Wrecked: A Stepbrother Romance Novel

by Arabella Abbing

  After all, Brandon and I had gotten along well for years. It was probably sad for her to consider the fact that we were no longer friends.

  Whose fault is that?

  I slid onto the leather seat and tried my best not to think about the last time I was in a limo while also trying to forget where we were heading.

  It was easy enough to avoid Brandon after high school was over. He moved out and started his company and I left home to go to college. I was pretty sure he knew my schedule and purposely planned his visits home around mine, but unfortunately, neither of us could find a way out of this function.

  Our parents had insisted on having the family together this Christmas even though Brandon had begged off, insisting he had to work. But even he couldn’t argue his way out of the night that our parents wanted to gather up their closest friends and family to renew their vows.

  It’d been over three years since I’d seen his face in person. Even longer since we’d spoken.

  He really had kept his word on being done with me after prom night.

  I twisted my hands together nervously as I tried to ignore the sting that was still fresh after all these years.

  * * *

  The ceremony was painful.

  It should have been a beautiful and happy event, but all I could do was keep glancing in Brandon’s direction and trying to catch his eye.

  In four years, he had evolved from a cute but nerdy teenager to an absolutely gorgeous hunk of a man.

  Fuck my life. Why couldn’t he have gotten fat or something?

  He’d stood next to his father as his best man and pointedly avoided my gaze. His handsome face had remained stoic during the entire ceremony, right up until the very end when his father had patted him on the shoulder. He gave our parents a genuine smile, then disappeared after they walked down the aisle together.

  Thankfully, their renewal ceremony was far more casual than an actual wedding, so I took the opportunity to follow Brandon’s lead and also disappeared. Since they had asked my aunt to host the party, I thankfully knew this house almost as well as my own.

  Within five minutes, I was popping open a bottle of red in the wine cellar and bringing the bottle straight to my lips.

  Sweet, sweet alcohol. Make me forget.

  After half an hour of wallowing in my misery in the chilly basement, I finally made my way back to the party, careful as to not wobble on my high heels. I wasn’t exactly drunk, but the wine had definitely made itself known in my otherwise empty stomach.

  I congratulated my mom and Harold and gave them both a hug before stepping back and allowing them to be surrounded by our friends and relatives once again. I scanned the room quickly, noting that Brandon was still hiding elsewhere for the time being, so I slowly made my way over to the bar while I still had a chance.

  Just the reminder that he was here made me want to drink until the night blurred into blackness.

  “What’ll you have?”

  “Gin and tonic.”

  The man my aunt hired to tend the bar started to make my drink and I suddenly felt a chill run up my spine that I knew had nothing to do with the cold winter air outside.

  Brandon had obviously made his way back into the crowded room and I could feel his stare on the back of my head. I forced a smile as I accepted my drink and purposely walked away, refusing to glance back and see if my assumption was correct.

  The hallway leading down to the wine cellar was empty, but the soft squeak of men’s dress shoes behind me was confirmation enough. I forced myself not to look back and just kept walking until I rounded the corner and broke into as much of a jog as I could in these damn heels.

  The footsteps picked up and before I could pull open the door to the cellar, a warm hand was spinning me around and pinning my wrist to the door.

  I dared a look up into his eyes, unable to tear my gaze away once it locked with his. There was nothing pleasant about the way he stared down at me—a scowl marring his handsome face and anger simmering behind those damn blue eyes of his.

  “Were you planning to avoid me all night?”

  His question broke whatever trance I’d been in and I jerked my wrist hard, trying to pull away from his grip. “Me? You wouldn’t even look at me during the ceremony.”

  Fucking hell, he got strong.

  When I tried to use my other hand to pry his fingers from my wrist, he used his free hand to pin my other wrist against the door as well, then pressed his newly-muscle torso against me, immediately stilling my struggles.

  “I’m looking at you now.”

  “I have no idea why. You’re clearly finished with me.”

  Brandon laughed—a hollow, humorless sound that struck a nerve somewhere deep inside that I was afraid to address. The smile didn’t touch his eyes and faded away as he slowly shook his head back and forth.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I didn’t give you multiple chances.”

  I rolled my eyes and pushed my chest against him, some small part of me enjoying the way he sharply inhaled and pulled away, even if it was only a few inches. He was staring at me incredulously when I decided to push him even further.

  I lifted a leg and hitched it around his hip, pulling his pelvis flush against mine. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt the heavy weight of his hardness pressed against me, but it was the first time that I felt no traces of awkwardness from being in this position.

  Brandon leaned forward, his mouth parted and eyes closed as he let out a shaky breath. Before I could comprehend what was happening, our lips were mashed together, tongues tangling in a duel more heated than ever before. It took every ounce of self-control not to push him away and rip off his dress pants, but there was still a logical—not to mention sober—part of my brain that told me to stop.

  When I pulled back, his eyes opened, looking more shocked than I expected. I grinned at him triumphantly and said, “How about one more?”

  His nostrils flared as the anger started to return. “No. You don’t want me. You don’t give a fuck about me. You only want me now because I look… different.”

