Vain: A Stepbrother Romance

by Hunter, Chelsea

  Looking down, I see my leg is wrapped in an enormous bandage. I touch it and feel it is more of a cast. I try to raise my leg, but I can’t—the pain shooting through it is intense. I guess the good news is that I still have a leg.

  I have all of my faculties, albeit I’m a little groggy. More good news: I’m alive. I can’t get the image of that shark bearing down on me out of my head. It is still surreal and seems like it never happened. My leg, however, is a testament to the fact that it did.

  There is a great deal of silence, with the exception of dinging machines. I have no idea if it’s day or night, nor do I have any recollection of how long I have been here. A nurse arrives at my bedside.

  “Mick, do you know where you are?”

  “Well, it looks like a hospital. So I assume that’s where I am.”

  “What do you remember?”

  “I remember the shark attack. I remember swimming for my life. I remember it tearing into my leg and the searing pain of its jaws. Then I remember Sam, sitting by my side. Holding my hand and crying. But how is that possible? Is my leg okay? Will I ever walk again? Where is Sam? Where is my father?”

  “Mick, there is a lot to go through. I need you to have a little patience.”

  “No, I need to know. Please, give me the news!”

  “It’s too early to tell, but after hours of surgery, we were able to attach most of the nerve endings. You have definitely lost muscle, but the body is an incredible machine—it has the ultimate capacity for healing. However, how hard you are willing to work will ultimately determine your recovery. Your father is here. Would you like me to let him in?”

  “Yes! Of course!”

  Moments later, my father walks around the divider. I cannot help by cry at the sight of him. Man, is he ever a sight for sore eyes. He laughs and I laugh, both of us with tears in our eyes, happy that I’m alive. He has never been a man of many words, but the ones he says now are most certainly precious.

  “Glad to have you here, son.”

  That said it all. In his amazing way, he captured “I love you,” “Thank God you’re not dead,” and “I couldn’t imagine my world without you” in those six simple words.

  “Someone else is here to see you.”

  “If Delia has weaseled her way out of prison, I am not interested.”

  “It’s a girl, but it is not Delia.”

  To my shock and joy, it’s Sam. She smiles with a tear in her eye as she comes into view. I don’t reach for her, but I don’t have to. She has already wrapped herself around me.

  “She has been here every day since they brought you in,” my father says.

  I blink at him. “What do you mean, every day?”

  My father frowns. He looks somber again. “You don’t know how long you have been here, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Mick,” he says gently, “you have been here for almost two weeks.”

  Good Lord! I have lost two weeks of my life, but thankfully, I didn’t lose my life altogether. This sure brings a lot of things into perspective. I’m scared, and I’m sure it’s written all over my face. Immediately, I decide on two things. The first is that I will not be getting back into the water again, and the second is that my love for Sam is true.

  “Mick, I am going to let you two alone for a while to catch up, but I will still be here.”

  Dad always just seems to know what the moment requires.

  “One more thing, Mick,” he says to me before he leaves. “Do yourself a favor and don’t let this one get away.”

  I smile at my father. He has commented on a lot of things. Never before, though, has he meddled in my love life. He must see in Sam the same thing that I see in her. Sam pulls up a chair right by my bedside and grabs onto my hand. She looks deep into my eyes, we exchange small talk for a little while until her expression changes.

  “Mick, don’t take this the wrong way, but… I think I’m…”

  “You think you’re what?”

  “I think I am…”

  Sam seems unable to control herself and she stands up to run away. I sit there alone, calling her name, but with no response. I don’t know if she’s telling me goodbye, or if she’s confessing her love for me. Either way, I am exhausted. As I lay my head back, I can see Sam walking back. I try to stay awake, but the meds and the excitement of the day have gotten the better of me.

  “Mick, are you awake? I wanted you to know that I…”

  Chapter 18 - Of Love - Sam

  I come back to Mick’s bedside. He looks as tired as any one person could be. I sit down again and grab his hand. I am so scared of losing him. He has to know.

  “Mick, are you awake? I wanted you to know that I love you.”

  Mick isn’t awake, and maybe it’s for the best. This is a good test for me to see if I can say the words. I said them and I meant them. When he wakes again, I will tell him. I leave the room to let him sleep and go back into the waiting room with Tobin. The nurse comes by to speak to us.

  “Mick is almost ready to go home. His vitals are all normal and his wounds are healing properly. It will now be a waiting game. We cannot know how much damage has been done until all of the muscles and nerves properly heal. It could take months, it could take years—it may never happen. One thing he is going to need is a good support system. He will need ‘round the clock care for the next few weeks. We can give you the name of a home service and you can make arrangements.”

  “I used to be a homecare worker. Could I do that job?” I chime in before thinking about it.

  “Do you know how to change bandages?”

  “Yes.”

