by Mia Carson
Contents
TITLE: BOYFRIEND MATERIAL
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
CONNECT
BOYFRIEND MATERIAL
(A Billionaire Romance)
By
Mia Carson
COPYRIGHT © 2016
All Rights Reserved
Chapter 1
The pendant glistened in the afternoon sun, the sapphires and diamonds glittering as they always did when the light was just right. Iris held the old family heirloom tightly in her hand, hating herself for what she was about to do. Wherever her parents were, in heaven or not, she hoped they would forgive her for it one day.
Iris rubbed her forehead at the headache blooming there and glanced down at the stack of bills on the desk. “Damn it,” she whispered harshly. “You just couldn’t manage to keep Dad’s antique store open, and look where you are.”
She needed to get to the pawn shop before it closed today to sell the heirloom, and after that, she had to get to the hospital to check on her eighteen-year-old brother, Sam. He’d been in and out of the hospital for the last three months, and the medical bills only added to the pile of late and unpaid bills for the house, the utilities… everything. There was no money left, and Iris was running out of options fast. She hadn’t been able to find a job because of Sam and his condition. The lung cancer had hit him hard, and so far, remission seemed impossible. She pushed back from the desk, snatched up her stained canvas purse, and stormed to the front door, ready to walk the few blocks into the center of town. It always felt longer than it was, getting there, the weight of her decisions falling heavier on her shoulders with each step, but what could she do?
Steeling herself for another hard afternoon of wondering where she’d gone wrong, she had her hand on the front door when the phone rang. Hoping it was a call for a new job, she rushed to answer it. “Hello?”
“Iris? This is Dr. Wallace at the hospital,” a gentle voice said.
Iris’s heart sank and she fell into a nearby chair. “Sam… is he alright? What happened?”
“Nothing happened. Sam’s just fine,” Dr. Wallace said, and Iris gripped the table in relief. “I need you to come in sooner than you were planning so we can go over a few things that have come up. Do you have time?”
Iris swallowed her bitter laughter at the idea of having anything better to do. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Good—and Iris? It’s good news for a change, so don’t worry yourself sick.”
“It's too late for that, I’m afraid,” she said and let out a heavy breath. “I'm not sure I know how to do anything else these days.”
“Your parents would be proud of you both for fighting so hard,” he assured her.
“Yeah, I’ll just bet they would.”
Iris hung up and glanced around their home until her stormy gray eyes landed on a family photo on the wall across the room. It had been taken four years ago, just a few months before Iris’s world had crashed down around her. She stood and walked to it, running her fingers over the glass and glared. “Why did you leave us?” she whispered, her words echoing in the empty house before she turned and walked out.
The hospital wasn’t far away—nothing in this town was—so she walked. It was a small town, and the hospital was located in the center. When Sam was first diagnosed with cancer, they had to drive all the way across the state for a doctor, but Dr. Wallace moved to town—their first oncologist—and Sam was able to stay closer to home. It helped the family, or at least Iris’s parents, but none of that mattered now. She doubted they’d be able to stay here much longer. The only family they had left was a distant aunt who lived in California. Iris was a Newton, and Newtons never took charity, but if her luck didn’t turn around soon, they wouldn’t have a choice.
“Morning, Iris,” Jackie, one of the front desk greeters called out after Iris reached the three-story hospital and stepped inside. “Here to see Sam?”
“Yes. Dr. Wallace called, said he had good news. Do you know anything about it?”
Jackie shook her head, but the smile on her face gave her away. “I think you need to hear it from the doc for yourself, honey.”
Iris nodded slowly, uncertain as she climbed the two flights of stairs to the small oncology wing. Dr. Wallace paced at the top, a clipboard in hand, and when he spotted Iris, a smile broke out on his middle-aged face as he hurried forward.
“Iris! You won’t believe it,” he announced and drew her into a tight hug. “Your brother… He’s in remission!”
“What?” she asked, hugging him back as tears stung her eyes. “He’s… he’s going to be okay?”
“Not a speck of cancer,” he confirmed and let her go, holding her shoulders as he stared down at her from behind his small glasses. “Sam will be able to go home by Sunday evening, so he’s got a few more days to rest here. We’ll have to go over what he’ll need to do to keep up his strength, as well as medications, but we’ll talk about it later. Why don’t you go see him? He’s been waiting since I told him an hour ago.”
Wiping the tears of joy from her eyes, Iris nodded and ran down the short hall to Sam’s room. She didn’t knock as she burst in. “Sam?”
“Iris! Did he tell you?” Sam yelled excitedly. “Remission! Six years fighting this shit, and I’m finally in remission!”
Iris dropped her purse and rushed to his side, hopping on the bed to hold him in her arms. He was so small and fragile, but the cancer was finally gone. He held her just as tightly, and they cried together on the hospital bed as Dr. Wallace and Sam’s regular nurse, Ben, stood in the doorway, watching with bright eyes.
