Wrecked: A Stepbrother Romance Novel

by Arabella Abbing

  Even though I doubted he could see my stance in the dark, it still made me feel a little better. More prepared for whatever was coming.

  Brandon sighed heavily. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just… this isn’t easy for me. Having you here.”

  Before I could even think to stop it, I snorted. “And you think it’s easy for me? I just decided yesterday to actually go through with this.”

  There was a long pause where the only thing I heard was my own slightly labored breathing. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was soft.

  “I honestly didn’t think you’d show up. I think that’s the biggest reason why I’m having such a difficult time with it.”

  I shrugged despite the fact that he couldn’t see it. “I wanted to see you. But I wasn’t under the illusion that it was going to be all happy smiles and rainbows. I just wasn’t expecting such hostility from you of all people.”

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, the sincerity evident in his tone. “I’m… I’m not really used to interacting with people anymore. Especially not…”

  “Me?”

  “Women. I never got used to interacting with women in general.”

  I scoffed. “I find that hard to believe. I mean, I remember how it was in high school, but don’t forget that I saw you when mom and Harold renewed their vows. You were probably beating them away with sticks.”

  Brandon laughed, but the sound was forced—hollow. Done purposely for my benefit. I frowned as I considered what it could mean, but the thought was interrupted when he spoke again.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Well, what about your girlfriend? The one you mentioned last time we saw each other?”

  Even without seeing him, I could still sense the tension that rose in the room, making his voice strained.

  “That hardly counts.”

  “Why not?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said curtly and the sound of his footsteps moving towards the door told me this conversation was over. “I’ll see you at breakfast. Sleep well.”

  “Good night, Brandon.”

  I wanted to push him more, but figured it really wasn’t my place to do so. I imagined it must have been a rough break-up if he was so unwilling to talk about it, but hopefully he would open up more to me later. After we at least partially repaired the incredible rift between us.

  As the last of the light from the hallway drained out of the bedroom, so did the last of my energy. I fell asleep before I could even finish replaying the conversation in my head.

  * * *

  “Good morning!” I cheerily called when I found Brandon in the kitchen the next morning.

  He turned towards me briefly, the scarred cheek cleverly tilted away as he nodded in acknowledgement. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was a start. I waited and watched as he fiddled with the coffeepot, tense with uncertainty as he struggled to come up with something to say.

  “How did you sleep?”

  “Like a baby,” I said with a sigh, taking his question as an invitation to move further into the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee by his side. “That is seriously the most comfortable bed I have ever slept in. Not gonna lie—It was really hard to get up.”

  I purposely ignored the way he tensed when I got close, doing everything in my power not to let my frustration show. I knew it was going to take time for him to get used to me again, just like it was going to take time for myself to become used to the new Brandon.

  The strangest part thus far was just how quickly I was getting comfortable with him again. The worst of it was when I got a direct look at his newly-scarred face.

  Well, new to me anyways.

  “So what’s on the agenda for today?”

  Brandon grunted as he dumped a spoonful of sugar into his cup, then one in mine. “The doctor who is performing the surgery will be stopping by around lunch time to answer any questions we may have. Beyond that, you’re free to do whatever you’d like.”

  I frowned at his back when he turned away and marched towards the table where his toast and newspaper were waiting. For a brief moment, I considered taking advantage of the gorgeous weather here and hitting the beach, but the idea left a bad taste in my mouth.

  “Are you free today?” I asked, forcing my voice to remain nonchalant.

  He froze, looking up from the paper at me with surprise. “I… I have some work to do this morning, but I’ll be free afterwards.”

  “Want to hang out? You can show me around or we can watch movies or something.”

  I could tell just by his furrowed brow that he wasn’t sure why I wanted to be around him and I braced myself for rejection. But whether he was simply too curious to pass up the opportunity or he couldn’t think of a valid excuse to say no, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

  “That sounds fine.”

  When I beamed at him, the corners of his mouth twitched in response and my stomach flipped at the sight. The warmth I felt deep inside was as much of a red flag as it was when we were teenagers, only this time, I realized that the warning meant nothing to me anymore.

  Uh-oh.

  * * *

  Around ten minutes until noon, I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door.

  “Vanessa? The doctor just arrived.”

  “Coming!” I shouted from the bathroom, taking a final glance at my hair and outfit, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles as I wrestled with my nerves.

  After a rather stilted breakfast filled with lots of tense silence and awkward small talk, Brandon had taken off to his office to wrap up the work he had to do this morning. I had fled to the bedroom and taken a long bath in the luxurious tub, taking extra time to shave everywhere that needed it before I got out and blow-dried my hair.

  Before I even realized it, I had straightened my hair, perfected my makeup, and was in the process of putting on an outfit that was far cuter than what the day called for. It’d been a long damn time since I got ready for a date and I felt totally insane for thinking about an innocent afternoon of hanging out with Brandon in such a way.

  I got all dolled up to spend time with Brandon. I’m officially crazy.