  “From a medical perspective, that is the most important thing. We need to stave off any infection. Keep in mind this is not an easy process and it can be very emotional. If you feel you are able and up to the task, then go ahead.”

  “I can do it. I want to do it.”

  “Very well. He will be released to your care tomorrow. I recommend sending him home in an ambulance and renting a hospital bed for the duration of his needs.”

  “He will come to my house. I understand his house requires some work right now.”

  Tobin looks over at me, smiling softly. I think he’s both glad it’s something I want to do for Mick, as well as grateful that he won’t have to be the one to step up. We both know Mick will need support now more than ever. A pang of reservation washes over me as I realize what I am committing too. I still won’t be able to work, and Mick will be in my house. It’s a lot to ask, for sure, but if not for love, then what would anyone do it for?

  Tobin and I walk back into where Mick is situated, to talk to him about the next steps. Mick, Tobin, and I speak at length about life, love, and the great beyond. My procrastination about telling him he would be coming home with me has gone on for as long as it can. The conversation needs to happen.

  “Mick,” I say, “you are going to be released from the hospital tomorrow.”

  “What? Am I able to go home now?”

  “They say your recovery will go much better out of the hospital. You are going to have to retrain your muscles if you ever want to get back into the water.”

  “Well, I can’t very well go home. My place is destroyed. Never mind the fact that everything is up a set of stairs or down a few.”

  “I know that, son,” Tobin replies.

  Mick eyes him. “And I can’t very well live with you in your trailer.”

  “I know that, son.”

  The feeling comes over me that Mick is going to realize I am his only option. Granted, he’s rich and could probably afford to rent someplace, but to figure all of that out now would be a nightmare. Should I bring it up to him? Or should I wait for him to bring it up to me? As usual, my mouth opens first.

  “Mick, why don’t you stay with me?”

  He swings his head around to look in my direction. “Sam, that’s nice, but I’m not sure I can ask you to do that.”

  “I tell you what, why don’t you at lea
st come stay with me only until you find another place?”

  Mick thinks for a while. “Okay, I will come and live with you, but I want to contribute to the rent and the bills.”

  I smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  “Should we get a nurse?”

  “I was a homecare worker. If you feel you can trust me, I am happy to do it.”

  Mick smiles at the prospect of me waiting hand and foot on him. I’m not entirely sure what I’ve gotten myself into, but I did put it out there. Like it or not, it’s going to happen.

  “I’m okay with that,” he says.

  “Great, so it’s settled. I will go home and make all the arrangements and see you at my casa tomorrow.”

  I turn to leave so I can clean up the house and prepare his room. I also need to order a hospital bed. Before I reach the door, I hear Mick calling to me.

  “Sam?”

  “What is it, Mick?”

  “Do you mind staying with me a while? I could really use the company.”

  My heart melts at the prospect of Mick admitting he wants me by his side. Tobin looks at the both of us, getting the hint.

  “Well, I have to hit the road. Mick, call me if you need anything.”

  “Will do, Dad. Thanks for being there for me.”

  “Anytime, son. Anytime.”

  We watch as Tobin leaves, pulling the drapes closed as he goes. I smile at Mick in an evil fashion and he looks at me, knowing and wanting the same thing. I hop up onto Mick’s bed and nestle in beside him. It’s nice to feel his body next to mine. I have to be very careful not to injure him in any way. He doesn’t look like he’s in pain—in fact, he looks happy I’m here.

  We begin to kiss, and his lips are as succulent as I remember. I run my hand up and down his muscular stomach. His body is still as magnificent as I remember. Mick returns the favor, grabbing at my breasts with his strong hands. Lowering my hand, I reach for his manhood. To my surprise, it’s hard. He’s always hard, or so it seems. As I begin to stroke him, he moans at the pleasure. I unbutton my blouse to give him a better view of my breasts. He strains in obvious discomfort as he tries to get closer. I gently place my hand on his chest and push him back down.

  “Just enjoy, Mick. You don’t have to do anything but enjoy.”

  I continue stroking his cock. As I move the sheets back, I stop to stare at the size of his dick. Mick smiles as he usually does, understanding how he is blessed. I begin to suck his hard member and Mick moves his hips to the rhythm of my sucking, stroking my hair. I can hear his heart monitor increasing in speed. The gentle beeping has become more frantic. Then it occurs to me that this may bring the nurses by. There’s no time to waste. I increase my speed to hurry him up and not get caught.

  Already, I can hear footsteps. I sit up and begin again, kissing Mick while stroking his cock and saying dirty things in his ear. I can feel he was close, and so is the nurse. All at once, his body tenses up and he shoots his load high in the air, most of it landing on my shirt the remainder on my hand. I clean up my hand as quickly as I can just as the nurse draws back the curtains. The nurse looks at us, and the look on her face tells me that she at least partially understands what she just walked in on.

  “Oh. Um, please get off of the gurney. It is not designed for two people.”

  “My apologies.”

