Besides, it was kind of nice to see something break through his easy confidence.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to fill the silence.
He glanced at me. “They said he was crossing the street when the light was green.”
“Didn’t he notice the ‘do not walk’ sign?”
“Well obviously he couldn’t.” Something about that sounded odd.
“Why is that obvious?”
“Because he’s…” He paused and glanced at me again, as if only just realizing what he’d started to say. “Blind,” he finished quietly.
My eyes went wide. “He’s what now?”
“Blind. Mostly.”
That didn’t make any sense. Sure, I didn’t see his face that morning, but the guy was talking to me like normal, even looking at me. Or maybe it was just in my direction. Oh man, how had I not noticed something like that? Just how drunk was I? “Blind,” I repeated.
“Yeah. He doesn’t usually leave the house, so I don’t worry about him too much.” I would worry about someone never leaving the house, but Brennon kept talking: “What he doing crossing a street on his own?”
I assumed that question was rhetorical. “I’m sure he’s fine,” I said. “They would have told you if he wasn’t.”
“Probably,” he replied, though he didn’t seem convinced.
We found a parking spot close to the entrance of the hospital, and I uncharacteristically thanked my long legs for helping me keep up with his quick strides as we rushed inside. I wasn’t sure he would have slowed down to wait for me if I wasn’t so tall. Brennon was on a mission, and I followed with a million thoughts running through my head, particularly about how worried he was. He may not have been big into the concept of love, but he was proving his own belief wrong as he rushed to the aid of his friend.
“Steven Evans,” Brennon said when we reached the counter, a little breathless and once again shaking. I slipped my arm around his waist to hold him steady, and he responded by sliding his own across my shoulders. “I’m his emergency contact, and they told me he was brought in about an hour ago.”
The nurse at the front desk nodded and turned to his computer, scrolling for a second before he looked back up at us. “He’s still in the ER,” he said. “Straight down the hall to your right.”
“Thank you,” Brennon replied, but the words barely made a sound. Now I was starting to get worried.
We walked almost as quickly as we had outside, and I tried to think of something to say to help Brennon calm down a bit before we reached the emergency room. I hadn’t spent a ton of time in hospitals, but I meant what I said. If something was seriously wrong, they would have told him over the phone. Steve was probably fine, maybe just a little bruised, and—
Brennon suddenly slipped out of my hold and sprinted the last several yards, pushing past a resident who tried to grab him before he got to the curtained beds ahead. He must have recognized his friend from a distance, because he went straight for one of the beds on the left and threw the curtains aside.
“What do you think you were doing?” he practically shouted at the man lying there.
I hurried forward and grabbed his arm, ready to tell him to keep his voice down, but I froze the moment I saw Steve. He looked terrible. Blood caked in his curly brown hair and on the side of his head where a few Steri-Strips held a gash in his yellowy skin together. His left arm rested bound against his chest, a bag of ice sat strapped to his left knee, and if he hadn’t been lying there with his dark eyes open, I might have wondered if he was even breathing because he was so still. But his mouth twisted in an annoyed grimace, his eyebrows pulled low, and his tongue worked the inside of his mouth as he searched for a response to Brennon’s angry question.
“I told them not to call you,” he finally mumbled, clearly not as surprised by the outburst as I was. “We were out of bread.”
Brennon turned almost as red as Steve was pale, and he clenched his hands into fists at his side. “I know,” he growled. “I was going to get some on my way home.”
“I’m perfectly capable of walking to the store.”
“Obviously not.”
“Brennon,” I said, taking his arm. He was making things worse.
Steve turned his head a little, his eyes unfocused. “The sister-in-law?” he asked, more curious than I expected him to be. He recognized my voice just from that one word? “Why are you here?”
Brennon groaned a little and pulled away from my touch so he could run both hands down his face. “She’s here because you interrupted our date.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t you ‘oh’ me, you son of a—”
“Brennon!” I said loudly and grabbed his hand, pulling him several feet away from the bed. “Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”
He immediately shook his head, eyes locked on the man in the bed. “Absolutely not. He nearly got himself killed.” It was going to take a lot to talk him down, but I knew I had to do it before the anxious interns nearby decided we needed to leave altogether. A part of me wondered if that was a better option than sticking around when Brennon was this riled up. He needed to calm down.
I pressed my palm to his cheek, and his eyes jumped to me in surprise. “Hey,” I said gently. “Just be glad he’s okay.”
For a few long seconds, I worried he would stay angry and keep yelling at his roommate until hospital security arrived to escort us out. But then he sighed and wrapped his fingers around mine, pulling my hand from his jaw and to his lips. “Lissa Montgomery,” he whispered, sending heat blazing into my cheeks.
Taking one deep breath, he intertwined our fingers then slowly moved back to the bed. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “How’re you feeling?”
Though Steve didn’t look at anything in particular—How much could he actually see, anyway?—I could almost feel his focus on me. I scooted a little closer to Brennon.
“Drugged,” he grunted and rolled his eyes.
Brennon matched the expression. “This is why I told you to get a dog,” he said.
