The Other Brother
Kristen Granata
Copyright © 2019 by Kristen Granata
www.kristengranata.com
Editing: Jennifer Sommersby
Cover Design: © Taylor Danae Colbert
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Epilogue
Other Titles by Kristen
Acknowledgements
To Kelsi & Addison:
My girls, may you find love that sets your souls on fire,
and propels you toward being even better
versions of yourselves.
Prologue
Charlotte
“Are you coming?” I asked.
“Not yet.” Dad stuck his head through the kitchen doorway and smiled. “I’ll be home in a bit.”
I waved and turned around to give the empty bakery a last once-over. The registers had been closed out; the thermostat was set to seventy-eight; the countertops were wiped clean. I jingled my car keys as I strode to the front door and switched off the lights. I jumped when I heard a loud clanging come from the kitchen. I ran to the back of the store and pushed the kitchen door open.
“Dad! Are you—” My feet froze when I saw two large men in black suits standing over my father, lying on his back on the tile floor. Several pots and pans had landed next to him. He wore an expression that I had never seen on him before: terror.
Some say that when you are faced with possible death, your whole life flashes before your eyes. I expected to see a montage of clips in my mind, playing like an old family movie spinning on a reel. I thought I would see my mother when she was alive, or a birthday party in my backyard when I was a child. I did not experience any of that, though.
In those mere seconds we all stared at one another—as if someone had pressed a pause button—all I could focus on was the quiet. I will never forget that silence. It was the sound of my life changing, forever.
The older, rounder, of the two men pointed at me. “Grab her.”
“Run!” my father yelled.
My track legs took me all the way to the front of the store before the younger man caught up to me.
“Gotcha!” He grabbed hold of my arm.
I pulled back and tried to shake myself free. I did not want to leave my father with these men, but if I could get out of the bakery, I could get help.
“Stop squirming!” The oaf kicked the kitchen door open with his large, shiny black shoe. “Where do you want her, John?”
John’s soulless eyes swept around the room. “Grab that stool and put her next to her father.”
Dad was now zip-tied to the handle on the oven door, sitting on a rolling stool. I used to roll around the kitchen on that stool as a kid. Now, a new memory would be attached to it.
Dad could not bring himself to make eye contact with me. I was forced to sit beside him while my wrists were tightly bound to the same handle on the oven.
“Introduce us to your daughter, Frank,” John said with a sly smile. “She’s very pretty.”
I cringed as he made a show of surveying my body. I turned to my father, a mixture of fear and confusion churning in my stomach. “Dad …?”
“Shut up and listen, blondie,” John growled. “Your father here owes us money. We had a deal. Isn’t that right, Frank?”
“I told you boys—you will get your money. I just need some extra time. Please, just leave her out of this.”
This. What was this?
“We already gave you extra time. What the fuck do you think we are—a bill you can make late payments on whenever you need to? That ain’t how this works, and you know it.”
“How much money do you owe them?”
The younger, still-nameless man stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. “You don’t have the kind of money we need, princess.”
I jerked my face away from his touch. “Don’t touch me.”
The two men chuckled. “I like her, Frank,” John said. “She’s got spunk.”
“My father is a man of his word. If he says he’s going to pay you back, he will get the money. Why can’t you give him more time?” I knew it wouldn’t work, but I had to try. I’d seen movies like this, and they did not end well for the people who were tied up.
“Charlotte, stay out of this,” my father warned.
“Stay out of this? I’m tied to the oven, Dad!”
My father hung his head. “Please, John. Just let her go, and you can do what you want with me.”
John laughed again. “Oh, we’re not going to kill you, Frank. You owe us money. You’re no good to me dead.”
I wanted to heave a sigh of relief, but I could sense a catch coming. If they weren’t planning on killing us, what were they going to do? Death might be the better option with these thugs. Dozens of equally horrifying scenarios played in my mind.
“What do you want, then? I can have the money to you by Friday. I swear!” Dad sounded frantic.
John grinned, showing all of his yellowed teeth. “We came to get some insurance.”
Dad’s eyebrows furrowed.
John pointed to me.
My heart pounded in my throat as the younger man stepped toward me with a pocket-knife in hand and cut one of my wrists free, holding it tightly in his hands. Tears flooded my vision. I tried as hard as I could not to let them escape. I did not want to give these goons the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
“John, Tommy, please,” Dad begged. “Please don’t do this. I will have your money by Friday. You have my word.”
“Oh, we’re going to make sure of that,” John said in a low voice. His eyes darted to Tommy. “Do it.”
Without hesitation, Tommy snapped my wrist like a twig.
A scream forced it way out of me, and the tears came out with it. I had tried to be tough, but the pain in my wrist was too much to bear. I lifted my leg and kicked Tommy’s shin as hard as I could from my seated position.
Tommy lurched forward, grabbing his shin. “Ow, you bitch!” He swung his arm and backhanded me across my cheek.
“Stop!” Dad screamed. “Please, stop!”
John cackled. “Fifty-thousand dollars, blondie. That’s how much money your old man owes us. Take that wrist as a warning. If we don’t get our money by Friday, your other wrist is next.”
Tommy
cut my right arm loose, and then Dad’s.
Dad wrapped his arms around me, tears streaming down his face. “Charlotte, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry!”
I backed away from him, cradling my wrist. My protector, the man I once sought comfort from, was now a stranger.
