Winning the Right Brother

by Abigail Strom

  “The fire department,” Holly said. “We’ve got to call the fire department.” Even as the words came out of her mouth they heard sirens in the distance, coming closer.

  “I think someone already called them,” Will said. He sounded dazed, and Holly struggled to her feet.

  “I want you to go next door to Mrs. Hanneman’s,” she said. “I’ll stay and meet the firemen. I want to make sure they know we both got out, so they don’t send anyone in there.”

  “All right, Mom,” Will said, sounding obedient, like a little boy, and Holly’s heart beat painfully as she watched him walk across the lawn to the neighbor’s house.

  Mrs. Hanneman was already outside, standing on her porch in a long flannel nightgown, staring at the Stanton home in obvious horror. She went running down the steps when she saw Will coming toward her and threw her arms around him.

  Holly walked slowly away from the burning house, toward the street, noticing when she got there that several of the neighbors were in their front yards or on their porches, watching the disaster unfold in their midst with their hands pressed to their mouths, frozen with shock.

  The first fire truck came screaming to a stop in front of the house. Holly forced her legs to move faster, to meet the firemen who came pouring out onto the sidewalk. “There’s no one inside,” she shouted to the first one she came to.

  He looked down at her. “Is it your house, ma’am?” he asked loudly, over the roar of the fire and the wailing of the sirens.

  “Yes. It’s just me and my son, and we both got out safely. We don’t have any pets. Please don’t send any of your men in there!”

  The fireman nodded. “Make sure you stay clear, ma’am. When the paramedics come, you and your son should both be checked out, just in case.”

  “Okay,” she said faintly, but the fireman, faceless in his uniform, was already gone, running to help with the heavy hose.

  I should go check on Will, Holly thought, her mind working in slow motion and her body numb. She started to walk but she couldn’t feel her legs. The horrible sounds all around her—the greedy flames, the screaming sirens, the shouts of the firemen—seemed to recede.

  There had been beautiful glass in her grandmother’s home. The stained glass above the front door, the chandelier in the dining room, the diamond-shaped panes in the bathroom windows upstairs. Holly walked past Mrs. Hanneman’s without stopping, making a wide circuit around the neighbor’s house until she reached the big backyard.

  It was oddly private back there. No horrified neighbors, no firemen. Holly stood watching the blaze, blinking, and then suddenly her legs gave way and she was crouching on the ground, retching, her whole body racked with the force of her dry heaves.

  Alex couldn’t sleep. He’d called Rich to apologize about the night before, and to make his feelings known on the subject of his ever going out with Holly, but the sportscaster just laughed.

  “Are you kidding? As soon as you tossed her over your shoulder I knew she was off the market. I bet you’ve never done anything like that in your life. You’ve got it bad, huh? I guess she’s the reason you haven’t been in Cincinnati much lately.”

  Alex frowned at the phone. “Holly and I are not a couple. I just don’t want you going after her. She’s not like the girls you usually pick up. She’s…different.”

  “Sure she’s different. Because you’ve got a thing for her.”

  “I don’t have a thing for her.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, it was nice knowing you, buddy. Invite me to the wedding, okay? I always get lucky with bridesmaids.”

  A few hours later Alex lay in bed, restless and edgy, as far from sleep as he’d ever been in his life. Finally he gave up the fight and turned on his bedside lamp, reaching for his current issue of Sports Illustrated. He hadn’t read more than a paragraph when the phone rang. He grabbed the receiver off the cradle.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Coach! It’s Tom Washington.”

  Alex glanced at the clock in surprise. “It’s almost midnight, Tom. What’s going on?”

  “It’s about Will,” he said, and Alex tensed. “His house, actually. You know my dad’s a fireman, right? He just got called out to a fire—at the Stantons. A bad one.”

  A chill ran through Alex’s body. “Do you know if they’re okay?”