  My eyebrows raised in surprise at the accusation. “I’m not going to argue about you looking different, but you’re wrong about the rest.” A sly smile appeared on my lips and I leaned closer to him. “How about I show you just how much I want you?”

  Brandon jerked away like he’d been burned, glaring at me so hatefully that I felt like I was getting whiplash from his abrupt mood swings. I frowned and raised my hands in the air, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on while he scrubbed a hand over his face.

  “I’m not doing this with you. I… I’m seeing someone. I don’t know why I even followed you. God—I’m such a fucking idiot,” he ended with a whisper, speaking more to himself than to me.

  “Brandon...”

  He held up a finger, looking at me sharply. “Don’t. Don’t do this to me again.”

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t fuck around with my head!” he yelled, then had the presence of mind to glance around and make sure no bystanders were catching the show. He gestured behind me and I hesitantly opened the door, leading him down the stairs of the wine cellar to continue our conversation privately.

  “Look, I’m not trying to fuck with your head,” I said as soon as I got downstairs, spinning around and pointing directly at him. “You damn well knew nothing could happen between us and you pushed me anyways! What did you think was going to happen?”

  “I thought that eventually you’d see how ridiculous you were being!” he fired back angrily, stepping forward into my personal space and lowering his voice as he continued, “We aren’t family, Vanessa. Our parents may have gotten married, but we were teenagers. They knew we weren’t going to ever feel like real siblings. There’s no reason why—”

  “Maybe not to you,” I interrupted him, shaking my head back and forth in hopes that he wouldn’t continue. “Look, I get why you feel that way. But I see it differently. It just… wouldn’t
work between us.”

  “Like hell. I’m no more of a brother to you than you are a sister to me. The only reason you pushed me away was because you seem to think that you don’t deserve me.”

  With the knee-jerk way I flinched from the words, he might as well have slapped me. It wasn’t so much the words themselves that cut so deeply—even though they were true—it was the defeated resignation in his voice as he said them. Like he had managed to figure it out long ago and was disappointed that I still hadn’t. Or maybe he was just disappointed that I hadn’t owned up to it.

  Either way, I hardened my gaze and shook my head firmly.

  “That’s not—”

  “True?” he finished for me with a tight smile and a humorless laugh. He let out a sigh before he turned around, his hand lingering on the doorknob, ready to flee. “No, no, of course not. How could that possibly be true when you were so far out of my league? I never stood a chance with a girl like you.”

  “Brandon, stop. That’s bullshit and—”

  He continued on, ignoring my outburst and cutting me off again. “And now? Now it looks like the tables have turned. Maybe I’m the one who is finally out of your league and you…. You’re just a lush with even lower self-worth than before.”

  My jaw dropped, unable to comprehend the fact that out of everyone I knew, it was Brandon who was insulting me this way. He glanced back just long enough for me to recognize the way his eyes twitched with the pain of regret, but it was already too late to take it back.

  Not that he intended to. After all, it was true.

  Brandon carefully placed the mask of indifference back on and turned to look me directly in the eye as he said, “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  If he hadn’t cut me out of his life in the first place, none of this heartbreaking conversation would even be happening.

  “It doesn’t matter. Maybe it was better this way. Because I’m completely done with you.”

  I moved to cross my arms over my chest, but somehow wound up wrapping them around my waist, hugging myself for comfort as I tried to will away the tears that were clouding my vision.

  “That’s fine because I never want to see you again,” I whispered, giving myself a silent pat on the back for keeping my voice relatively steady.

  “Good. Then for once, we’re on the exact same page.”

  He twisted the knob and started up the stairs, not bothering to turn back and look at me as he said, “Good-bye Vanessa.”

  And just like that, I watched as my own ridiculous actions caused Brandon to walk out of my life for a second time.

  * * *

  March 2015

  “Attention passengers. Please make sure your trays are in the upright position and your seatbelts are securely fastened as we begin our descent to St. Thomas Island. If your flight is a connection…”

  The voice of the flight attendant drowned out as panic began rushing through my system like wildfire. Logically, I knew I still had a car ride until I was face-to-face with him, but the reality that I was actually going through with this was enough to make me internally freak the fuck out.

  “Would you like a paper bag, dear?”

  I chuckled nervously, turning to the polite gentleman next to me and shaking my head.

  “No, thanks. I’m fine. I just… need to calm down.”

  He hesitated, but eventually placed a hand on my elbow and patted it twice, a gesture that was as comforting as intended.

  “Just relax. Everyone makes mistakes and if your lost love isn’t man enough to forgive you, he ain’t worth your time or your tears.”

  I hadn’t even realized that tears were starting to form in my eyes until he pointed it out and I hastily wiped them away, nodding at his words and quietly thanking him for being so kind. My stomach lurched as the plane dipped further forward and I leaned back in my seat, struggling to even out my breathing as I prepared myself for the possibility of either a smooth landing… or a painful, fiery crash.

