Fight: A Stepbrother Romance Novella by Stephanie Brother

he was a man who didn't do love or commitment.
    I was fine with that. After all, I was only twenty-one, and I was hardly ready to get married and pop out twelve kids and settle down for the rest of my life. I giggled at the thought of Paxton living in suburbia, surrounded by a dozen kids and changing diapers on a set of triplets. Yeah, that wasn't the kind of future he had ahead of him, and it wouldn't be the kind I wanted either. I wanted to travel and finish my education, and figure out what kind of career I wanted. I didn't want to get married or settle into one relationship.
    I ruthlessly squashed the voice trying to whisper in the back of my mind that I could be totally content if Paxton was the only man in my life. I wouldn't care about exploring relationships with other men or having other lovers if I had him. That voice had to die, and I killed it as efficiently as I could with the reminder that I was nothing more than a fuck buddy for my stepbrother.
     

Chapter Eleven
    Paxton
    I fell into a strange sort of routine, both with Mia and my mother. I swam with Mia in the mornings, spent most of the afternoon and part of early evening with my mom unless Dirk intruded, and then spent my evenings with Mia again. It wasn't all sex, though there was plenty of that. Surprisingly, we talked a lot and just hung out. We had similar taste in movies and food and even similar political views. She was fast becoming a friend in addition to being a lover.
    It was strange, because I wasn’t a guy who made friends with women. There was usually sex or nothing. Lila had been the sole exception before now, and my friendship with her was different from the one I had with Mia. Even if we didn't factor in sex, I think I was already closer to Mia that I had ever been to Lila, who knew me better than anyone in the world, or so I’d thought.
    Each time I had that realization, it drew me up short. As close as Mia and I were, there were things she still didn't know about me, and they were things I would never voluntarily tell her. They were the kind of secrets that stayed buried, and Lila only knew them because she had seen me falling apart, dealing with them at my worst, and helped me through. I wouldn't have willingly shared them with her if I’d had a choice. But when you're falling to pieces, you're happy to hold on to anyone who keeps you together.
    Was that all Mia was for me right now? Was she simply a crutch to help me get through my mother's last days and her death? Was I using this sweet woman to assuage my pain?
    Guilt seared through me as I admitted that was partially true. I was using Mia for physical and emotional support and release. But I knew she was using me in a similar capacity. Plus, there was a whole other layer to our interactions that I was afraid to examine too closely, in case I realized there was more to it than mutual fucking and support. I didn't want to know if there were real emotions involved, because I didn't need that kind of baggage. I had enough to deal with, and once my mother died, I would leave this place and never looked back.
    Each time I told myself that, it was supposed to be an encouragement, to bolster my ability to stay and get through what had to be done. It wasn't supposed to send a dart of pain through my chest that felt like it ripped out my heart whenever I imagined walking away from Mia Gaithway.
    After ten days, it became clear my mother's time was running out. I hated it, but I couldn't stop it. No one could, and having seen her suffer so much, I was still going to be happy for her when this was all over. I wasn’t going to be happy that I was losing my mom forever, but at least her pain would be over.
    That night, I sat at her bedside holding her hand. Dirk was on her other side, though he didn't hold her hand. Instead, he kept his head buried in his tablet and looked up at her occasionally. When she drew a shallow or raspy breath, he would pause work long enough to check on her before