Eric by Jody Kaye (uplifting novels .TXT) 📕

“I think you are the worst of all the Kingsbriers.” Drew Newhouse runs his palm across the back of my pixie short hair, leaning over my back to whisper dirty words in my ear.

I’m face down on the blankets layering the grass. Condom wrappers litter the ground. I might be the worst of my siblings, but considering what’s happening at the house right about now, I’m also the smartest for getting the hell out of there. And for the number of times we’ve fucked, the most relaxed.

Now, if my Daddy were smart, he’d soundproof the house. The tile in the master bath creates an echo. Through the wall I can hear my parents talking even when I don’t try. Momma hadn’t needed to raise her voice yesterday for me to know how much trouble found its way to our doorstep. The upside is it doesn’t affect me in the least. If anything, it makes my teenage life of hormone-induced crime easier.

“You say the sweetest things,” I retort, bending my leg up to kick my heel into Drew’s bare ass. He’s got a great one. “Now get off of me. It’s way past sunrise. If my momma hasn’t already figured out I’m not home, she will soon enough.”

Drew pushes his body against mine, kissing my shoulder. I’m tiny in comparison to him. Heck, even my little sister, Daveigh has a good three inches on me. But I’m filled out in all the right places and Drew marvels at my athletic build when he’s undressing me.

Drew rolls over, disposes of the last rubber, and starts fumbling for his blue jeans. “I couldn’t let that happen or else I’d have to make an honest woman out of you.”

I twist on the blanket so my back meets the fabric and tempt him by touching my breasts. Yes, I am the same girl who just said we needed to leave. Everything about me is a paradox. I like the power rush of throwing Drew off his game. What good is it to screw your older brother’s best friend if you can’t hold shit over his head?

Drew and I have been sleeping together for close to two years now. I love every naked minute of his football player body against mine and the strategy these clandestine meetings take to get out of the house and back in without being caught.

In some respects, I also enjoyed hanging Adam’s man-whore reputation over Drew. Sometimes I prick at Drew, insinuating he’s guilty by association. I’m also certain if Adam ever found out Drew was shacking up with me—and no one else—then it would be Drew’s downfall in Adam’s eyes. Other times, when Drew’s gotten too sentimental for my liking, I remind him perhaps I have a few more oats to sew. To Drew’s chagrin, I get plenty of offers for dates. If he presses me too hard for a commitment, I’ll take Adam’s persona up myself. Boys are dumb. You can lead them around by the rings in their noses, especially the ones who drone on about how impressive Kingsbrier is.

“After Adam pummels you, I still have two more brothers who’ll want a shot at it. And I suppose after Ross puts a gun to your head for deflowering me, you still won’t realize you can’t handle me.”

“How can you be so sure? Handling your ass is one of my favorite things, B. And that smart mouth drives me nuts.”

Drew also confessed while we were drunk one night he likes how cunning I am and when I dare him to cross lines he wouldn’t have considered. Like sneaking right back out right after you’ve made curfew.

The admission was way more uncomfortable than the “L” word because; feelings.

The thing is, I’ve been with anyone else and the closer we get to graduation I’m realizing I don’t necessarily want to be. This is a huge problem. I’m adamant falling in love will hold me back. The last thing I want is to be a housewife like Drew’s mother or burping a gaggle of babies like my own. Nope, a conceal and carry permit with a cute little Lugar in a Coach bag won’t do for me. I want a badge and a sidearm.

“Stop arguing me to death and take what I’ll give you.” I taunt, pinching my nipples.

“Weren’t you the one bitching about being late? Put your clothes on.” Drew tosses a tank top at me, pissed the night is ending the same way it always does. “Christ, Brier, just once I’d like to take you out on an actual date and drop you off at Kingsbrier like normal people do instead of having a booty-call.”

His stomach growls. Poor boy, I’ve left him hungry again.

“Need something to eat?” Drew refuses to look at me, having a damn good idea I don’t mean anything he can get in a diner. He’s no fun right now. “I hate it when you get like this. I’ll be back. I need to use the loo before I find my clothes.”

