gotten an old SWAT car from the police department, which was pretty badass.