“I don’t need a dog,” Steve replied.
“What he needs is constant supervision for the next week,” a deep voice threw in behind us.
Brennon and I both turned, stepping aside to let the ER physician check Steve’s vitals. “Supervision?” Brennon asked when the doctor didn’t offer up more explanation.
Clipboard in hand, the physician nodded and studied the notes written on the page. “Your friend is lucky to be alive,” he said. Steve rolled his eyes again. “He has a few bruised ribs, and that knee is going to give him some trouble for the next few days. But I’m worried about that head injury, given his history, and I can’t force him to stay here under observation, as much as I’d like to.”
Was it just me, or was Brennon suddenly paler than Steve? “Worried,” he repeated.
The doctor scribbled something then looked right at us. “There’s no sign of a concussion, but we can’t rule out the possibility considering his condition. He shouldn’t be left alone for more than a couple of hours, not until we’re sure he’s avoided anything more serious than surface injuries.”
“What about an MRI?” Brennon asked. “CT scan?”
This time it was the doctor who rolled his eyes. “He won’t let us, which is why I recommend supervision.”
“I’m fine,” Steve tried, but neither Brennon nor the doctor paid him any attention.
“I can do that,” Brennon assured him, though his fingers tightened a little around mine. “I can keep an eye on him.” Could he do that?
“Here are some prescriptions for the pain,” the doctor continued as he handed Brennon a little slip of paper, “and I’ll grab a nurse to help you get him ready to go. He’s pretty eager.”
Brennon glanced down at the paper then shook the doctor’s hand. “Thanks, Dave,” he said. He was on a first-name basis with the doc?
Steve sat up the moment Dave was gone, pulling the heart monitor sensor from his
finger and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Shall we?” he asked and stood.
“Whoa!” Brennon replied and pushed his friend back onto the bed before he could take a step. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home.”
“Not until I know everything you need.”
“I told you I’m fine.”
“Lissa, help me.”
I blinked as both of them looked right at me. More or less on Steve’s part. Did Brennon really think I could say anything that would change Steve’s mind about getting out of the hospital as soon as possible? I barely knew either of these men, and I wasn’t exactly comfortable with the request. But I had to say something, so I said the first thing that came to mind: “He does have a little more color than before, Brennon. Maybe he really is okay.”
A smile almost cracked the scowl on Steve’s face, and his uninjured eyebrow lifted just a touch as his eyes focused harder on the space just in front of me. “See?” he said quietly. “Like I said.”
Brennon was about to argue when a nurse came between the pair of them with a determined smile that said she’d heard every word of the argument. “Okie doke,” she said and began unstrapping the ice from Steve’s knee. “Best to keep weight off that leg as much as possible until the swelling goes down, and don’t take any ibuprofen for at least two days or you’ll make your ribs worse.” She handed a piece of paper to Brennon that looked like it contained the same instructions she was saying out loud. “Ice packs are good—here’s one in case you don’t have one—and make sure you breathe and cough normally unless you want to cause pneumonia. Try to take a few deep breaths every—”
“I got it,” Steve grunted, practically leaping from the bed as soon as his leg was free. “I’ve been through this before.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. How many times had the guy been hit by cars?
“Anything else?” Brennon asked the nurse as Steve started limping away.
She shook her head, more amused than worried as she watched him hobble for the door. “Try to survive him. I wasn’t here the last couple of times, but I’ve heard the stories. He really does live up to the legend.”
Stuffing the instructions and the prescription into his pocket, Brennon took a long, deep breath and shut his eyes as he let it out slowly. I had so many questions, but I figured now was not the best time to ask him. He was stressed enough as it was. “Sometimes…” he muttered to himself without finishing the thought, and then together we followed Steve out to the parking lot.
Chapter Six
By the time we got back to Brennon’s apartment after stopping at the pharmacy, Steve had taken to muttering expletives under his breath and complaining that Brennon was driving too slowly. He led the way up the stairs, using his hand on the wall as a guide, and was in the apartment before we had even hit the landing of the second floor. He was kind enough to leave the door open for us, at least, but I could feel the tension between the two men even without fully understanding it.
Brennon paused out in the hall and pulled me in for a tight hug when I stopped beside him. “Thank you,” he whispered into my ear, sending a shiver through me. “I don’t know what I would have done without you there.”
I’d do it again if it meant I got to stand here in his arms like this. I hadn’t thought anything remarkable about Brennon last night at the wedding outside of his surface-level charms, but I was quickly realizing there was a lot more to this man than I could learn in a couple of days. And oddly enough, I found myself wanting to learn as much as I could. “I was happy to help,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling myself in tighter. I couldn’t keep myself from smiling when his heartbeat kicked up a notch. “And maybe I can keep helping.”
He pulled away enough to look at me, confusion and hope in his stunning blue eyes. “What do you mean? Are you going to stay in California? What about your flight?”
Laughing, I shook my head. “My flight left an hour ago. And before you start apologizing, since I have a feeling it’s on the tip of your tongue, I cancelled it on our way to the hospital. Seth paid for it, anyway, and he can afford me missing it.” In fact, I was pretty sure my brother would be thrilled that I was taking some time off like this, even if he didn’t get to spend it with me. He was always saying I worked too hard.
