RICHARD (A BAD BOY ROMANCE)

by Wild, Nikki

“Paging Doctor Powell. Doctor Powell, please call extension_._._._”

  The intercom blared through the linoleum-lined hallway, but I couldn’t have cared less about what it had to say. I hated hospitals. Ever since my stepmother, Nancy, had gone the way she had—withered, gaunt, with tubes sticking out of her nose and her arms—I couldn’t see hospitals as anything other than death houses.

  The worst part, I think, is all the damn waiting, sitting outside while doctors and nurses poke and prod, asking the same questions over and over without ever giving any answers. I remembered the way my dad had sat in the waiting room time after time whenever they’d hospitalize Mom for her treatments, the look on his face: hopelessness.

  And now I was back, sitting where he’d been while Mom turned into a hollowed-out husk, powerless to even lift a finger to help her.

  Things hadn’t gotten any better after she’d passed. Dad started drinking, back to the same old self he’d been after my birth mom had left. Nancy had breathed life into him, and for once, I hadn’t had to pick him up off the couch and pull him back to bed. Her effect on him was probably why I’d come to love Nancy the way I did—the way a son loves his own mother. She showed me that I wasn’t the only one who cared what happened to Jim.

  Fuckin’ Jim.

  This time, the whiskey made him mean when before he’d just been pathetic. He’d cuss and scream, pour all of his blame and hatred on Tanya and I until I couldn’t take it anymore. I screamed back, argued, and fought until both our voices were hoarse and Tanya was crying into my shirt. I remembered the anger, the resentment. But more than that, I remembered the first time he hit me.

  He had come home late—which wasn’t out of the ordinary back then—reeking of booze and cigarettes. I’d put Tanya to bed hours before and waited at the kitchen table, my jaw set and ready for the screaming match that was about to happen. He started in on me as soon as he came into the kitchen, yelling and screaming about how I wasn’t worth a damn, about how everything that had happened was all my fault. How Nancy’s death was all my fault.

  None of it made sense, obviously. Not a whole lot I could do about her cancer. So I yelled back, like always, but that time he thought he’d teach a lesson to my left eye.

  I don’t remember much after that. Just the pain, then the sound of his head hitting the oven door as I crumpled to the floor. I’d hit him back, hit him so hard that I might have even broke his nose.

  Then suddenly I was outside, walking. I couldn’t even remember how long I’d been walking for—minutes? Hours? Before I knew it, I was on my friend Chuck’s doorstep, asking if he had a spot on his couch I could crash on for a while.

  I’d never gone back. Never even bothered to try talking to my dad again. As far as I’d been concerned that part of my life was buried, even the shame I’d felt for leaving Tanya back there with that asshole.

  She must fucking hate me, I thought. Hell, I hated myself for what I’d done. If there was a shittiest stepbrother of the century award, I should have probably put my name in for consideration. And who the hell knew what Jim had told her all these years? Who knew if she’d believed him?

  Shit. I couldn’t believe how much she’d changed—how much of a woman she’d become. In my head, all I could imagine was the pudgy little ten-year-old, smiling at me while we walked home from school together after I picked her up. That wasn’t her now, though. Now Tanya was_._._._taller. Slender, but with curves that could knock a man out. She weighed almost nothing, but even from the brief time I’d held her in my arms, I could tell she was all muscle.

  That hair. Those lips. Those eyes. I hadn’t even recognized her. Had actually, shamefully been thinking about cashing in my “I saved your life” card and fucking her in the moment before I went back into that goddamned inferno. Now that I knew she was my stepsister, that urge should’ve gone away.

  Why the fuck hasn’t it, though?

  I glanced over toward the door to Tanya’s room, movement drawing my gaze as a nurse in blue scrubs gently closed the door after herself. Our eyes locked and she make a beeline right for me.

  “Mr. Cole?” she asked, a tight smile tugging at her lips. It was the kind of smile you give someone you’d rather not be talking to.

  “Gunner Cole.” Mr. Cole was what peopled called Jim. “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “So far, we think your sister is going to be fine,” she said. I let out a sigh of relief. “They haven’t found any soot in her lungs The worst she has is just some minor burns on her palms, and her bloodwork is what you’d expect after all that smoke inhalation.”

  Well, that was all good news. “Can I go in and see her?” I asked.

  “Your sister has gone through a lot today, Mr. Cole. I think letting her rest might be the best—”

  “I haven’t seen her in a long time,” I interrupted. “Years, actually. And when I pulled her out of that fire_._._._”

  Who was I kidding? When I pulled Tanya out of that fire, I was just in it for myself. One more rescue. One more life saved to mark on my wall. It was all about me.

  It wasn’t until the phone call from the hospital that I’d realized just what a dick I was, how much of a fucking asshole, piece of shit I’d turned out to be for her. I’d probably disappointed her just as much as Jim had, over the years. Maybe worse.

  I ran my hand through my hair. “I’d just—I’d really like to be able to see her. Please?”

