Too Late For Regrets My Dear Stepbrother

The stepbrother I grew up with was a golden boy, a star varsity quarterback everyone had high hopes for.

But for a street-level delinquent, he abandoned his Ivy League future.

Desperate to pull his life back on track, I tried to expose his toxic girlfriend.

Yet, he hated me to the bone for it.

For her, he ruthlessly dragged our family into the crossfire of a deadly gang dispute, causing us all to meet a violent, tragic end.

I never expected fate to rewind the clock.

To give me a second chance.

——

"Wake up, Sloane! Are you deaf?"

A hand shoved my shoulder, hard enough to leave a bruise.

I gasped, my eyes snapping open to the blinding neon lights of a Bel-Air mansion party.

Chlorine and cheap tequila burned my nostrils.

My stepbrother, Declan, loomed over me.

He was wearing his ridiculous varsity quarterback jacket despite the suffocating California heat.

His jaw was clenched tight, eyes darting around the patio like a cornered animal.

"I don't have time for you to play dead," he hissed, kicking my lounge chair.

"Take this," Declan demanded, suddenly shoving a thick, manila envelope into my lap.

It was heavy. I knew exactly what was inside.

Cash. A lot of it.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Seventeen. I was seventeen again.

This was the night.

The exact night my life derailed into a living hell.

"Give this to Kenzie," he ordered, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument.

"And if Dad asks where I am, you tell him I’m in my room studying for the SATs."

I stared at the envelope.

My fingers trembled slightly against the rough paper.

In my past life, this was the exact moment I tried to play the savior.

I had begged him not to do it.

I had warned him that Kenzie was a street rat who was dragging him into the gutter.

My reward for caring?

Declan thought I was looking down on his "true love."

He paraded Kenzie around the house just to spite me, calling his descent into trash a "rebellion against the elite."

They got tangled up with local gang members over stolen pills.

When the cartel came knocking, my biological mother, Vivienne, fell to her knees, crying and forcing me to "just help your brother, Sloane."

But fate had violently dragged me back from the grave.

I looked up at Declan's impatient face and reached out and took the envelope.

"No problem," I said smoothly. "Consider it done."

Declan froze.

"Wait. That's it?" he asked, eyeing me like I was a stranger.

"You're not going to give me a lecture?"

He crossed his arms, defensive. "You're not going to echo my dad about my Ivy League future?"

Not anymore.

Why try to save someone who is determined to drown?

I had learned my lesson in blood.

In this sprawling mansion, I was just an outsider. Ruthless selfishness was my new survival guide.

"It’s your life, Declan," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. "I'm not your keeper."

"Are you messing with me?" he narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

"If you don't believe me, you can come watch me hand it to her."

I didn't wait for his answer.

I turned my back on him, slipping away from the booming music and the drunken teenagers.

I walked straight toward the dark, damp alley behind the estate gates.

The stench of cheap weed hit me before I even saw them.

Kenzie was leaning against a rusted dumpster, blowing smoke directly into the faces of three tattooed thugs.

I walked up and tossed the heavy envelope right at her dirt-scuffed boots.

"From Declan," I said coldly.

Kenzie looked down, then picked it up and eagerly tore it open.

When she saw the thick stacks of bills, a greedy, mocking smirk twisted her lips.

"Well, well. The golden boy delivers."

One of the thugs snickered, eyeing the cash. "He actually thinks you're into him, Kenzie."

She laughed. It was a harsh, grating sound that echoed off the brick walls.

"That idiot quarterback actually thinks I love him?"

She flicked her cigarette onto the pavement and crushed it beneath her heel.

"Please. He's just a rich, spoiled brat playing gangster."

The thugs erupted into crude laughter.

"So what's the plan, babe?" a guy with a neck tattoo asked, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Kenzie leaned into him, totally unbothered.

"I'm going to let him play Romeo a little longer," she sneered.

"Once I drain every last cent of his trust fund, I’m dumping his pathetic ass."

"Damn, you're cold!" another guy laughed. "Going to let us have a turn with the rich boy's money?"

"Obviously," Kenzie smirked, waving the envelope. "He's just an ATM with a pulse. Let's go get wasted."

Their vulgar jokes and filthy banter filled the narrow alleyway.

I didn't say a single word.

I didn't need to.

Then I noticed the shadows near the entrance of the alley.

Behind a thick row of decorative hedges, a figure stood completely paralyzed.

I caught the faint glimmer of a varsity jacket.