I walk off to pee behind a tree. Then I put on tight gym shorts and layer a sports bra under the tank top he’d thrown at me. Nike’s finish the ensemble. Drew’s dressed too and sitting on the cracked leather driver’s seat behind the wheel of his car. He starts the engine as I slide into the seat beside him.

“Took you long enough. It’s a damn good thing I’m a patient man.”

I huff at his cheek. Drew will be forever waiting at this rate.

“You can drop me down the road. I need to work up enough of a sweat to make them think I really was running. Least it’s hot already. Phew!” I mock wipe perspiration from my brow.

Drew pulls off of the dirt road that intersects Kingsbrier pasture land onto the main county road. He knows the drill. A mile from here he’ll pull over, let me out, and swing back around towards his house to sleep off the rest of the day.

A familiar green truck approaches from the opposite direction towards Kingsbrier’s stable. I freeze with no time to react as my daddy passes by us, with a friendly wave.

“He’s seen us together. You gotta come in now.” I direct.

“If you were so worried, you could have ducked.” Drew’s acting like a jerk, but a look crosses his brow as if this may be the moment he’s been waiting for to force my hand.

Oh, no, it’s not. My life isn’t the center of attention today. Nothing we’ve done will come close to the trouble Eric is in.

“I’m not worried. No one is gonna question why you are even around. It’s our lucky day. There’s a showdown about to happen. Follow my lead.”

“And do what?”

“Lie, of course.”

I limp into the terracotta kitchen as Drew moseys behind me like the good little cowboy he is. Ginny has her back to us. She pours a scrambled egg mixture into a skillet and uses tongs to move around a few strips of bacon frying in the pan next to it. Momma looks up from flipping pancakes on the island griddle.

I try to stop my expression from flattening. Everyone is acting too normal for my liking. “Hi Momma, I rolled my ankle running this morning. Drew picked me up and brought me home.”

“What were you doing out so early?” Rose directs the question at the young man, disbelieving. There are a few times I’m certain the outlandish stories about my mother in her youth are correct. Now is one of them. Nobody plants trees under windows as a deterrent without cause.

“I, uh, was hungry—Going to ask Adam if he wanted to go to the Grille. This smells good.” Drew hates lying to my momma, but he’s a sucker for her pancakes.

“There’s always plenty to go around. Give us another minute, Drew, and we can fix you a plate.” Rose smiles, returning to what she’d been doing.

My favorite fuck buddy and I exchange glances. I shrug my shoulders. My mother’s demeanor is as sweet as Lily Anne Newhouse’s peach pie. No one is upset. Hell, Ginny is acting normal, pitching in on preparing a meal. Something isn’t right.

The Sub-Zero next to us slams and Ginny jumps out of her skin. Now we’re getting somewhere. With a scowl on his face, Eric pops the top on a Red Bull, chugging half of it down. He keeps up the silent treatment, acting as if Ginny isn’t nearby, and makes his way to the French doors leading to the morning porch.

“Ginny’s parents will be here after breakfast. Don’t go running off,” Momma commands in a polite tone the five of us know better than to disregard. 

The glass door swings hard, closing after my brother, rattling the heavy-duty panes, and causing the antique grandmother clock on the wall to chime faintly. Outside, Eric throws himself in a wrought iron porch chair facing the pond. The scraping sound of metal against composite wood is like nails down a chalkboard.

Ginny backs away from the stove as my mother dishes from skillet and the pans Eric’s girlfriend had been tending. She sets them before me and Drew. I slide half my portion onto his plate.

Back in the walking space between the counters, Ginny starts to cry. The silent red marks stream down her face now, screaming for attention, and visible for everyone to see. Momma takes Ginny in her arms as her body convulses, giving Ginny the chance to let out the emotions she’s been harboring alone.

Ginny looks up and even though my mother has had on her best poker face, disappointment etches heavy lines around Momma’s eyes.

All of a sudden, the waft of bacon and sweet smell of syrup hit Ginny. Her expression turns green, and I don’t mean with envy. Her gut is churning and I wonder how she’s been