Wrecked: A Stepbrother Romance Novel

by Arabella Abbing

  “Because you have an early surgery tomorrow morning and if I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to stop at all.”

  Brandon’s eyes widened for a moment, as if the realization of what was bound to happen next hadn’t fully hit him. That in itself wasn’t the troubling part; it was the hint of fear that was easily recognizable to me that raised my internal flags.

  “Hey, what’s the matter?”

  “Nothing at all,” he said dismissively, pushing himself up and gently nudging me off his lap. As he moved to stand up, he continued, “But you’re right. I really should grab something to eat and try to get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

  With a furrowed brow, I followed suit and stood up, dusting the sand off my legs and dress. Brandon turned away from me then paused, glancing back and reaching a hand out to me. I silently wondered if the gesture was because he simply wanted to hold my hand, or if it was supposed to be some kind of apology for his strange behavior.

  Either way, I took it, unable to keep the small smile off my face as we slowly walked down the beach together.

  * * *

  “How long will he be out for?”

  “I’m administering enough anesthesia to keep him under for eight hours. Dr. Shaw expects to have the surgery wrapped up in five, but he wanted a large window for the possibility of unforeseen complications.”

  I nodded and quietly thanked the woman before she walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  But I wasn’t alone for long.

  Brandon entered the room in a far more luxurious version of the standard hospital gown and plopped down on the operation table, nervously twisting his hands together as the doctor and his assistants discussed the final details of the surgery on the opposite side of the room.

  “Are you okay?”

  He looked up at me like he hadn’t even realized I was there, but managed to crack a half-smile for me anyways. He nodded slightly, his cheeks turning pink under my scrutiny.

  “You’re sure?” I gently prodded.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just... thinking. Trying to distract myself.”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  The blush deepened and he looked down at his intertwined hands. “That I wish I had kissed you this morning before everyone showed up.”

  It was my turn to blush now. After our walk back to the house the night before, we had decided to have a light dinner and call it a night to make sure we were both mentally and physically prepared for this morning. Brandon insisted on walking me to my bedroom where he had given me a light, sweet kiss goodnight, then headed to his own room like the gentleman he was.

  I didn’t want to admit it, but I had stayed up for hours fantasizing about what might have happened if we continued what we started on the beach. I switched between escalating what happened and imagining what it’d be like to go further with him and over-analyzing the reaction that I got from him. That look of sheer panic when I made the mention of not stopping.

  “I wish you had too. You’ll just have to make up for it later,” I whispered, keeping my voice low enough so that none of the staff could overhear.

  That was enough to pull a genuine smile out of him, but it faded when Dr. Shaw announced that it was time to put Brandon under. I tried to convey with my eyes all the things I felt before I backed away from him, murmuring a quiet, “I’ll see you soon.”

  He nodded and I allowed myself to be ushered out of the room, both saddened and relieved for the fact that I wasn’t required to be present during the actual surgery. My mind began playing my made-up vision of Brandon in the car accident, covered in his own blood and I felt my stomach twist up in knots.

  I took a deep breath and said a silent prayer for his well-being before heading down the hall to his bedroom to prepare everything I’d need to tend to him during the period of his bedrest and go over the packet of instructions again.

  He’ll be fine. Dr. Shaw is the best money can buy. Everything will be fine.

  * * *

  Six hours of busying myself with anything I could find that needed to be tidied, cleaned, or read, Dr. Shaw found me waiting by what was soon to be Brandon’s bedside. I stood up immediately, feeling like I was stuck in quicksand while I waited for him to say anything.

  After a moment, his face lit up in a triumphant smile as he declared, “The surgery was a success. He’ll be out for another two hours then heavily sedated, but everything went perfectly.”

  I let out a gust of breath so strong that I could have been holding it for the past six hours and plopped back down on the chair. After I was sure Shaw was out of range, I buried my face in my hands and let the happy tears of relief finally fall.

  Chapter 12

  A few hours after the surgery was completed, I found myself checking the IV bag at Brandon’s bedside while I waited for him to awaken. Dr. Shaw and a few others were still lingering around in the house for the very same reason, adamant on making sure he was stable before they even began to break down the makeshift surgery suite. Their attentiveness made it very clear to me that Brandon had been right when he’d said Shaw was the best.

  After I wrapped up triple-checking that everything was in place, I plopped down on the nearby chair and, as if on cue, I could see Brandon beginning to stir. I moved as fast as I possibly could, quickly glancing down to see his eyelids fluttering and confirm that he really was waking up before I rushed to the door to call out for the doctor.

  By the time his lids fully opened, Shaw was rushing into the room and placing a hand on his shoulder to stop the automatic reflex of sitting up.

  “How are you feeling, Mr. Jensen?”

  Brandon let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh before jerking his chin up and down. When Shaw waved me over to join them, I immediately reached for the water and gently assisted him in taking a swallow. Once he’d had enough, Shaw repeated his question.

  “I’m great,” he slowly drawled.

  Shaw and I chuckled and shared a knowing glance.

