I looked down at my dress and sighed happily, grateful that he had given me an occasion to wear it. I looked back up to his nervous eyes and smiled, unsure of how I could ever repay him for such a nice gesture.
You could do what Gina was doing to Trey. That’d be a good start.
Mortified by where my thoughts had taken me, a crimson blush rose to my cheeks. The small smile faded from Brandon’s face and he opened his mouth to likely ask what was wrong, but abruptly closed it when a waiter entered the room.
After the interruption, most of our time was spent either with neutral small talk or in silence as we sampled a variety of meals and desserts. By the time Brandon was paying our check, I was totally full and happier than I’d been in a long time.
* * *
On our ride back to the house, I didn’t say a word when Brandon inched slightly closer to me. I was enjoying his company far too much to feel like pushing him away, even though the logical part of my brain was practically demanding it.
“Thanks again for tonight. It was wonderful.”
“You’re welcome. I know it wasn’t prom or anything, but I thought it’d be nice.”
I sat back in the seat and sighed. “I’d be willing to bet that this was a lot more fun than prom.”
There was a thick silence before Brandon broke it. “Did he take Gina?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know. I assumed he would, but he was still calling me earlier so who knows?”
“He was calling you?”
“Yeah, but I turned my phone off. Can we just not talk about him right now? I’d like to enjoy my night.”
Brandon smiled and nodded. “That sounds good.”
We sat in a comfortable silence for a few miles until I felt Brandon’s arm draping over my shoulder. I looked up at him curiously and nearly chuckled at the terrified look on his face.
“Is this okay?” he asked nervously.
Brandon was so painfully nervous around women—myself included—and I couldn’t deny that I found it completely endearing. He was terrified of making the wrong move even though he clearly wanted to go forward. I couldn’t help but feel compelled to help ease his nerves, so I accepted his touch.
“It’s fine,” I assured him, snuggling a little closer to his warm body.
He inhaled and tensed up before he let himself relax on the exhale. His touch became surer and he rested his large palm on my bare shoulder, rubbing gently circles over my skin. Goosebumps started prickling my flesh and I shivered just slightly, then looked up to his face.
He was looking down at me with desire, his eyes pinpointed to my chest. I glanced down and saw my stiff nipples through the thin fabric of my dress and I almost wished I had worn a bra. But ultimately, the heated look on his face was worth the slight bit of embarrassment I felt.
“Vanessa,” he said thickly, swallowing hard and clearing his throat before he finally asked, “Can I kiss you?”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him it would only lead to heartache because nothing could ever really happen between us. I wanted to say I was on the rebound. But for every argument my head made, my heart and my body disagreed.
My lack of response was enough make him move forward, but he kept our faces inches apart. It wouldn’t be our first kiss—we had stolen a number of those over the past few months—but it somehow still felt like it was. I was shaking slightly in my seat as I waited for him to close the distance.
But he didn’t.
Brandon had an endless amount of patience, not to mention respect. He was waiting for my signal, for a sign that he was allowed to continue. The slight buzz from the champagne was nothing compared to how drunk I was just from the intoxication of his proximity.
With that thought in mind, I leaned forward to close the gap between us. I pressed my lips softly to his and moaned when he immediately moved to deepen the kiss, totally at ease with taking charge once my consent was given. His groan of pleasure was like music to my ears and I twisted my body to give him better access.
I parted my lips and softly moaned when I felt his tongue slip past them. We kept on like that for a long moment, until we both had to break apart for air. I watched his dilated pupils as they slid back and forth between my eyes and my heaving chest. But when I leaned forward in hopes that he’d kiss me again, he held up his hand to stop me.
“We’re home,” he said sadly, like he knew that the instant the words left his mouth, the spell would be broken and I would revert back into my usual cold self.
Which was exactly what happened. Guilt twisted in my stomach as I moved away from him, waiting until the car completely stopped moving and for Brandon to get out before I let out a long, shaky breath. He cleared his throat outside and offered me his hand, which I took only for the briefest moment before I let go.
“Brandon—”
I stopped the moment I saw the look in his eyes as they focused on the house. With a frown, I turned towards whatever he was looking at and nearly gasped when I saw Trey sitting on our front porch.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Brandon demanded to know. “I thought you weren’t taking his calls.”
“You were with me the entire evening. I haven’t been taking his calls,” I said dryly. “I don’t know why he’s here, but I’m going to find out.”
Without another word or even a glance in Brandon’s direction, I marched up to the steps. Trey noticed me approaching and stood up, finally revealing just how terrible he looked. He was wearing his suit for the prom, but I’d wager from the looks of it that he never made it there.
“What do you want?” I demanded, trying not to let his obvious sadness lessen my anger. I could feel Brandon’s presence lingering somewhere behind me, but still far enough away to not be crowding me.
I dropped my voice to a low, stern whisper. “Trey, you need to go.”
“Babe, no. Please hear me out,” he begged miserably, running his fingers into his hair and shaking his head back and forth. “Look, maybe my intentions were fucked up at the start, but I really like you, Vanessa. More than I ever expected to.”