  “I don’t know anything yet except that it’s bad. Coach, can you pick me up and take me over there? My mom’s working the night shift at the hospital and I—”

  “I’ll be there in five minutes. Wait for me out front.”

  Alex threw on some clothes and cursed viciously as he tried to tie his sneakers with shaking hands. He fought to stay calm as he drove to Tom’s, knowing that it wouldn’t help Holly any if he wrapped himself around a tree.

  Tom was waiting at the curb, and he jumped into the car and slammed the door almost before it came to a stop. Alex saw he was holding a small transistor radio and figured it was tuned to the fire department’s band. “Any news?” he asked as he pulled away and headed for Holly’s house.

  Tom shook his head. “Just that one guy said it was the worst fire he’d seen in five years.”

  Alex felt cold. “Anything about the Stantons? If they got out safely?”

  Tom shrugged helplessly. “I’m not sure. I can’t always follow what they’re saying. I think someone said there wasn’t anyone inside the house….”

  They turned down Maple Avenue, and both of them gasped. The rising flames, the smoke, the flashing lights and wailing sirens, the people—

  There was an ambulance there, too. Alex parked across the street and he and Tom ran over to the paramedic leaning against his vehicle.

  “Anyone hurt?” Alex demanded, his voice sharp with fear.

  The paramedic shook his head. “They both got out. A mother and a son. No burns or serious injuries. I’ve already seen the boy and he’s fine. I’m still waiting for the mother, just to check her over, and to make sure all the men are okay.” He glanced at the raging inferno that had once been a home. “It’s a bad one, all right. But no one was hurt.”

  Alex closed his eyes. “Thank God,” he breathed. He opened his eyes. “Where are they?”

  “The boy’s over there,” the paramedic said, pointing toward the house next door, where Tom and Alex could see Will on the front porch, leaning against the railing and watching the fire. An elderly woman stood next to him with her hand on his shoulder. Tom took off at a run while Alex turned back to the paramedic.

  “And Holly? The boy’s mother?”

  “She’s definitely okay—she talked to one of the firemen when they first got here. I’m not sure where she is now. Maybe with another one of the neighbors.”

  Alex scanned the street and didn’t see her anywhere. He tried to think clearly. If she wasn’t with Will, she wouldn’t be with a neighbor. If she wasn’t with Will it meant she didn’t want to be with anybody. Where was she? Off by herself, watching her home go up in smoke? She was in shock, emotional if not physical. He had to find her.

  On a hunch he headed for the backyard, passing close enough to the house that he could feel the heat from the crackling flames.

  Alex quickened his pace. Thank God, there she was. She was wearing a long white nightgown and was down on her hands and knees, retching. In an instant Alex was at her side, holding back her hair, although she didn’t seem to be throwing anything up. After a minute the terrible convulsions eased and Holly rocked back on her heels, shuddering. Alex knelt down beside her and checked for injuries.

  “You’re bleeding,” he said, his voice shaking. He used his sleeve to wipe the blood from her face. “It’s just a scratch,” he said, weak with relief. “This one, too.” He cradled her forearm as he gently cleaned away the blood. “We need to get some antiseptic on these,” he said. Holly didn’t respond, and Alex wasn’t sure she’d heard him. He wasn’t sure she knew he was there. Her eyes were wide and dark as she stared over his shoulder at her house, her face lit by the garish light
of the flames.

  “Holly,” he said softly, trying to reach her. “Holly,” he said again, cupping her face in his hands and moving so he was blocking her vision, blocking the sight of the fire. Her frozen stare finally wavered, but she still didn’t see him.

  “My fault,” she said, so softly that Alex almost missed it.

  “What do you mean?” he asked gently, stroking the hair away from her soot-streaked face.