  The nurse looked at me for a long time, almost like she was sizing me up, deciding whether or not it was worth it. But after a while she sighed and stepped away, waving me through.

  “You’ve got a few minutes. But she needs rest.”

  “Thank you_._._._” I glanced down at her nametag. “Claudia.”

  “Mmmhmm,” she replied, retreating to the nurse’s station.

  The curtain was closed when I came into the room, blocking my view. Despite what the nurse had said, a bit of dread crept into the pit of my stomach. Images of my stepmother lying in that hospital bed all those years ago flashed before my eyes and a chill seized my heart.

  “Tanya?” I whispered. They’d given her a private room—thank God. I don’t think I could have dealt with having some stranger sit in while I tried to_._._._to do what, exactly? Apologize? Was there even an apology for doing something as terrible as leaving her to be abused by my asshole of a father? And hell, I’d done it again, didn’t I? I’d left her outside that apartment.

  I should’ve stayed. I should’ve protected her. Instead I ran off to play hero to a bunch of other people while she still needed my help_._._._

  No… I couldn’t think that way. I’d pulled six people out of that fire. Two kids. I’d have gone back in even if I had recognized her. It’s my job… It’s my responsibility.

  “Gunner?” Her voice was hoarse, raspy, like she’d been smoking since she was eight. “Is that you?”

  It took me a moment to steel my nerves again. “Yeah,” I said, slowly pulling the curtain aside.

  God, she was so pretty, even lying there in the hospital bed. It had been impossible to see with her face covered in ash and soot, but now that she’d been cleaned up, I could see the woman that my stepsister had become.

  Instead of the little girl I’d put to bed every night, I saw a fully grown young woman, her cheekbones and slender jaw reminding me of how Nancy had looked when she and my father had first gotten married. Those had been good times for us all. Looking at Tanya was a bittersweet reminder of what could have been. How the hell did I fail to see it when I pulled her out of the fire?

  “My hero,” she said, her smile lighting up the room as I took a seat next to her bed. “Who’d have thought my big brother would be saving people from burning buildings for a living?”

  “You know me. Always looking for trouble, right?” I tried to look cheerful, but my smile faltered as Tanya tried to push herself up in bed with her bandaged right hand.

  “I can’t believe it was you,” she said, doing her best to make it seem like she wa
sn’t in any pain. “I had to fight with the nurse to get a call out to your station. When you went back into the building… I thought I might lose you again.”

  Whatever she was feeling, emotional or physical, she was hiding it well. Her face remained stoic. I remembered the way our mom had done the exact same thing when she got sick. “Jesus, Gunner, when did you decide you wanted to be a big damn hero?”

  I shrugged, toying with a frayed thread poking out of the arm of the chair. This wasn’t what I’d been expecting. I thought she’d yell. Cry. Scream at me to leave her the hell alone. But here she was, a few seconds shy of being burned to a crisp and asking me how the hell my life was. What was I supposed to say to her?

  “Come on,” she prodded, “I know you don’t just wake up one day and say ‘I want to be a fireman.’_”

  “I don’t know—I guess I always wanted to save people.”

  Since I failed to save you from Dad.

  “Well, shit,” she murmured. I could tell they’d given her something to take off the edge—probably morphine. “Now I can tell everyone my stepbrother’s a big, strong fireman. You know, instead of telling them you don’t exist_._._._”

  I sighed, running my fingers through my hair as I glanced around the room. I was waiting for her to bring it up—to bring up the way I’d just left her and never even bothered to so much as call her to make sure she was okay.

  “What about you?” I asked. “What’re you doing now?”

  Her smile faded for just a moment before it came back full force. “Oh, me? I’m a waitress.”

  Shit. If I’d stuck around, she could have been so much more. “You must be making some damn good tips to be able to afford your own place in this city.”

  “Yeah, we’re pretty busy, y’know? And I’ve got my regulars. It’s not the best, but it’s enough to get by.” Once again, her smile faded. Her eyes glazed. “Though, I guess now I don’t really have a place, do I?”

  My heart sank on her behalf. Tanya had lost everything in that fire. And all she had to show for it was a pair of burned hands and a voice like a bullfrog. Shit. How was she even going to waitress if she couldn’t carry a tray?

  “Holy fuck,” she whispered. “It’s gone. It’s all gone_._._._”

  “Tanya,” I began, but stopped as I saw the faint glimmer of tears welling in her eyes.

  “Everything’s gone,” she choked. “Everything, Gunner. My clothes, my shoes, my TV—everything. I don’t even have anywhere to sleep tonight.” She paused, breath hitching, a little wheeze escaping her throat. I grabbed the cup of water from the tray beside her and held it out so she could bring it to her lips.

  She took a few pained swallows and grimaced. Then, very softly, she said, “Jesus. Why do I always end up alone?”

  My heart broke in two right then and there.

  I wracked my brain for ways to make it better, for some idea of how I could lessen the blow I’d watched so many other people suffer while I was one the job, something Tanya never should have had to face. She was right. She’d lost so much already. Most of that was my fault. All my fucking fault.

  I had to do something. Something big. I owed her.