  But regardless of my sanity, or lack thereof, I had a job to do. Granted today was going to be solely meeting with the doctor and finally getting an explanation of why I was here, I still needed to put on my game face and stop thinking about Brandon as something more than he was.

  “He’s a patient and my stepbrother. That’s all,” I firmly told my reflection.

  But the primped-up image presented back at me said an entirely different story. I could only hope that Brandon wouldn’t notice.

  * * *

  My hope that Brandon wouldn’t notice the effort I put into my appearance was in vain, but luckily, he seemed to be completely clueless as to why I had done it. His eyes constantly strayed to me as we moved through the house, making our way to his study. But every time I looked over, he’d turn away, a pink blush forming on his cheeks.

  He really has no idea that I did this for him.

  No, I didn’t do this for him!

  Irritated at myself, I shook my head and let out a huff of frustration. He held open the door to the study and gave me a questioning tilt of the head, which I shrugged off with a mumbled, “It’s nothing.”

  His mouth opened—to argue I was certain—but a crisp British accent cut off whatever he was going to say.

  “Good day Mr. Jensen. I take it this is the woman who will be acting as your nurse post-surgery?”

  I turned to the older man and nodded, reaching my hand out to shake his. “Yes, I’m Vanessa Jensen. It’s nice to meet you.”

  The doctor took my hand for a brief second then dropped it. The dark eyes behind his glasses moved rapidly between myself and Brandon and I awkwardly shuffled on my feet as I waited for his name.

  “Jensen, did you say?”

  Brandon chimed in from behind me. “Her mother is married to my father. She’s my stepsister.”

&nb
sp; “Ah,” the man breathed in understanding. “Very well. I’m Dr. Shaw. Pleased to meet you.”

  I nodded and glanced down, thankful that he hadn’t reached out for another awkward handshake. I took a step back so I could see them both, waiting for an explanation. Dr. Shaw was flipping through the contents a unlabeled folder and Brandon was staring blankly at the wall. After a few moments of silence, I finally snapped.

  “So is anyone going to tell me what’s going on or are you going to make me guess?”

  My light-hearted attempt to move the meeting along wasn’t a good choice if the look on Brandon’s face was anything to go by. I spared a glance at the doctor and saw that he was scowling at me, even more unamused than Brandon.

  “It would be completely unprofessional of me to not inform you of your duties prior to the surgery,” he said dryly, not bothering to spare me the annoyed rolling of his eyes. “Give me a moment to review Mr. Jensen’s questions and we’ll begin.”

  So that’s what the folder was. It wasn’t medical history or anything I needed to be informed of, it was Brandon’s own personal questions and concerns about the procedure. Feeling a little stupid for my impatience, I slunk further back until I was leaning against the wall and waited. By the time Dr. Shaw closed the folder and looked sternly at Brandon, I was nearly nodding off just from sheer boredom.

  “Mr. Jensen, I understand you’d prefer to discuss some of the questions in private, but I must address one of them now. You’ve mentioned that you would prefer to only be on painkillers for three days so you’ll be able to return to work by the fourth and I must decline this request.”

  I cocked my head to the side and watched with bated breath as Brandon clenched his jaw, forcing away his anger before responding.

  “Dr. Shaw, I assure you that I am aware of my own pain tolerance and limitations. I think that—”

  “With all due respect, I don’t particularly care what you think. I believe I know better than you do in this matter and the minimum amount of time you will need to be confined to bed rest and medication is one week. Even that is too short in my personal opinion, but if you insist upon it, I won’t stop you.”

  “Bed rest, meds, no work for one week. Got it,” I chimed in once yet another tense silence descended upon the room. I waited until they both looked at me before I asked, “Can you tell me what medications he’ll be on?”

  The doctor opened his bag to retrieve a second folder, this one labeled plainly with Brandon’s name and date of birth. The moment he passed it to me, I flipped it open, going through the list of medications and details about his post-surgery care, searching for clues about the actual surgery itself at the same time.

  Brandon stepped closer to the doctor and the two exchanged a few hushed whispers while I frowned down at the paperwork. It was clear to me that the doctor would obviously be working to repair whatever was causing Brandon’s limp, but that didn’t explain why he was to be kept in bed rest and not allowed a wheelchair.

  “So in addition to repairing whatever damage is causing the limp, what else are you doing?” I asked, drawing the attention of both men immediately to me.

  Brandon’s eyes widened for a moment and color crept onto his cheeks, but he did a damn good job of quickly covering himself. He cleared his throat and blandly stated, “Dr. Shaw will also be attempting to repair some of the scars from my accident.”

  My eyes immediately went to his ruined cheek and I felt the guilt swirl in my stomach when I saw the recognition dawn in his eyes as he noticed my appraisal. He shook his head and raised a hand to gesture at his face.

  “This… This is beyond repair. But it’s not the extent of the damage that was done and since I’ll be under the knife anyways, I figured I might as well get a surgeon who can take care of some of the scarring on my chest.”