  “I’m happy to hear that you’re feeling well, but I need you to remember to stay as still as possible, do you understand? Do not risk damaging the stitches.”

  “Mmkay,” Brandon sleepily murmured before his eyelids began to droop.

  Shaw’s spine straightened and he turned back to face me. “We’ll begin breaking down majority of the surgical equipment, only keeping what may be needed if any issues should arise. I’ll be back regularly to check on his progress, but for the most part, you’ll be taking over from here. Any last minute questions?”

  I shook my head. “Nope, I’m good. And I’ve got your number if I think of anything.”

  “Excellent. Have a pleasant evening.”

  “You too. And thank you.”

  He granted me a tight smile, one that told me he wasn’t certain that I would be able to perform the tasks that needed to be done efficiently. I managed not to roll my eyes at his retreating form, confident in my ability to take care of Brandon.

  I was a damn good nurse and the fact that my patient was my stepbrother slash sort-of-almost lover just meant that I was even more determined to do a good job and ensure a speedy recovery.

  “Hey,” Brandon croaked out, his voice pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Hey,” I said softly, leaning over his bedside and gently caressing his scarred cheek. “You need anything?”

  “Just you. Always you.”

  When his eyes reopened and focused on me, it became clear that he had exaggerated his level of tiredness just to get rid of Shaw. He was also clearly drugged out of his mind, but I still blushed at the romantic comment.

  “We’ll see if you feel that way when you’re not on morphine,” I joked as I reached beneath his head to puff up his pillow.

  “Course I will,” he mumbled, then weakly lifted his hand to gesture to the end table. “Water?”

  I angled the straw to his dry lips and helped him crane his neck to sip it, watching his face closely for any sign of dis
comfort. After I placed the glass back on the nightstand, Brandon closed his eyes and blindly reached for my hand. I linked my fingers with his and waited for him to speak, but soon, the soft sound of his breathing evening out told me he was asleep.

  I told myself that the only reason I stayed with our hands twisted together was to avoid the possibility of waking him, but deep down, the truth was making my heart pound.

  * * *

  “I’d like to take a look at his stitches, if you wouldn’t wind,” Dr. Shaw said after he strolled into the room and made a sweeping gesture towards the door.

  I raised an eyebrow and folded my arms over my chest, making sure that my pose clearly stated, ‘There’s no way in hell that I’m leaving this room.’

  “He’s asleep.”

  He smirked and moved closer, pulling down Brandon’s blanket to inspect the cloth bandages covering his chest. As he began to work at the tape holding the wraps in place he said, “Assuming you have given him the proper amount of post-op medication, I highly doubt this will wake him.”

  Considering the dosage of drugs I’d pumped into him not even twenty minutes ago, I knew he was right. Not that I would say that out loud.

  Even though he clearly wanted me gone for what was most likely modesty issues, I busied myself before he had another opportunity to shoo me away and kept my peripheral vision trained on the damaged skin that Shaw was slowly revealing. He seemed to only be checking the stitches on his chest for the time being, leaning in close to get a better look.

  “How’s it look?”

  Shaw lightly prodded at Brandon’s skin with his glove-clad hands before heaving a sigh and turning to face me.

  “In my opinion? Both surgeries went swimmingly. The removal of previous damage went exceptionally well considering the age and nature of the scars, but I feel that there’s a strong possibility that Mr. Jensen will not be as pleased with the results.”

  I swallowed hard, trying to keep the nervousness off my face. “Brandon’s not naïve. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting a miracle.”

  The smile he gave me in return could only be described as wry.

  “That may be true, but I would be willing to bet that when he first looks in a mirror, he will be disappointed. Come look. Tell me what you think.”

  I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to see more of the damage done to his body from the accident, but I was compelled to mention something first.

  “I didn’t see what the scars looked like before.”

  “I have a few pre-op photos if you’d like to see them, but come take a look at the after. You’ve surely seen some rather crude stitches working in a hospital for as long as you did. I’d like your opinion.”

  My first reaction was to be genuinely surprised that a man like Dr. Shaw would even ask for my opinion, but the smug smile on his face told me that he saw it as more of an opportunity to brag than anything else. Either way, I slowly stepped forward because I was well aware that he was probably right. Brandon would probably look in the mirror and see the bruising and the freshness of the cuts and assume that the surgery was a total failure.

  I, on the other hand, could better identify what a good stitch looked like and would have a better idea of how it’d look after some time had passed.

  Plus, there was the totally selfish part of me that was just curious to see Brandon’s almost-bare upper body. I’d never admit that out loud to Shaw, but I could at least admit it to myself.

  The cuts were obviously new, but I could see just how clean the stitching was. It was a bit of a relief to discover that Shaw’s bravado was well-deserved. He had done a damn fine job.

  It was a bit of a struggle to resist the urge to gently touch the stitches just to feel Brandon’s skin, but I knew better than to risk infection like that. There was also the matter of the doctor who was standing annoyingly close to my side, pointing at the different cuts and explaining how they had misshapen his skin prior to the surgery. I nodded like I was listening, but in reality, I had backed away enough to get a clear picture of Brandon as he now was.