He sounded sincere and it was making me incredibly uncomfortable. I was still acutely aware of Brandon a few yards behind me, waiting in silence for me to get rid of Trey.
The reminder of him made my heart hurt. My thoughts went back to the kiss—to all the kisses that we had ever shared even though we knew we shouldn’t—then to painful separation after them and the subsequent yearning for more.
Trey had fucked up and I couldn’t bring myself to trust him, but I also couldn’t allow my heart to get any more involved with Brandon. Doing so would only lead to bad things. I turned my head back and tried to harden my resolve.
“Brandon, can you give us some privacy?”
He looked taken aback and I fought the urge to turn away, this feeling eerily similar to the last time we stood on this lawn and I told him I was ditching him for Trey. He seemed to feel the same way—his eyes torn between betrayal and resignation. It was just so familiar.
“Vanessa, just tell him to go,” he pleaded, more with his eyes than his tone.
I locked down my heart and shook my head, keeping the movement slow so the tears wouldn’t fall.
“Go inside, Brandon.”
For a moment, I thought he was going to argue with me. But he seemed to change his mind, straightening his spine and clenching his jaw tightly before he said, “This is it. I’ll go inside, but you better be right behind me. Otherwise, I’m done. Just... done. With all of this.”
His gesture was around the entire yard, but I knew what he was really referring to was whatever was going on between the two of us. Trey watched with a confused frown as Brandon pushed past him, slamming his shoulder into his and earning a surprised grunt for his effort. My heart screamed for me to follow, but by sheer force of will, I kept my feet glued to the ground.
He twisted the doorknob and pushed it open, waiting for a split second before he turned over his shoulder and regarded m
e with finality.
“Have it your way.”
Brandon stepped inside and slammed the door. I felt like breaking down, somehow instinctively knowing that he wasn’t bluffing. This was is.
Whatever this thing between us was, or whatever it could have been, was over. Completely.
I should have been happy, but I wasn’t. I was only vaguely aware of Trey’s hand patting my back lightly after I covered my face with my hands and cried.
* * *
February 2015
The letter was making a fool out of me. It wasn’t actually doing anything besides lying atop the pile of my other mail, but it was still making me insane.
I was afraid to open it. My fear warred with my desperation but soon enough, I found myself searching through my old desk for the letter opener I knew I kept somewhere. I didn’t want to risk damaging the envelope or whatever was inside by just tearing it open. After going through three drawers, I finally found it and took it back to the table.
I gently worked the flap of the envelope open and felt my breath catch when I saw the folded paper inside. The ink from his pen had bled through just enough to be visible. A hand-written letter. In a daze, I eased the paper out and unfolded it. A piece of paper hidden inside fell to the table, but my eyes were already busy seeking out his name at the bottom of the letter.
The signature was all-too familiar and obviously genuine. This wasn’t a hoax.
Brandon had finally contacted me.
Vanessa,
I’ve thrown away at least six drafts of this letter to you, too uncertain of how to even begin. Should I be greeting you fondly? Would you welcome it if I did? Our last meeting didn’t exactly end on good terms, but I truly hope this letter finds you well. Or at least as well as you can be given the circumstances.
Since I pretty much gave myself away with that last line, I might as well jump right to the point. I’ve been informed that you recently became unemployed. Strangely, I assumed you had been laid off or perhaps even fired only to find out that you quit. Did you not enjoy nursing like you thought you would? I don’t presume to have an answer to that, although I do hope it’s untrue. I’m contacting you because other than just being aware of your unemployment, I’m also aware of your financial distress. I hope that you carefully consider my offer.
I’ll be undergoing a mildly serious surgery soon and it’s been recommended by my surgeon that I have a live-in nurse for the six weeks following it. He assures me that I’ll be well enough to return to my normal schedule after only two, but I’ll need to be monitored for signs of infection, amongst other things. While I do have a doctor I trust to perform the surgery, I don’t have a nurse lined up and I’m not fond of the idea of letting a stranger live in my home.
I wouldn’t ask this of you if the circumstances weren’t so extreme. Believe me—I’d rather ask anyone else. But my options are incredibly limited. I assure you that you’ll be well compensated for the six weeks of your assistance. I’ve already spoken to your landlord and paid the next two months of your rent. That way you know your apartment will be left untouched and ready for your return. Even if you choose not to help me, consider it my thanks for even considering this.
I’ve included a plane ticket with this letter, dated to bring you here three days before my surgery. That way you’ll have a chance to converse with the doctor about what you’ll need to do post-op and a little time to settle in. I’ve also arranged a car to pick you up from the airport.
I suppose that’s really all there is to say. Or at least all I’m willing to say in this form of communication.
~ Brandon Jensen
Chapter 6
March 2015
My birthday came and went, spent in a slightly-drunken daze as I continued to consider Brandon’s offer. Nothing noteworthy had happened since the day I got the letter and now it was only a day away from the date of departure listed on the plane ticket that was currently stuck to the door of my refrigerator with a magnet. A constant reminder of the letter that I had read a million times.
