Imperfect Penelope (Wild Crush)

by Sami Lee

  For that matter, how had he gotten in the house? Greg didn’t leave it unlocked. Had Bryan broken in?

  “I need some stuff,” Bryan mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

  “What stuff?”

  “Personal papers, okay? Jeez.” Bryan tried for a laugh, but it sounded forced and strange. “Can’t a guy visit his own brother?”

  “During the day, when I’m home, of course,” Greg said coolly. “You don’t break and enter.”

  “I wasn’t sure when you’d get back and the taxi had already left.” Bryan’s eyes turned into thin, dark slits. “Thought you were spending the night with Penny.”

  Greg’s blood chilled. “What did you say?”

  “Saw you at her place. Looked like you were getting real cozy. You fucking her?”

  Greg’s heart rate tripled and the chill in his bones turned hot. “What were you doing at Penny’s house?”

  Apparently realizing he’d revealed more than he’d intended to, Bryan tried to laugh it off. “Hell. It doesn’t matter. I was done with her anyway. That’s a turnaround, isn’t it? Me being first at something for once.”

  “You need to stop talking about Penny.”

  Bryan stilled at Greg’s tone, which even to his own ears was threatening. He and Bryan had had their brotherly arguments over the years, but never had Greg wanted to punch Bryan in the face as much as he did now. At his sides, his hands curled into fists. If Bryan had been in top form, Greg might even have done it.

  However, it had become clear in the last few minutes that his brother was not at his best. His eyes kept darting around the room, either searching for what he’d come here for or an exit. He was fidgety and evasive. He looked like a desperate man spiraling out of control. Greg’s heart grew heavy and sank to the pit of his stomach.

  “You’re in debt again, aren’t you?”

  If anything, Bryan appeared relieved that Greg had come to the obvious conclusion. He let out a weighty sigh. “Not much.”

  “How much?”

  “A few grand.” Bryan’s gaze darted away from Greg’s steady one. “Eight and a half.”

  Greg swore under his breath. It wasn’t the amount that disappointed him, it was the fact his brother had gone down this road, when he’d looked in Greg’s eyes and promised he was done with gambling once and for all. He’d seemed to mean it. His shame had certainly been real.

  It was real now too, Greg realized, seeing that Bryan still wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. Shame simply wasn’t enough to keep him from his habit. Addiction, Greg corrected. His brother was an addict.

  “Why, Bryan?” Greg asked, wanting to understand something that made little sense to him. “You never wanted for things. We grew up in a great house, went to the best schools…”

  “All things that Dad provided. Don’t forget that. He never let us forget that.”

  “Dad’s a pompous ass.” Greg had never actually said that out loud, but on some level he’d always known it was true. He’d left them, allowing their relationship to dwindle to occasional visits at Christmas, during which he would subtly list each and every way his sons had disappointed him that year. The honorable judge. It was a joke. “What’s that have to do with anything?”

  “You don’t get it,” Bryan said in despair. “You were the good son. What good was a B average when you got straight As? Why bother trying out for the relay team if your older brother was already running anchor? Why even try to make something of myself, if I wasn’t going to be a lawyer, like my brother? Nothing else would have impressed him.”

  “You can’t impress Dad,” Greg said, shocked that Bryan still thought that was possible.

  “You impressed him. He might not have told you, but he sure told me. Every chance he got. ‘At least if you had your brother’s work ethic, I might think there was some hope you’d do something with your life.’ That’s what he said to me last time I saw him. Last year, just before you got married. Or almost did. Ha!” Bryan let out that miserable laugh. “Finally, Greggy boy screws up. So I figure here’s my chance. I make it big, make my own fortune. Then he’ll see how wrong he was.”

  “Bryan…”

  His brother went on, looking Greg in the eye, his dark irises bright with the light of true belief. “I’m good at this, Greg. I can read tells, calculate odds fast, in my head. Maths was never even my best subject at school, but I can do that. I can outsmart people. I can win.”

  “Apparently, not more often than you lose,” Greg pointed out.