  It was then that Dr. Shaw raised his fingers in the air, requesting a turn to speak. “I disagree again, Mr. Jensen. I believe the mutilation of your face could at least be partially reduced by—”

  “That’s enough,” Brandon growled, cutting the other man off mid-sentence.

  “Sir, I’m simply saying that—”

  “ENOUGH!”

  Brandon’s booming shout startled both the doctor and myself, only Shaw managed to refrain from jumping. He seemed confused by the outburst, but I instinctively knew what had caused it and the desire to comfort Brandon was nearly strong enough to move me towards him, despite what it might have looked like.

  “Brandon,” I said softly, hoping it would diffuse some of the tension in the room.

  His face cleared instantly, almost as if the moment had never even happened. He turned to me and let out a wavering breath before quietly asking, “Vanessa, would you please leave Dr. Shaw and I to go over a few of the questions I’d prefer to discuss privately? I’ll come find you when I’m done so you can ask him any of your own.”

  His tone was questioning, but his face was stern and left no room for argument. I forced a tight smile and nodded, giving the two men privacy to discuss whatever Brandon needed to talk about.

  I rushed to my bedroom for a pen to jot down all the things I wanted to discuss with the doctor before the day of the surgery arrived, but my mind kept wandering back to the pained expression on Brandon’s face when Shaw referred to his scars as mutilation.

  Chapter 10

  “What do you think of Dr. Shaw?”

  When Brandon asked me that question over a late lunch after the man in question had finally left, my first thought was to respond with ‘he’s an arrogant piece of shit’, but I managed to bite my tongue before the words slipped out.

  Instead, I opted for a neutral tone and said, “He seems very... proficient.”

  A cocked eyebrow and a light chuckle was the only response he gave. I smiled at Brandon before returning my attention to my meal.

  Despite me telling him that I had no plans to drink while on duty, it didn’t escape my notice that wine was mysteriously absent during our meal. While it could have simply been that Brandon didn’t think it was appropriate to drink during lunch, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he thought I was incapable of controlling myself.

  Either way, I got the feeling that when it came to my drinking, he was more concerned about my well-being than anything else and a nagging voice in the back of my head told me it was a good thing that he cared. The last thing I needed was to be around someone who encouraged my bad habits.

  That really never ended well.

  “I think the better question is—What do you think of Dr. Shaw? I mean, you’re the one he’s going to be cutting in to.”

  Brandon waved his hand dismissively. “He can be a bit difficult to take, but he’s damn good at what he does. I trust him.”

  “Then that’s all that matters.”

  His eyes drifted away, landing on the wall behind me and slightly glazing over. “Did he answer all your questions? You’re clear on your duties?”

  I nodded and reached for my glass of water, rinsing down the latest bite before replying. “Yep, I’m all ready to go. The only thing I really need to do is get a lay of the house so I know where everything is.”

  “Well, we have plenty of time for that today. I can show you around a little more thoroughly and I’ll make sure everything is unlocked so you can get a better feel for it. I know the house is... Well, it’s a hell of a lot bigger than it needs to be for just one person, but back when I had it built...”

  I waited patiently for him to continue after he trailed off, but he never did. His eyes once again glassed over as he got lost in his thoughts and I gripped my fists tightly by my sides to refrain from slamming them on the table and demanding him to finish his sentence. Something about his wistful tone told me that whatever it was he was going to say was important.

  “Brandon?” I prodded, hoping he’d take the bait.

  His gaze refocused and he smiled, but there was no joy in it. Just... an overwhelming sadness that I’d never seen on his face befo
re. The sight made my stomach twist and my heart leap to my throat.

  “Sorry about that. I was just saying that while the house is pretty big, it’s not that hard to get a handle on. You shouldn’t have any problems.”

  After he pushed his plate to the side, making it clear he was finished with his meal, I hurriedly finished eating so we could begin the thorough tour of the house and property. When my plate was cleared, he lifted it from the table and left the room without a word, leaving me alone to wonder whether I was supposed to follow him or not.

  With a heavy sigh, I grabbed our glasses and trailed behind, wondering if it was even possible for him to get accustomed to human interaction after so much time spent on his own.

  * * *

  Brandon decided that the best way for me to get to know the house was for me to explore aimlessly while he trailed behind and pointed out what room I was entering. It seemed like a solid plan, but after the third time I glanced behind me and caught him blushing, I realized that there might have been an ulterior motive behind it.

  Which was an interesting development, to put it mildly.

  My intentions were fairly modest from that point on—an exaggerated hair flip, bending over just a tad bit more than was necessary, leaning towards him when he spoke. But every small, testing move that I made got very little reaction and before I even realized what I was doing, I was upping the ante just like I had at my aunt’s house all those years ago.

  Only this time, I wasn’t met with angry eyes and insults. Brandon actually seemed genuinely baffled about what the hell I was up to. It was a far cry from making out with him outside the wine cellar and the argument that followed, and it wasn’t until we reached his office that I realized that we really were totally different people now.

  I didn’t know him anymore and he certainly didn’t know me.

  The only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted him more than I ever had before. I just couldn’t for the life of me figure out why.