  Without seeing the before pictures, I didn’t know whether it was because of the surgery or if Brandon just hadn’t been in as bad of a shape as I had expected. While the wreck was obviously brutal on his entire body, his face seemed to suffer the most damage.

  As Shaw continued to drone on, I pondered how he must have looked directly after the wreck. Considering the sight was enough to drive him away from nearly all human contact, I could only imagine that it hadn’t have been a pretty sight.

  But what killed me now was that he was allowing his personal feelings about his scars dictate nearly his entire life. Regardless of what he though, Brandon wasn’t a monster, yet he still felt compelled to hide himself away from the world like one.

  I’d been here for less than a week and I was already to the point where my eyes weren’t immediately drawn to his scars whenever I looked at him, so why was he so concerned that other people would be any different? And even if some did occasionally look at him like a monster—Did it really matter?

  It saddened me that he couldn’t see what I saw. That he couldn’t see that he was still completely and utterly gorgeous.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Shaw snapped, drawing me out of my revere.

  “I’m so sorry,” I quickly apologized, not even bothering to attempt to cover my ass by saying yes. Shaw seemed like the type to call me out by asking me to repeat what he’d last said and I figured it’d be easier just to make up an excuse. “I got distracted. I just remembered that I didn’t call my mom after the surgery.”

  His lips pursed together for a moment, then he clucked his tongue and nodded. “Understandable. She is Mr. Jensen’s stepmother, correct? You should probably give her a call to let her know that everything went well.”

  I forced a smile and nodded my thanks before turning around and rushing to the door. I actually did go all the way to my room and grab my cell phone, momentarily toying with the idea of calling her on the cruise and explaining everything that had happened thus far, but ultimately decided against it. It felt wrong to call them without discussing it with Brandon first, even though I knew I would eventually have to come clean.

  Deep down, I also knew that I didn’t want to risk mom and Harold finding out Brandon’s location and putting an end to their vacation to fly out here to see him. Not until whatever was happening between us had a chance to fully develop.

  * * *

  “Vanessa?”

  I looked up from my book and smiled at Brandon’s sleepy eyes. “Morning, sunshine.”

  He let out a light chuckle, then winced. “How long was I out?”

  I slid my bookmark into place before setting it down on the end table and moving to stand closer to him, hoping it’d ease some of the strain on his neck.

  “A while. Since you insisted on not taking the full-length bedrest recommendation, Shaw upped the dosages on your meds to keep you out longer. Less movement means quicker healing.”

  He nodded his understanding, then very slightly began to adjust himself.

  “Better for healing, worse for my back,” he commented with a groan. “Hurts like hell.”

  “It’s nearly time for your next dose, so the medication is probably wearing off,” I explained as I moved to grab the syringe. “Ready for some more happy thoughts?”

  He smiled as I slowly injected the medication into the IV bag. I could see his hands twitching with the desire to move around, but Brandon’s self-control was impeccable and he managed to remain perfectly still while he waited for the meds to send him back under.

  “Happy thoughts is right,” he said with an almost wistful sigh. “I dreamt about you.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised. “What happened?”

  His smile faded slightly, becoming more of a confused frown.

  “Shit. I can’t remember now. I just had it.”

  “Well if it was a very good dream, maybe it’s best if you don’t remember it
right now.”

  Brandon laughed, the movement of his chest making him wince with pain. His entire body tensed and I laid my hand gently on his shoulder to keep him still while we waited for the jolts of pain to disappear.

  “Fuck, that hurt.”

  “The painkillers will kick in soon, I promise.”

  “Let’s hope so,” he said as his body began to relax again. “So... did you see anything?”

  I knew this was coming eventually, so I had taken some time to prepare my answer and was easily able to keep my voice perfectly calm.

  “Dr. Shaw gave me a look at the reparation of the chest scarring, but he hasn’t taken a look at your leg yet. He should be by in an hour or so with some assistants for that.”

  Brandon swallowed hard. “How does it look?”

  “Right now? Like fresh cuts that are swollen and bruised. But in my professional opinion? The work is incredible. It’s going to take time to heal and fade, but after you first look in a mirror, you need to remember that it will fade.”

  The short burst of laughter was unexpected and I was about to ask what was so funny when he dryly commented, “That’s almost exactly what they told me after the accident. Word for fucking word.”

  “Then they fucking lied to you. But I’m not,” I said sternly, staring directly into his eyes and hoping that he’d be able to see how genuine I was being. “You’re never going to look like you once did and there will always be some form of scarring no matter who stitches you back up, but Shaw did an incredible job on your chest. All it needs now is time.”

  Another rough swallow made his Adam’s apple bob as he looked away. “And what about my face? Do... Do you think Shaw could make it any better?”

  I cupped his scarred cheek and pulled until he relented, looking at me again with wide eyes.

  “If anyone could do it, I think Shaw would be a good person to ask. But like I said...”

  “I’ll never be the same again.”

  His voice was miserable and I longed to make at least some of the pain go away. This time, it was my turn to swallow down the lump in my throat.