  Mick smiles at me as I get off of his bed and I smile back. The nurse leaves without another word, shrinking into the shadows of the halls.

  “Mick, I know now may not be the best time, but I have to tell you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m late.”

  Mick raises a brow. “Late for what?”

  “Late, Mick. Late!”

  It takes him a moment, but finally, my stepbrother catches on. “…Oh!”

  Chapter 19 Recovery - Mick

  The next few months are very hard. Slowly, but surely, I fight my way back to health. With the support of my physiotherapist, and of course, Sam, I am able to make it. I walk with a limp and lost a lot of mobility in my leg, but I just keep reminding myself that I was alive. One thing’s for sure, though: I will never again step into the ocean.

  The relationship that Sam and I share has grown a great deal, and though we never really talk about the fact that Sam is pregnant, I’m ready to be a dad. Sam starts to teach at the surf school again, and I have a lot of unanswered emails and questions from fans and sponsors that need to be addressed. I’m procrastinating and not wanting to have those conversations. It’s too painful to think that the thing I loved most is over. I have not even been back to my house since the incident in the water. I wonder how bad it is.

  Sam walks into the kitchen where I am sitting. “Mick, can we talk?” I know what this is going to be about. I’m not ready for it, but if my life is going to move forward, it needs come out.

  “Sure, Sam. What’s up?”

  “What are you going to do?” As she asks the question, I realize there is no way I can deal with this.

  “What can I do, Sam? I am half of a man now. I have no plans, nothing to fall back on—all I have ever done is surf.”

  “I’m not saying you have to get back into the water again. I know you don’t want to.”

  “It is not that I don’t want to. I can’t!”

  “Okay, Mick. I’m not looking to make you upset. At some point, you are going to have to face the world and make a decision about your future. I don’t care what you do. I just want you to be prepared. Make the decision yourself before someone makes it for you.” Her words enrage me. To think that someone else would decide my future!

  “I want to go home, that is what I want! I can’t stand this constant pestering!”

  “Don’t be like that, Mick. You know that isn’t fair. I am just trying to help.”

  Without another word, I storm out of her house. Sam chases me down the street, due to my now gimpy leg t doesn’t take her long to catch me. Now she is begging me to come back, but I am leaving. I feel hurt and betrayed, but mostly, I felt worried about my future. This is not about me and Sam—it’s about my inability to know how I am going to support myself and my impending child.

  I take a cab back to my house and I’m shocked to see that it was vandalized. I slowly get out of the cab and survey the damage as I make my way inside. All along the floor are empty bottles of beer. The windows are smashed and the walls spray painted with graffiti. I feel very taken advantage of. Sick to my stomach and weak. The way I feel about my career is now echoed in the halls of my home.

  From the depths of my stomach comes a guttural scream. I have had enough! I am sick and tired of feeling afraid. I am sick and tired of feeling like I have been taken advantage of. Mostly I was sick and tired of being a passenger in my life. It is time to take control.

  Over the next few hours, I make calls to disaster recovery companies to come and seal my property. I still have lots of money and they are not going to take my home. Then I dial my father’s number.

  “Hi, Dad. It’s Mick.”

  “Mick, how are you? How’s the leg?”

  “It’s all good. Listen, can I stay with you a while?”

  “You know you are always welcome here. What happened to Sam?”

  “Things are just complicated right now. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Yeah, no problem. Come over anytime.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  I go into the garage and get out my old beater that I love so much. In the back are a few surf boards staring at me, waiting for some type of response. I get out of the car, rip the boards out, and smash them into as many pieces as I can. My fit of rage has all but exhausted me. My injuries have left me in a shape that was less than ideal. Any type of physical activity exhausts me. As I stand over the pile of Styrofoam and shards of epoxy, I breathe heavily. I’m not sure why I needed to do that, but part of me feels better that I did.

  I wait impatiently by the door for the disaster recovery team to come
by and I throw the supervisor the keys while rolling out of the driveway. I don’t even stop to talk to him. He looks at me in disbelief.

  “You have my number, call me and tell me what it has to cost.”

  He blinks. “Uh… okay.”

  I speed out of my driveway with a full mind. How did my life get to this point, all because of one shark? My phone begins to ring and as I look down I notice its Jaime. Jaime has been calling me nonstop for the past few months and I still have not responded to him. I also have not responded to my sponsors, or the rest of the world. I have become a complete recluse.

  Pulling into the San Onofre parking lot, I roll slowly in so I can spot my father’s “house.” This is no house—it’s a beat-up old mobile home. I love my dad, but the way he chooses to live does not resonate with me. I park right beside his old Junker as he comes out to greet me.

  “My boy! Come on in.”

  “Hey, Dad.”

  I feel like his child again as I walk into his mobile home that he affectionately refers to as his wife, and he gives me the tour as he always does. I will never understand why he wants to show me around. It’s like it gives him a sense of pride.