  I reached over, wrapping my arms around her as the first drops of tears fell from her face. I pulled her in tight the way I’d done the night Nancy had passed away and Tanya’s tears had stained my shoulder.

  “You’re going to move in to my place,” I said as she sobbed, her arms wrapped around my waist. “As soon as you can get out of here, I’ll pick you up and we’ll get you settled. I’m gonna be here for you, baby. I swear.”

  “Come on, Gunner,” she sniffled. “I can’t just move in. You must have a girlfriend, or_._._._”

  “No. There’s no one,” I assured her. “You’re moving in. I’m not gonna hear another word about it, okay? I’ve got plenty of room, I’ve got one of those pull-out couches and everything. Hell, I’m barely even there. I stay at the station most days.”

  Tanya wiped her eyes on my shirt the way she’d done when she was little. I wasn’t about to let her walk out of here without a place to go. I wasn’t going to abandon her again. Nothing she said, no protest she could voice, would make me leave her alone.

  I felt a familiar fire rise up inside of me, the same possessive flame I’d harbored while the two of us were growing up. This was my chance to make up for the one thing in my life that I’d always regretted. I wouldn’t leave my little sister out in the cold ever again.

  “Jesus,” she said, looking up into my eyes, blinking a few more tears away. “You really are a knight in shining armor, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” I chuckled, wiping an errant drop from her cheek. “I’m actually kind of a dick.”

  Tanya laughed, a sound I hadn’t heard in such a long time that I could practically feel my heart swelling. I couldn’t even believe how much of a fucking pussy I was being.

  “Did the doctor ever tell you when you were getting out?”

  She nodded. “Tomorrow morning.”

  “Then I’ll be here,” I told her, getting up from her bed. “Bright and early. So you get some rest, because tomorrow, you’re coming to stay at the Casa de Gunner. Got it?”

  “Sure,” Tanya said, leaning back against her pillow. Even those few tears she’d shed looked like they’d sapped the energy right out of her. “Thanks, Gunner. For everything.”

  I could feel that flame extinguish inside of me and turn into something dark. Maybe even hateful. I wasn’t sure who I was angry at, but that fury swelled up inside me sure as shit, desperate for a way out.

  Usually, I’d stick my dick in some girl and call it a day. But I couldn’t do that to Tanya. She was my stepsister. My sweet, beautiful, hot stepsister_._._._

  “Don’t thank me,” I told her and saw her wince just a little. “Just doing my job.” Then I left her room to report back to the fire station, bristling all the way.

  What the fuck was wrong with her, being so fucking nice to me? Thanking me? It didn’t make any sense, and it made me feel weird inside. Uneasy.

  Tanya wasn’t the one with a debt, here. I was the one who had something to repay. Maybe once I did, I could get her out of my head—out of those dark, depraved thoughts where a good girl like my stepsister didn’t belong.

  Fuck, Gunner. You’re one sick son of a bitch. Maybe even worse than your father.

  That flame stirred inside. Maybe the one she needed protection from was me.

  Chapter 4

  Tanya

  What the fuck was I thinking?

  My stepbrother, who’d taken off on our family years ago and left me with an alcoholic mess of a father—his father—had strutted back into my life like a self-important tomcat, and I’d welcomed him with open arms.

  Not only that, but I’d agreed to go live with him until I could figure out where the hell else I was gonna go. It put to shame every fantasy I’d had about what I’d do to him when, or if, he came back. Most of those fantasies ended in violence, but somehow, seeing him drained away every single insult I’d practiced in my head.

  I’d spent years envisioning this day. Now that it had come, it didn’t look anything like I’d expected it to—and trust me, I’d run through a lot of variations.

  It felt like a betrayal to the badass bitch I was supposed to be.

  Oh, Gunner! Thanks so much for showing back up! Let me cry on your shoulder and gush over what a hero you are to feed your enormous ego!

  Fuckin’ morphine. You think drunk dialing is bad, try begging the attending nurse to call half the fire stations in the city in the middle of the night while you’re high as a kite.

  It had worn off considerably since then, and now I was in pain and pissed the hell off. I had a prescription for some Percocet I’d get filled on the way home. I considered taking a cab and standing Gunner up, but the fact remained that I had no place to go… And no money to pay the cab fare...

  I was at the mercy of some douchebag who’d left me high and
dry when I’d needed him the most. Again.

  “That him?” the orderly asked me. He was standing behind my wheelchair, an accessory I really didn’t need but the staff had insisted I use. I squinted as the sun glinted off the windshield of an old Mustang—the kind of car my stepbrother had always wanted.

  “Yup,” I tersely replied. “That’s the guy.”

  Gunner pulled up to the curb in his shiny red classic. He must’ve spent years restoring it, and for some reason, that made me mad. Like, what right did he have to personal fulfillment when he’d run out on me—on our whole family—and thrown me to the big, bad wolf? Fury buzzed inside me as Gunner stepped out to open the door on the passenger side, then reached for my good hand.

  “C’mon, baby. Let’s get you in.”