  “Fuck you!” Bryan roared, his eyes flashing fire. He stalked over to Greg’s desk and started pulling out drawer after drawer. “All I need is another shot. I know you keep that old checkbook around here somewhere. Where is it?”

  Greg watched his brother rifle through his drawers with frantic movements. His heart was a leaden thing in his chest. His eyes burned. A memory came to him with cruel timing. He was on the manicured lawn of his parents’ house, holding a cricket bat, encouraging Bryan to bowl. Bryan couldn’t have been more than five, Greg a mere thirteen. Bryan tried and tried to hit the stumps but no matter how badly Greg would bat, the ball wouldn’t connect. At least not until it hit Greg on the foot and rolled backwards—with a little help from the edge of Greg’s sneaker.

  Bryan had been excited to have bested his big brother. How long had Greg been helping his younger sibling, giving him a little push here, making things a bit easier for him where he could? Defending him no matter what he did? When Bryan had broken the antique vase in the front room, Greg had taken the blame. There were other similar incidents over the years, too many to name them all. Protecting Bryan, his little brother by eight years, had been second nature to Greg from the moment his mother had brought him home from the hospital.

  He’d protect him always. He’d protect Bryan from himself.

  “Bryan,” he said. “I can help. There are places I can take you, treatment centers that can handle your problem.”

  “What? No. Just a couple of checks, that’s all I want. Fuck. Won’t you even give me that? You owe me.” Bryan’s eyes narrowed on Greg as he found an angle he thought he could use. It was a calculating look, one that chilled Greg. “You owe me for Penny.”

  “No, I don’t. You never loved her.”

  “Oh, and you do?”

  “Yes.” He answered without hesitation. Penny might not believe him, but he knew the truth in his heart. He loved her, and he’d prove it to her. But not tonight. She’d indicated he needed time and as it turned out he did. He needed time to save his brother.

  Bryan scoffed and shook his head. “Whatever. Mum will have a pink fit if you take a veggo left-wing voter home to meet her, but it’s your funeral. This is locked. It’s in here, isn’t it?”

  Bryan tugged on the top drawer on Greg’s writing desk. It wouldn’t budge.

  “It’s made of Tasmanian oak,” Greg said, sounding strangely calm. “Brass locks. You won’t get it open.”

  Swearing, Bryan put his sneakered foot on the edge of the desk and pulled harder on the knob.

  “Even if you break it apart and find the checkbook, I won’t write you one. I won’t give you any more money, Bryan. I told you that last time.”

  “I know what your signature looks like.”

  “You’re going to forge checks? That’s your big plan? You’re going to commit fraud so you can win your fortune at poker, and you think that will impress Dad?”

  Bryan didn’t answer as he yanked on the drawer. Greg came farther into the room, slowly, like he was circling a wild animal.

  “It’s no use, Bryan,” Greg said gently. “It’s time to let it go.”

  Bryan cursed at the drawer, one long drawn-out syllable that roared out of him until there was no breath left in his body, and the sweat on his palms made him lose his grip on the knob. He fell backwards, landing hard against the wall. Greg heard th
e plaster give way and flinched. He watched as Bryan grew motionless, his face screwed up in anguish. A sob shot out of him, a mournful wail that broke Greg’s heart, and Bryan sank down to the floor and wept like a baby.

  Greg approached him, his own eyes stinging. Very slowly, he sat beside Bryan. He reached out and put his arm around his brother’s shoulders, drawing him gently into his side. His breath caught when Bryan clung to him and cried, the way he’d done when he was little and had skinned his knee. Greg felt the wetness track down his own cheeks because in that moment he realized his little brother was broken.

  Greg held him and crooned soft assurances for as long as it took. Long minutes while Bryan emptied his misery. When his sobs had ebbed and he eased out of Greg’s arms, Greg said, “There’s a place on the outskirts of Sydney. I looked into it when you first… I’ve looked into it. I can take you there, but you have to sign yourself in. That’s the rule. Will you do that?”