Brennon looked a little too excited as he stared at me. “You’re staying?” he repeated, as if he couldn’t imagine anything better.
“I’m staying,” I replied. “And I’ll stay with Steve.”
He didn’t understand at first, his eyebrows pulling together as he glanced through the open door into his apartment. But then it clicked, and his eyes went wide. “You don’t have to do that,” he said hesitantly. Hoping I would argue.
“I know I don’t have to,” I replied with a smile, “but I want to. You obviously have work to do and can’t be here twenty-four seven, and I’ve got nothing on my plate and a whole lot of spare time to fill. It only makes sense.”
“That would be incredible. At least for now. I have to go back to the office for a couple of hours, but…” He waited half a second, during which his eyes flicked down to my mouth and made me grin, and then he bent down and pressed his lips to mine, giving me a stomach-clenching kiss that made heat spread from my lips to my toes. Wow. Fingers in my hair, he touched his forehead to mine and took a shaky breath. “Where did you come from?” he whispered, as if I were sent by some higher power.
So much for keeping my distance. “Boston,” I replied and snatched the bag of medicines from his hand, backing into the apartment and leaving him grinning back at me. “I thought I told you that.”
As soon as I shut the door, I felt a pair of eyes on me and turned to see Steve standing near the fridge with an ice pack pressed against his rib cage. Though I doubted he could see me, it was a little unnerving how easily he found me against the backdrop of an exposed brick wall almost the same color as my sweater. “Boston?” he asked.
Oh goodness, how much had he heard from the hallway? Hopefully just that. “Yeah,” I said. “You ever been?” That was probably a terrible question to ask a man who apparently rarely ventured outside his own front door, and I winced.
But Steve shrugged and muttered, “Couple times,” as he limped over to the couch and dropped onto it with a grunt. “Autumn is…” He swallowed, frowning a little. “Was my favorite time to go.”
Now what was I supposed to say to that? “Did you go there for work, or…?”
“For fun,” he said, adjusting his ice pack. Then he was silent.
If this was how the next little while was going to go, I was going to have to rethink my offer to stay. I didn’t crave attention from friends and family like Catherine sometimes did, but I wasn’t exactly a hermit. At least, I hadn’t been before I put in twelve hours a day at Mikaelson and Hewitt. I much preferred having someone to talk to, or at least something to do. And while my usual go-to when I needed to busy myself was cleaning, a quick glance around the spacious apartment told me Brennon was assuredly cleaner than I was.
Check mark in the ‘pro’ column.
Setting the bag of prescriptions on the granite island in the kitchen portion of the large room, I folded my arms and steeled myself for forcing Steve into at least having a little conversation. It would probably be good for him if he really did spend most of his time alone in the apartment like I suspected. “Do you need some lunch?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light. “I can—”
“I’m not broken,” he snapped back. “I’ve been taking care of myself my whole life, and I don’t need Brennon’s latest toy treating me like a toddler.” And then he grabbed a pair of earbuds and stuffed them into his ears, closing his eyes and shutting off the rest of the world.
I glared at him. “Jerk,” I muttered.
Now what was I supposed to do?
Catherine’s apartment across the hall was huge, but it felt more like a hotel suite with the way each room had its own closed off
space. It was cozy and comfortable, and it fit her personality well. Brennon’s was similar in size but felt so much bigger with the way the main room flowed seamlessly into the kitchen and entryway, one giant rectangle with a wall full of windows. The kitchen alone, a decent size with plenty of counter space and top-of-the-line appliances, put my Boston place to shame, though I’d already packed up most of my stuff into boxes in preparation of leaving it behind for good. Brennon knew how to decorate, too, keeping things chic and simple while still maintaining a sense of masculinity about the place. He had several dozen books that varied in subjects and topics, a wall full of movies to view on his enormous TV, and I spied a jacuzzi on the little balcony outside. I walked the length of the room in giddy awe until I reached the hallway that led to the bedrooms.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I poked my head through the open door on the left, just beyond the bathroom, excited to realize Brennon kept his room just as neat and orderly as the rest of the apartment. Simple navy sheets and comforter stretched across his king size bed, and more books filled a shelf by the window, many of them books I’d been wanting to read but had never gotten my hands on a copy. Only modern art hung on the walls, giving the space a calm, organized feeling that seemed to fit Brennon well. And the room smelled like him. I couldn’t help but open up his closet and take in his fashionable wardrobe, every piece with a lingering scent of timber wolves—kill me—and pine.
I paused at a picture in a silver frame on the table beside his bed, and my chest seized up a little. A slightly younger Brennon smiled wide in the photo and looked enormously happy in his tux. The girl who latched onto his arm, with flattering black gown and perfect, tight golden curls, looked even more so as she laughed from the frame. As I stood there trying to discern any features that could make her a sister or a cousin or anything that wasn’t a girlfriend or worse, Steve’s last words rang in my ears.
In Front of Me Page 5