“Too bad Mom and Dad aren’t here to see it,” he said through his tears, wiping hastily at his face, a face that was the mirror image of Henry’s—their dad's. “Can you imagine what they’d be saying?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I could,” she said and forced a smile, pushing his brown hair from his face. “That you need a haircut and some fresh clothes to come home in.” The rest of the words caught in her throat, and she choked up, turning away from Sam before he saw the immense worry flooding her as she tried to figure out how they were going to start paying off the medical bills and whatever else he needed to get by.
“Iris? Why don’t we talk a little now, and then you and Sam can talk some more about your plans for getting him home?” Dr. Wallace suggested.
“Sounds good. Don’t go anywhere, kid,” she said and kissed the top of Sam’s head.
He rolled his eyes. “I'm eighteen now, Iris, not a kid.”
“You’ll always be a damn kid to me,” she teased and followed Wallace out the door as Ben stepped in to check Sam’s IV and chat with him, probably about the local high school football team.
“So, how bad is it going to be for him at home?” she asked when they were out of earshot.
“I’ll give you a detailed list for his diet and what medication I want him to stay on,” Wallace told her. “He’ll need lots of rest while he recovers, and though it might be hard for him, he can’t just go gallivanting around town like he used to. He’s healing, and it’s going to take time.”
“How long do you think it’ll last?” she asked so quietly she wasn’t sure Wallace heard her, but his heavy sigh told her he had as he glanced with her towards the room.
&
nbsp; “Hopefully, years, but sometimes, it can only be months. We need to be prepared for that,” he said quietly. “I never want to think of it happening, but there’s always a chance.”
Iris nodded, hugging herself tightly as she listened to her brother laugh cheerfully.
A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned to see Wallace smiling at her. “But there’s also a chance it will never come back.”
“I know, I just… I want him to be a normal teenager now,” she said, smiling as Sam and Ben joked loudly, their laughter spreading out into the hall. “I just want everything to be perfect for him, and it won’t be. Not even close.”
“What do you mean?” Wallace asked.
Iris sighed as she forced a smile. “Nothing, just big sister over-worrying again. Everything’s fine. I’m going to say bye to Sam. I need to run a few errands. You said he’s good here until Sunday?”
“Yes,” Wallace said, eyeing her closely as he removed his glasses. “Iris, I don’t want you to worry too much about the bills.”
Her bark of a laugh was loud, and she quickly reigned in her frayed emotions, thinking of the necklace tucked in her purse. “Sorry, it’s just hard to do that when we’ve lost so much already and I’m still out of work and—” She cut herself off, sucking in a breath, and Wallace walked her over to a pair of chairs. “I’m sorry. I promise I’m not unstable.”
“I think you’re allowed to be after what you’ve been through,” he said honestly. “Listen, if you ever need someone just to talk to, you can always give me a call.”
“Thanks, but you’ve already done so much for us. If you hadn’t come here, I’m not sure where we’d be right now,” she said and puffed out her cheeks. “Actually, I do, and I have a feeling I would not be with Sam, not as much as he needs me to be.”
“Stop being so hard on yourself and just take it day by day,” he said and patted her shoulder. “And please, call me if you need anything, alright?”
She smiled and shook his hand. “Thanks, Dr. Wallace, really.”
He nodded, strode off down the hall, and picked up a clipboard from another door before knocking and entering. Iris sat in the hard, plastic chair for a few minutes longer, trying to gather her thoughts and steel her nerves. Sam didn’t know how bad it was, and she wasn’t going to let him find out. One way or another, she’d get the bills caught up and save their house, the last remembrance they had of their parents since the shop closed. She hadn’t wanted to take it over in the first place, hadn’t wanted to stay in this tiny-ass town, but life didn’t give her a choice and now she was stuck. Once the shop shut down, she felt as though she lost a part of her mom she’d never get back.
Walking past it every day to sell another family heirloom at the pawn shop didn’t help matters.
“What can you do?” she muttered to herself as she stood. “Get through it like always. What choice do we have? No one’s going to come save our asses anytime soon.”
She’d check on Sam and visit for a little longer, then she’d go see Joe at the pawn shop and see how much money he’d be willing to give her this time.
***
After the last box was lugged inside, Alec let the front door close, and he looked around his new, empty house, devoid of anyone except himself. “Perfect,” he muttered and picked up his bottle of Blue Moon. “Utterly alone, just the way I like it.”
He chugged the rest of the beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His twenty or so boxes were stacked haphazardly around the foyer and trailed into the living room which currently lacked any furniture. It was supposed to be delivered that morning, but there’d been an issue getting the furniture out of the house he used to occupy. Something about his mom refusing to let the ruffians inside to steal her son’s things. He’d called three times to tell her to let them do their job, and she’d finally relented, but only after giving him another lecture.
Running his hands through dark brown hair trailing almost down to his shoulders, Alec kicked off his boots and meandered to the boxes in the living room, mocking his mom, Margaret, on the way.
“My son, my eldest son, is going to move to the middle of nowhere, North Dakota,” he grumbled in a high-pitched voice, “and he’s going to run his own gun range! When he has workers for that, all over some woman.”