  Swiping at his eyes, Bryan nodded. “What about the money? I owe a short-term finance company, the interest rates…”

  “Give me the details. I’ll take care of it.” He added in a flat voice, “It’s the last time.”

  “I know.”

  Bryan seemed more sure of that than Greg was.

  “I’m s-sorry,” Bryan sniffled. “I know I fucked everything up.”

  “I know you know.” Greg just hoped he’d remember that throughout the recovery process, which could take months and would require a lot of self-reflection on his brother’s part. “You can start fixing it now. We’ll leave tonight. Stop on the way if we have to.”

  “Okay.” Now that the fight had gone out of him, Bryan had turned meek. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve one final time and looked Greg in the eye. Greg could tell how hard it was for him to do that. “I’m sorry for what I said about Penny. That’s real? You love her?”

  “I do.”

  “Good. That’s good. She’s nice. I wasn’t nice to her though.”

  “No. You weren’t.”

  “She keeps her rent money in a tea canister. I was going to go there tonight and…” His words trailed off as color stained his cheeks. He looked back down at his knees. “It was about nine hundred I took last time. Do you think you could—”

  “She won’t take it from me,” Greg cut off the suggestion. “Says it’s your debt. You’ll have to pay her yourself, when you’re back on your feet.”

  Bryan’s spine straightened, and for a moment he seemed to fill with purpose. “I’ll do that. I promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  “I just wanted him to…I don’t know. I wanted him to be proud of me.”

  Greg understood the desire to make their father proud, no matter how impossible it seemed. He’d done that. Gone to law school without even thinking if that was what he wanted. He was a good lawyer, as it turns out, and he’d probably stick with it. Unless he decided to quit one day and buy a coffee van, park it at the beach and watch life go by.

  He smiled at the thought. Penny would think that was a brilliant idea, as long as it made him happy.

  “I thought if I won big, I could go home and flash all that money in his face, you know? Dumb idea. But I thought maybe he’d look at me, just once, and I’d feel like he thought I was somebody.”

  “You are somebody.” Greg’s voice caught as he touched a hand to Bryan’s shoulder. “You’re my brother.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Penny woke to the sound of a high-pitched meowing that was worse than a cordless drill being turned on right next to her ear. She rolled over and blinked until Maleficent’s pointy little face came into focus. The cat was sitting nose to nose with her, glaring.

  “What’s your problem?”

  Maleficent didn’t deign to reiterate her meow, now that her purpose—destroying Penny’s attempt to forget her misery in extended slumber—had been achieved. She merely continued to glare accusingly. You know what you did, lady.

  Oh she knew what she’d done all right. She’d lost the plot, that’s what. The man of her dreams had said he loved her, and she’d kicked him out.

  Penny groaned. “Go away,” she told the cat, before rolling onto her side and pulling the pillow over her face.

  She heard the light pitty-pat of the feline’s feet on her quilt as Maleficent departed in disgust. She sighed. It was no use anyway. She was awake. Had been awake on and off throughout what felt like the longest night in history. Her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep and crying, which she kept doing no matter how many times she told herself it was stupid. He’d said he loved her. It was supposed to be a good thing.

  But his words had only been words, uttered in the heat of the moment after they’d shared the orgasm to end all orgasms. The way he’d held his body stiff all through Runaway Bride, the way he’d physically flinched when she’d mentioned her church-wedding dreams, those were actions. Everyone knew actions spoke louder than words.

  He was still holding on to a lot of pain, and she couldn’t let herself be used as a salve any longer. It was too terrifying to know she was in love one hundred and fifty percent, while he didn’t even have a full complement of his heart to give her. Not until he let go of his ex-fiancée once and for all.

  The thought of perfect Rochelle made Penny sick to her stomach. In her mind she pictured Angelina Jolie, only more beautiful and with a greater dedication to charity work. How was she supposed to compete with that? It was possible telling Greg to go be with her was a colossal mistake.

  Well, she didn’t tell him to go be with her. She suggested he talk to her, to tie off the loose ends of their relationship. Surely Greg wouldn’t interpret that as a suggestion he get back together with the woman.