  “This is my fault. Will noticed something in the kitchen, a smell that worried him. I told him I would check it out. I didn’t. I had a hangover, and I forgot. It must have been the wiring in the kitchen. I’m the mom, it’s my job to—oh, God, I’m the mom—what a joke, what a damned joke—”

  She started to shake, and Alex pulled her into a rough hug. “This is not your fault, Holly.” Her face was buried against his shoulder, and for just a moment the tension holding her body rigid eased a little. But then she jerked upright, pushing him away from her.

  “It is my fault,” she said harshly. “I got drunk last night and I was hungover today and I didn’t pay any attention to what Will was saying. He could have died in that fire because of me. Because I was careless and irresponsible. I don’t get to make mistakes, Alex. I’m the only parent Will has. Of course it’s my fault.”

  Alex gripped her shoulders. “Stop it, Holly. Stop blaming yourself.”

  “My mattress,” she said, staring toward the house again. Alex glanced back over his shoulder and saw that the firemen had managed to contain the blaze. No sign of a mattress, though.

  “What are you talking about, Holly?”

  “It’s brand-new. I just bought it. Oh, God, my mattress!” She struggled to her feet and watched the firemen douse the last of the flames, leaving a blackened, smoking ruin. “There’s nothing left. It’s all gone. Everything that belonged to my grandmother. All the beautiful things she made.”

  Her voice sounded numb, dazed, and Alex wanted so much to help her it was like an ache in his gut.

  “Will’s baby pictures. All our photo albums. All our—”

  Alex listened helplessly as she recited the litany of loss in a dead voice. “I know it’s terrible,” he said, wincing at the inadequacy of his words. “But you and Will are safe, Holly. Try to focus on that. That’s all that really matters.”

  Holly turned to look at him, and for the first time since he’d found her behind the house Alex felt like she was actually seeing him.

  “Safe,” she repeated. “Safe.” She backed away a couple of steps and gave a bitter laugh. “Sure, right, we’re safe.” She stood still for a moment, her eyes on him with something unreadable in their depths. When she spoke again her voice was cold and remote. “You must really be enjoying this, Alex.”

  His head snapped back as if she’d punched him in the face.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. This must be your idea of heaven.”

  He stared at her. “How can you say that? How could you even think it? You think I enjoy seeing you—”

  “Vulnerable? Yes, I do.” A spark of anger flared up in her eyes, and Alex told himself that any emotion was better than the empty, terrible numbness he’d seen in her a moment ago.

  “You always show up when life hits me in the face, don’t you? It’s your favorite sideshow. I’m stuck-up and condescending and holier-than-thou, right? Just ripe for a fall. And you love it when that happens, when I get knocked down. Or knocked up, as the case may be.”

  Alex looked at her warily. “Holly, you’re not making sense right now. You’re in shock. It’s good to let out the pain you’re feeling, but—”

  “All through high school you wanted me to screw up, to make a mistake, to stop being ‘Little Miss Perfect’ or whatever else you called me. Not to mention you spent two years telling me what a jerk Brian was. You couldn’t wait to say I told you so. And then you hit the jackpot. You found out I was pregnant and you came straight to my house to rub my face in it.”

  Alex’s jaw tightened as he remembered that night. His stammered, eager proposal and her scornful rejection. “I asked you to marry me, Holly.”

  Holly laughed bitterly, turning her eyes away. “Right, of course. What better way to point out the fact that I was going to be an unwed mother?”

  Alex strode forward and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders.

  “Holly, I asked you to marry me because I wanted to take care of you and the baby you were going to have. I wanted to kill Brian for turning his back on you—and when I thought about how scared you must be—”

  “You didn’t want to miss it, right? You wanted a front row seat.”

  “Stop saying that! I wanted to help you. You didn’t want my help. You’re so damn stubborn, so determined to be independent at all costs, sitting up on that pedestal where you don’t need anything from anyone—”

  “And you’d like nothing better than to knock me off that pedestal. Right?” She cocked her head to the side and tilted her chin up, as if presenting an easy target. “So take your best shot.”

