Surge : A Stepbrother Romance Read Free Page B

to do is to deal
with her shit this early in the morning.
     
     
    I
walk out to the cabana by the pool to get ready for the day, avoiding my
sulking girlfriend. On my way past the pool, I text Jaime and ask him to have a
breakfast ready for me. Fuck! I can’t even eat breakfast in my own house!
     
     
    Then
I remember a quote from the Howard Stern show: “No matter how hot some chicks
are, someone, somewhere, is sick of fucking them.” Quite honestly, I was at
that place with her now. We hadn’t even had sex in over a month. Geez, what am
I with her for?
     
     
    I
shower up in the cabana, take out some board shorts and a shirt, and wait for
the call from the car. Delia storms into the cabana to find me watching TV. She
instantly starts yelling.
     
     
    “Why
the fuck are you in here? Avoiding me?”
     
    I look away. “Delia,
I am not avoiding you, I am waiting for my ride.”
     
    The phone rings,
and not a moment too soon. Delia shoots me a look that could kill.
     
    “Don’t
you dare pick that up!” she screeches.
     
    “Delia,
this is business. I have to take it. We will talk later tonight.” I rush past
her while she tries to stop me. “Talk later.”
     
    Delia
folds her arms. “I may not be here later.”
     
    “That
is your choice. I have to go.” I reply coldly.
     
    Her
voice doesn’t waver. “Don’t you leave, Mick. If you walk out that door, I won’t
be here when you get back!”
     
    There
is a part of me that hopes she will leave. Dealing with her has become too much
of a chore. She wants the heaven and the stars, but feels she has to give very
little to get it. It is a relationship that is no longer enjoyable to me. I
never feel free. It is time for her to go.

 
     
    Chapter
4 Mick - Surfing Circus
     
    As
I sit in the SUV and drive to our first appointment all I can think about is
hitting the water.  I wish I could get out in the surf.  Unfortunately, my
surfing job often doesn’t allow that.  Funny how that is. I decide that I need
to hear a rational voice. I call my father. Despite our contrasting lifestyles,
he is always a voice of reason. He was also the man who taught me how to surf.
I have a great deal of respect for him.
     
     
    “Hello?”
     
    “Hey,
Dad, it’s me.”
     
    “Hey,
son, how are you doing?”
     
    “I’m
okay, Dad. You know, busy and all. It’s damn hectic.”
     
    “Yeah?
Being busy is a good thing, but are you happy? Remember, we always, always have
a choice in life.”
     
    I
snap. “Dad, don’t give me that. Without money, we are nothing.”
     
    There
is a long pause. Dad never liked speaking about money. He also never liked
conflict.
     
    “I
will maintain my views as my own,” he says.
     
    “So
let’s just drop it, then.”
     
     
    My
father is a bit of a hippie, always has been. He chose a motorhome over a
corporate boardroom and now lives in it by the beach. He often reminds me how
he lives on just pennies a day and loves his life. I admire that he’s happy
with his life—so many people live rich and unhappy, or poor and unhappy, but
not Dad. Somehow, he’s poor and happy, which is pretty damn rare. But I also
hate him for his lifestyle. That’s really the reason he and my mother divorced.
A part of me will never forgive him for that.
     
    I
pause for a moment. “Listen, Dad, I need to clear my head for a second. I just
need to ask you one question. I’ve never asked you this, and I know you’ll
wonder why I’m even asking this right now, but I need an answer. When did you
know that you and Mom needed to get a divorce?”
     
    There
is a long painful silence. “I… we weren’t happy together. I realized, after a
while, that she wanted to be with a guy who made a lot of money. She didn’t just
want a companion. And that killed me. Truly. Oh, how I loved, and still love,
your mother. But our ideas of happiness were very different. I guess I couldn’t
give her that. I wouldn’t have wanted to, Mick. She didn’t want my