  Not wanting to think about that too long, Penny got out of bed in a flurry of movement and headed for the shower. Some calming yoga might have helped, but it was too late. She had to get to work.

  When she arrived at the clinic, Summer told her she looked terrible. Penny thanked her grouchily and went about her day, numbing herself by concentrating on client after client until it was time to shut up shop and go home to obsess about the fact Greg hadn’t called.

  He’d called or texted her every day since she’d given him her number. Penny had gotten used to those messages, had started to look forward to them. His radio silence sat heavily on her chest. By the time Penny crawled into bed that night, the weight was heavier than an anvil pressing down on her. Not a single word from Greg. She thought of texting him but she had no idea what to say. I’m sorry? She wasn’t sorry for the words themselves. She couldn’t run full pelt into a relationship with a man who still had one foot in his last one.

  But my God, this hurt. Being without Greg hurt. Penny missed him so much she cried herself to sleep and woke seven hours later to the sound of her phone ringing.

  She knocked it off the nightstand in her haste to grab it, falling out of bed in a tangle of sheets in her panicked attempt to retrieve it from the floor. Her knee slammed into the hard wood, and Penny cursed as she found the device and pressed the accept button. “Hello? Hello? Are you still there?”

  “Barely. Took you long enough to answer.”

  Hearing Hope’s voice was like a sharp jab to the stomach when she’d hoped…she’d hoped… Penny struggled to issue a croaky greeting. “Hi.”

  “Shit. You sound bad. Got a cold?”

  Penny sniffled loudly. “No.”

  “Oooh, I interrupted something, didn’t I? You and the lawyer banging the headboard?”

  Penny answered in one long, high-pitched whine. “Noooooooo.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  Using the sheet to dab at her eyes, Penny took a shuddery breath and tried to control her wayward emotions. “We had a fight.”

  “What about?”

  “The effect Julia Roberts had on his mood.”

  “Ah�
��I’ll give you some advice for free. Julia affects all guys like that. It’s the long legs.”

  “Not like that,” Penny said, wishing all she had to contend with was a harmless crush on a movie star. “It’s complicated. And I’m probably going to be late for work already.”

  “Tonight then. Friday-night girls drinks. I’ll call Em.”

  “Okay, if you want.”

  “When do I not want Friday-night drinks? I’ll text you later with the details.”

  Penny agreed meekly and hung up, doubting she’d feel like downing fluffy cocktails anytime soon.

  Somehow she got it together and went to work, but her heart wasn’t in it and the bags under her eyes could probably carry enough supplies for a European vacation. At a little after ten, Summer bailed Penny up in treatment room one.

  “Mr. Freshwater just canceled, and I don’t have another appointment for thirty minutes. We’re going out to get tea.”

  Penny blinked in surprise. Summer wasn’t usually bossy. “Pardon?”

  “Tea. Now. Come on.”

  Summer clicked her fingers commandingly, looking quite fearsome for a woman of five feet two who could barely waddle from room to room. Figuring a cup of tea wouldn’t go astray anyway, Penny followed orders. Summer stopped to flick the Back Soon sign over on the front door, and together they headed to the Beach Break Café, where they ran into Summer’s sister Jasmine.

  “Oh hey, you two.” Jasmine pointed to the sweets cabinet in front of her. “What looks good, the caramel slice or the berry custard tart? I feel like something wicked.”

  “Don’t you always?” Summer retorted. She surveyed the selection of treats. “The berry tart looks more your style. I’ll have an apple slice, no cream. What do you want, Penny?”

  Penny glanced at the selection in the display case with minimal enthusiasm. “Nothing. Just a cup of green tea.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Penny rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Do I look like I need to fatten up or something? I don’t feel like anything. That okay with you?”

  A look passed between the two sisters that made Penny feel like a lab experiment they were telepathically exchanging notes about. Penny ignored them and found a booth in the back, nabbing it before anyone else did. A few minutes later, Penny was surprised to see Hope and Emily walk into the café. Hope spoke to Summer quickly, before spotting Penny in the booth and heading her way.