  Chapter 7

  March 2015

  I was in a daze when I finally stepped off the plane and made my way into the airport. I numbly followed the signs to the baggage pickup and waited patiently nearby until I spotted my suitcase. Afterwards, I took a deep breath and followed the group of people all heading towards the exit.

  My eyes scanned the crowd of people waiting at arrivals until they finally landed on a well-dressed, stoic man holding a sign with my last name on it. I approached him warily, watching his face for any sign of recognition.

  “Uhh… Hi there.”

  His eyes quickly looked me up and down, one eyebrow cocked high with what may have been surprise. I couldn’t be entirely sure though, considering the blank look on the rest of his face.

  “You are Miss Jensen?”

  “Yep, that’s me,” I confirmed with a nervous chuckle. “Is Brandon here?”

  “Mr. Jensen is waiting for your arrival at his home. Come with me.”

  The sign was swiftly tucked under one arm while the other reached for the handle on my luggage, dragging it away before I even fully comprehended what was happening. I moved fast to keep up with him, trying not to let myself be distracted with looking around as we stepped outside the airport and into the warm air of the Virgin Islands.

  Guess I look pretty ridiculous in this coat, I thought with a frown, glancing down critically at the outfit I left New York in. I looked up when I heard the chirp of a car alarm. With a polite smile to the driver, I slid into the back of the black sedan and waited.

  After my bag was secured in the trunk and the driver was behind the wheel, we were on our way. I fidgeted in my seat, looking around at everything we passed and trying not to think about who I was going to see. It worked like a charm for a good while, until I felt the car slowing to a stop and the engine switched off.

  “What’s going on?” I asked with a frown, gazing out the tinted windows at the dock we were parked beside.

  “Mr. Jensen resides on a small island just off the coast,” he explained before getting out of the car and leaving me alone. The door abruptly opened and I startled a little, clutching at my racing heart before I stepped out and followed him to the trunk.

  He nodded his head towards the dock, dragging my wheeled bag behind him as he said, “This boat will take you there. If you are prone to sea-sickness, try not to worry. It’s a very short ride.”

  I nodded, spotting the boat then looking past at the scattered islands just barely visible in the distance. “Which one?”

  He stopped walking for a moment, scanning the horizon for a brief moment before pointing. “That one.”

  I wasn’t even sure why I asked because from our position, all the islands looked identical. But a strange feeling occurred when I considered the fact that this bit of ocean was all that separated me from Brandon.

  He was right there. Maybe he was staring out into the distance at that same moment, wondering if I’d taken him up on his offer or not. Just… waiting. For me.

  “Miss Jensen?”

  The driver’s irritated tone pulled me out of my thoughts and I felt a bit of heat rise to my cheeks before I cleared my throat and followed him up the dock. He traded a few words with the man standing beside the boat and when the stranger gave me a kind smile, I returned it with ease. With nothing more than a parting nod, the driver strolled back down the deck and left me without any other option than to woman up and get on the damn boat.

  “It should only take us fifteen minutes, Miss,” the man explained as he reached for my hand, assisting me in stepping down before he hopped up and carried my luggage down with ease. “My name is Hunter.”

  “Vanessa. It’s nice to meet you.”

  He smiled brightly and gestured to the small bench, eyebrows raised expectantly. I took my bag and rolled it over, plopping down and holding onto the handle to keep it from rolling while he prepared to set sail.

  While Hunter seemed far more plea
sant than the driver, he was unfortunately too focused on his work to engage in small talk. Which was fine right up until the point that the boat started moving and my frazzled emotions took a sharp turn to dread.

  Of course, it didn’t come close to comparing to the dread I felt five years ago when I first got the news of his disappearance.

  * * *

  March 2010

  Cell phones are pure evil.

  The thought was accompanied by a long, irritated groan as I rolled over and blindly reached for the source of the noise. I pulled it from the charger and swiped, not even bothering to remove my sleep mask to see who was calling before I pressed it to my ear.

  “What?”

  “Vanessa, get up. Brandon’s missing.”

  The note of alarm in my mother’s voice registered before her words did. I bolted upright in bed, gripping the mask and throwing it off, then taking a brief moment to clear my throat before responding.

  “Wait, wait. Say that again?”

  “Brandon. Is. Missing,” she said, putting a hard edge on every word. “Harold can’t get up with him.”

  Not hearing from Brandon was nothing unusual to me, but my mom’s panic seemed to be contagious. I swung my legs out of bed and swiftly started looking for a pair of pants.

  “Was he supposed to call or something?”

  “He calls us every Sunday, even if it’s just to say that he can’t talk,” she told me, pausing for a moment before she whispered, “He missed an important meeting last week and he hasn’t been into the office since last Thursday.”

  That was when the severity finally sank in.

  Brandon missing a phone call because he was busy was understandable.

  Brandon missing work was unheard of.

  “Where are you?”

  “We just got into the city maybe an hour ago. We’re at the police stations now—Harold’s filing a missing persons report.”

  Her voice choked up at the end and even though I already felt like someone had punched me in the gut, the intensity doubled at the sound.