Meet The Stepbrothers: A STEPBROTHER MENAGE ROMANCE by Eden England Page B

here?”
    “This is my house! This is where I live now!”
    “What? W—Where did you go?”
    “Oh Gosh, where did I go? I’ve been everywhere.”
    “Why didn’t you call?” James said.
    “I wanted to call—but I didn’t have you or the other kids’ numbers. I tried to call your father, but he never picked up. The one time he did, he hung up.”
    James wrapped his arms around his mother. He hugged her tight.
    “How have you been?” Patricia asked. “Oh Gosh, you’re so tall!”
    “I can’t believe you’re here. What are you doing here?” James said.
    “I live here with my husband. This is my house,” she replied.
    “Husband?” he said. “You remarried?”
    My heart sank into my gut as I stood awkwardly and silently on the side lines.
    “Yes, yes. He’s inside. You need to meet him,” she told him. “And who is that over there? Is she with you? That’s not your sister Julia, is it?”
    “No, ma. That’s not Julia. That’s my girlfriend, Brenna.”
    “A girlfriend!” she screamed as she waddled over to me.
    “H—Hello,” I said.
    “Hello, darling,” she said to me. “She’s beautiful, Jamie.”
    I smiled.
    “Thank you,” I said.
    “Come on in! Come on in!” she said, turning around and waddling towards the house. “Oh Jamie, I can’t believe you came home! How did you find me?”
    “I—I didn’t, ma.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I’m here to meet Brenna’s family,” James said.
    “Brenna’s family? Your family lives around here too?” she asked me.
    “Um,” I said. I moved my mouth to speak, but no words came out.
    James looked back at me. His eyes were glued wide. Mine were glued wide.
    “Frank arrived late last night,” Patricia said.
    “Frank’s here?” James asked.
    “Yes. He tracked me down, just like you,” Patricia said.
    “I didn’t track you down, ma,” James said.
    “Charlie was supposed to be here but didn’t show up. Nearly gave me a heart attack for Pete sakes. Didn’t call or anything. I finally got a hold of him. He should be here tonight now.”
    We walked into the house. It was warm. There was a giant staircase immediately in front of the doorway, which led up into a big, open living room area.
    “Take off your shoes. I just cleaned the floors,” Patricia said.
    I bent over and began to untie my shoes.
    “What did you say your name was again, my dear?” Patricia asked me.
    “Brenna,” I replied.
    “Brenna. As in, short for Brenda?” she asked.
    “No, just Brenna,” I said.
    “What an odd name,” she said. “You’re so skinny,” she said.
    I opened my mouth to speak.
    “Ma—” James said.
    “What? Someone needs to tell her,” Patricia said.
    “You can’t just say things like that,” James said.
    “James, be a gentleman. Come and take Brenna’s coat,” Pat said, changing the subject.
    “Hold on, ma. I’m still taking off my shoes,” James said.
    “Walter!” Patricia began to yell. “My other son is here! And he brought a girlfriend!”
    James looked over at me. Still, neither of us could muster up any words for one another.
    “That Charlie?” a familiar voice called out.
    “No, not Charlie—James!” Pat yelled back.
    “James? I thought James wasn’t coming.”
    “The other boys must have tracked him down!” Patricia was still oblivious. She hadn’t caught on yet.  “And he’s got a girlfriend with him!”
    “He’s got a what?” Walter yelled back, still out of sight.
    “A girlfriend, Walt. He brought home a lady!” She yelled.
    “A lady?” Walter yelled back.
    “A real lady. Come and see my son!” she yelled.
    Walter—my father—a small, fat old man emerged from around the upstairs corner and leaned over the railing. He was only five years older than when I last saw him, but he looked fifteen years older. He had heavy bags under his sunken eyes, and his spine was permanently concave from slouching on a couch all day long.
    “Hello there!” he said to James.
    “Hey, Walter,” James