I stood in front of my fridge and stared at the ticket, still mentally debating about taking him up on it. On one hand, my heart was screaming at me to go. My curiosity would never be satisfied if I passed up the opportunity.
On the other hand, my mind kept reminding me of the beginning of his letter and the fact that the last time we spoke, it hadn’t gone well. Years had passed, but I could still recall just how unpleasant it had been.
I wandered into my bedroom and spared a glance to my open suitcase, half-packed and practically begging me to finish. I sighed and went to my closet, digging deep into the back until I reached the emerald green dress Brandon insisted on buying for me so many years ago.
As I ran my fingertips against the soft material, I idly wondered if it still fit. I hadn’t so much as looked at the dress in years, too much of a reminder of both the pleasant memories we shared as well as the painful ones. But I could never bring myself to get rid of it either. It just felt too... important.
I pulled the hanger off the bar and slid the dress off, quickly shedding my pajamas and stepping into it. I pulled it up and closed my eyes as I reached behind me and attempted to pull up the zipper.
A mere moment later, I let out a happy sigh.
It still fits.
I opened my eyes and wandered over to my mirror, smiling when I realized that it looked even better now than it had before. I hadn’t grown much since I was eighteen, but time had morphed my body from that of a teenager to a fully-grown adult woman. The difference usually bugged me—nobody liked the idea of aging—but looking at my reflection now... I felt beautiful. Timeless.
It was then that I realized I couldn’t pass up this chance. We had parted on awful terms and if I didn’t take the leap and at least attempt to fix things between us, it was going to eat at me for the rest of my life.
Once upon a time, Brandon had been one of the most important people in my life. I couldn’t deny the fact that I wanted that closeness back.
With a sense of renewed determination, I slipped off the dress and back into my pajamas, taking special care to place the gown into my suitcase before I went back to my closet to finish packing.
* * *
As soon as the announcement that the flight was about to begin boarding echoed over the intercom, I hopped out of my seat and wandered over to wait near the area to line up. Brandon had purchased a first class ticket for me, so I knew I’d be among the first group to get on the plane.
Which I really needed to do. Like, immediately. The desire to turn tail and run was strong and I wanted to forcefully strap myself into the seat before my panicking hit an all-time high.
Only a few short minutes later and I was relaxing back into the window seat, taking a long, deep breath as I tried to slow my wildly beating heart.
No turning back now, I thought as I glanced up and eyed the long string of people boarding the plane.
I closed my eyes and willed myself to calm down with the reminder that once we were in the air, I’d have the chance to pester a flight attendant for some liquid courage. I just needed to make it until then and I’d be good to go.
Yeah, good choice. Turn to alcohol again. Because it’s done you so much good thus far.
I softly growled at my internal voice, then felt the weight of a stare on my face and smiled sheepishly at the older man sharing the aisle with me. He gave me a quizzical glance before turning back to his newspaper and I let out a long sigh.
Even though I logically knew it was probably only half an hour until liftoff then four hours in the air until we reached St. Thomas Island, it still felt like it was going to take a lifetime.
“Miss?”
“Hmm?” I hummed, turning to the gentleman on my right.
His brow creased to a frown and he asked, “Are you all right?”
“Y-Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You’re looking mighty pale,” he commented before folding his newspaper and
angling his body to get a better look at me. “Not much of a flyer, eh?”
I quickly realized that it probably appeared that way and I gave the man a kind smile for his concern. “No, it’s not that. It’s more about who I’m going to see than the actual flying itself.”
He chuckled knowingly and smiled. “I’m sure whoever this person is will be pleased to see a young lady as pretty as yourself.”
His words were spoken kindly, almost in a paternal sort of way, and for some reason that just made it all the more difficult for me to shake off. I covered my face in my hands and shook my head, mumbling against my palms.
“We didn’t exactly part on good terms. I highly doubt he’ll be happy to see me.”
“A lost love, then?”
I uncovered my face and flattened my lips into a thin line, nodding absently as I relived our last meeting.
“You could say that.”
* * *
December 2008
“Hurry up, honey! We’re going to be late!”
“Just a minute!” I called to my mom, grumbling under my breath as I hastily finished swiping on my lipstick in the mirror of my childhood bedroom.
Once I was satisfied with my appearance, I blew a kiss at my reflection before I rushed to the door and grabbed my winter coat.
I made it down the stairs and my mom’s irritated glare softened when she took in my appearance. Harold opened the door and gestured for us to walk out first and I smiled at them both as I slipped past and strutted down the sidewalk towards the waiting limousine.
“It was so nice of Brandon to send a limousine for us. Wasn’t it, dear?”
I suppressed an eye roll as my mom fished for me to say something nice about Brandon, still refusing to acknowledge the fact that we no longer spoke. I was certain I had dropped enough hints to her about it during my breaks from college, but I think she had chosen to remain blissfully ignorant.
Wrecked: A Stepbrother Romance Novel Page 4