Not paying attention, he walked right into a stack of boxes, kicked the bottom one, and stubbed his toe. Cursing, he hopped up and down, glaring at the clearly written label on the side saying there were books in all the boxes he just ran into.
“Why are all the women in my life driving me insane?” he asked, throwing his head back as if the ceiling would give him an answer. “Honestly. What the hell did I do to deserve this?”
He wasn’t sure what type of answer he was looking for, and after the last few weeks, he wasn’t sure he wanted any. He maneuvered around the rest of the boxes, limping as his big toe continued to throb, and reached the fridge. The only thing in it was beer, and he snagged another one, popped the bottle cap off, and tossed it on the counter. He chugged half of it, wishing that he wasn’t such a big guy and that it actually did something for him. He considered getting his boots back on and taking his guns to the range for an hour to blow off steam when the doorbell rang.
Alec set his beer down on the counter, pulling out his cell to see if he’d missed a call from the moving truck. They were supposed to call once they were on their way, but when he reached the door and pulled it open, he stared.
“Well, hello to you too, brother,” his younger brother August said with a smirk, holding a duffel bag over his right shoulder.
“Where have you been?” Alec asked and yanked his brother into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet. “Why didn’t you call me, you jackass?”
“Hey, watch the name calling,” August said with a laugh followed by a groan when Alec squeezed harder. “Damn, will you stop working out so much? One of these days, you’re going to kill me with those guns of yours.”
Alec set him down and grabbed August’s duffel, carrying it into the house. “Maybe you shouldn’t have left without a word and then not called for three years,” he argued. “You could’ve been right beside me. You know I opened three new ranges this year alone? Moved out here to be with the latest one while it gets off the ground.”
“And that’s the only reason you came out to Nowhere, North Dakota, is it?” August asked.
Alec dropped his duffel on the floor with a loud thud and turned towards the kitchen. “How about a beer? I think you need a beer.”
“And you’re avoiding the issue,” August challenged, walking after him.
Alec gripped the fridge door hard as he glared intently at the beer bottles without reaching out to grab one. His brother was a lot like him. They almost looked alike, too, except for a few minor differences in their eyes, and August was leaner. When they were little, though, they always knew exactly what the other one was thinking, and Alec really hoped his brother still had the gift.
“It’s about Nikki, isn’t it?”
Alec’s head fell forward, and he shook his head. Clearly, we’re out of practice. “No, this has nothing to do with Nikki.”
“You’re so full of shit I can smell it on you,” August announced. “Come on, man. I came back—risking the wrath of Mom—to check on you, so don’t start your lying bullshit now.”
“I don’t want to talk about her, okay? Not today, not tomorrow, not for the rest of my damn life! Got it?” He slammed the fridge door, and the beer inside rattled loudly, several bottles most likely falling over. Alec’s eyes rolled upwards, praying to whomever would listen for strength.
“Can I at least get my beer if you’re going to yell at me while playing the denial game?”
“Sure, if you come clean about why you left,” Alec countered and opened the fridge carefully. A few bottles rolled, but he caught them and tossed one to August.
His brother fiddled with the cap before twisting it off and tossing it on the counter.
“Yeah, about that… I’m not sure if you want to deal with that shit-storm on top of the one you’re already going through, at least not sober.”
“Whatever you’re going to tell me can’t be worse than what that stuck-up bitch did to me,” he mumbled as he raised his beer for another gulp.
August peeled at the label on his bottle and cringed. “Actually, I think it can be.”
Alec leaned back against the counter. “Well, I have no furniture yet, so this is as close to sitting as I’m going to get. Why did you leave?”
“Where is your furniture?” his brother mused, glancing around, but Alec knew he was stalling on purpose. He glared at him with narrowed eyes until August finally sighed and hopped up on the other end of the counter, staring down at his beer. “You know how Dad always treated me a little differently?”
“No,” Alec began, but August raised an eyebrow at him. “Alright, I guess so, but he didn’t treat you badly.”
“I never said badly, just differently. Well, I finally found out why. After Dad died, a letter was sent to me, from him, to be sent after his death,” he explained. “I am not his biological son. Mom had an affair with his business partner when you were five.”
Alec grinned, thinking his brother was kidding, but when August didn’t smile back, his chest tightened, and he straightened. “Mom cheated on Dad with Frank?”
“Yeah, funny, isn’t it?”
“No,” he said shaking his head. “That’s not right. She wouldn’t. She loved Dad.”
“Apparently, she got drunk one night while Dad was out of town,” Alec said and reached into his leather jacket pocket. “Frank swung by the house to grab some files, she yanked him in the door, and they… well, you know.”
Alec cringed and nodded, not wanting to imagine his mom doing anything of that sort. “Is that the letter?”
“Yep, explains everything.” He held it out, and Alec walked over to take it. “Dad made a joke one day about how much I looked like Frank, and when Frank froze, Dad realized the truth. Mom confessed it a few days later when he kept pushing her about it.”