  He stared at her. With her breath coming hard and fast and her fists clenched at her sides, she definitely looked like a woman on the edge. “Listen to me, Holly. You’re in shock right now with everything that happened tonight, and I know this isn’t about me. But you have to believe I can’t stand seeing you in pain. You want the truth? It’s just about killing me. Even back in high school I never wanted to hurt you. Not really.”

  “Is that right?” Holly said softly. Her face was in the shadows, but by some trick of the light her eyes were glittering like a cat’s. “You never wanted to hurt me. Well, that’s interesting. Because you did.” Her voice was trembling and she took a breath. “You’ve always hurt me, Alex. But now I’m going to hurt you.”

  He saw the punch coming before she threw it. He saw it coming, and he didn’t even try to defend himself.

  “Mmff,” he said as she connected with his jaw.

  His plan was just to absorb the punishment until Holly had burned off whatever steam she needed to. What the hell, he thought with grim humor, if this was what she needed right now at least he could give it to her. He’d never been able to give her anything else.

  But after that one wild swing, Holly stared at him in horror. Her hand went to her mouth. “Alex,” she said, her voice breaking. “Oh, God, Alex, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Holly,” he said quickly.

  “Alex, I—”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t feel guilty about this on top of everything else. “You’ve had a rough night and you were burning off some steam. I’ve already forgotten all about it. Or at least I will when the feeling comes back to my face.”

  “No,” Holly said with sudden determination. “You have to let me apologize. Not just for punching you, although that was bad, but for the things I said…the horrible things I said.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes and Alex couldn’t stand it. He did what he’d been wanting to do since he’d first found her tonight. He gathered her into his arms, holding her tight, murmuring something wordless and soothing into her hair.

  He was amazed at how perfectly they fit together. He found himself wishing he could protect her like this forever, shielding her from the world with his body, so that nothing would ever hurt her again.

  And this time she relaxed into him.

  “Why do we do it?” she was asking, her voice muffled against his chest but still audible. She pulled her head back slightly, enough so she could look up at him. Her face was streaked with dirt and blood and tears, and her hair smelled like smoke, and she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “Why are we so awful to each other? Because it’s not just me, you know,” she went on, with a little of her old spirit. “I mean, I definitely get the prize tonight, but you can usually hold your own. Why do we do it? Are we really so immature that we can’t let go of feelings we had when we were teenagers?”

  She started to brush away
her tears with the back of her hand, but Alex stopped her. He used his sleeve instead, wiping her face gently, and when he was done Holly’s arms tightened around him and she rested her cheek against his chest.

  Alex was suddenly and uncomfortably aware that he wasn’t just a human being offering comfort to someone in pain, but also a man holding a woman he was wildly attracted to. His heart was hammering, and it would have been so easy to let his comforting caresses become something more. To crush her mouth to his and kiss her until she couldn’t think straight, until passion drowned out her pain, even if it was only for a moment.

  Except that Holly didn’t feel what he felt. And even if she did, he couldn’t imagine a more inappropriate moment to give in to his attraction.

  He pulled back from her a little under the guise of carrying on a conversation.

  “I don’t know why we do it,” he said, tipping her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “But it doesn’t matter. We can change all that starting now. We’d better, because you and Will are coming to my house tonight. And you’ll be staying with me for as long as you need.”

  His vocal cords were obviously leading their own life, because his brain was shouting noooooo even as he made the offer.

  Not because it would be any big inconvenience. Giving up his privacy would be a little tough, but he could handle it. And he really wouldn’t mind having Will around. Hell, he’d enjoy it.

  But invite Holly to live under the same roof with him? The woman who fired his blood and starred in his fantasies and who, right this moment, looked like an extra from a disaster movie and could still inspire lustful thoughts? Most importantly, the woman who wouldn’t feel the same way about him if he was the last man on earth?

  He had to be out of his mind.

  He had to be out of his mind. Holly blinked up at him, wondering if he was serious. Maybe the easiest way to find out was to ask.

  “Are you serious?”