John and Tommy were halfway out the door at the far end of the kitchen when John looked back and grinned evilly. “You should get that wrist checked out. It looks broken.”
I grabbed a ladle, the closest thing within reach, and hurled it at him with all my might. The spoon barely missed his shoulder, bouncing off the door frame. He threw his head back and laughed as he closed the door behind him.
“Come on, honey. I’ll take you to the hospital.” Dad wiped his tears with the back of his hand.
“How are you going to get $50,000 by Friday?”
“Don’t worry about that. Let’s go. When we get to the hospital, we’ll say that you fell and landed on your wrist.”
The lies rolled off his tongue so easily. How had I not known? How had I not seen it? A tornado of questions swirled in my head. I leaned against the counter to steady myself. “Those guys are coming back in seven days, Dad. I don’t want my other wrist broken, too. How are you getting that money?”
He sighed, rubbing the stubble on top of his head. “Can we talk about it on the way to the hospital?”
The sooner I get to the hospital, the sooner I’ll get pain meds. I turned without a word and exited the kitchen.
Outside, I scanned the empty parking lot while Dad locked the shop door. I knew John and Tommy were gone, but they had left me with a frightened feeling in addition to my purple, swollen wrist. The pain was so bad I wanted to vomit, but the pain of my father’s secret hurt worse than any broken bone ever could.
As my father drove to the hospital, I studied him out of the corner of my eye. With his round face and brown eyes, we did not look alike, though we shared the same nose. I was the spitting image of my mother. Did Mom see what just happened? What would she say in this situation, if she were still here?
“I’m still your dad, you know. I’m the same person you’ve known your whole life.”
I shook my head. “The man I know would never get involved with people like that.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Well, you need to figure out how to un-complicate things before those guys come back.”
It was silent for the remainder of the car ride, and I was relieved. Anger mounted inside me, and I needed to regain my composure before we got to the hospital. My wrist and I were now part of Dad’s lie, and I needed a story that would be both believable and easy enough to remember when I retold it.
When he parked, Dad unclipped his seatbelt and turned to face me. “I really am sorry about this, Charlotte. I never wanted to drag you into my mess.”
I pulled on the door handle and stepped out of the car. I wanted to reassure Dad that everything was okay … but it wasn’t. I had a habit of holding grudges against those who betrayed me. I never thought I would have a grudge to hold against my own father. After my mother died, it was just the two of us. We were inseparable. We told each other everything, or so I thought. What had happened along the way?
I insisted that he stay in the waiting room while I had my wrist x-rayed. I needed to think of a plan, and I could not do it with his guilt-filled eyes on me. He wore the same expression when he told me Mom was going to die. And I would now do the same thing I did then: try to make it all better.
As expected, my wrist was broken and needed to be casted. I had just graduated high school, and now instead of spending my summer in the pool, I’d be spending it in a bright pink cast.
I raised my arm when I returned to my father in the waiting room. “My consolation prize after our fun night.”
He put his arms around me, but I remained stiff.
On the ride home, I gazed out the window at the palm trees as we passed by. Apalachicola, Florida had always been my home. I had friends. I was on the track team. I’d had a normal life. Until tonight.
When I told Dad my plan, he remained quiet. I knew he was trying to think of another way out of this mess.
He pulled into our driveway, killed the engine, and sighed heavily. “That bakery has been in our family since before you were born. Your mother loved that place. It’s all we have left of her.”
I nodded.
“You can say it. I know what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking?”
“You’re thinking, if it meant that much to me, then I would not have gotten involved with those guys in the first place. I wouldn’t have put my business and my daughter in jeopardy.”
I nodded again. I could not deny it. Not even for him.
“It’s hard to explain. Sometimes you think you’re making the right choices in life, but those choices can turn out to be the wrong ones, and you just didn’t foresee how badly it could go.”
I looked down at my cast. “Every choice has a consequence. Now we both have to deal with the consequence of your choice.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
I took a deep breath. “My plan is the only way.”
One
Charlotte
“Oh my God. There she is,” Mallory whispered.
I followed the direction of her less-than-discreet pointer finger. Two girls walked through the cafeteria. One had coppery red hair and she bounced when she walked. The brunette she was with had thick curls cascading down her back, and her left arm was cradled in a sling. Everyone’s animated conversations suddenly turned into hushed murmurs as the two friends made their way across the room.
“Should I know who that is?”
“Don’t you watch the news?” Mallory hissed.
“I don’t like to watch the news.”
“The girl with the curly hair—that’s Merritt. She was just in a coma for two weeks. She was in an awful car accident.”
“What happened?”
“Her father killed himself. She showed up to his funeral completely wasted, and on the way home she crashed her car right into a tree. Head-on collision. The whole thing burst into flames. Someone pulled her out and saved her life, but no one knows who it was.”
I now felt guilty for gawking at the poor girl and shifted my attention to my half-eaten slice of pizza. “This is exactly why I don’t watch the news.”
Mallory waved her hand, her voice returning to its normal volume of three hundred. “Please. This isn’t your small town in East Bumblefuck. Bad shit happens. All. The. Time.”
I took a sip of soda. “Bad shit happens in East Bumble, too.” Little did Mallory know, her new friend was well aware of the bad things that could happen—and the bad things one had to do in order to escape it all. My chest tightened as the memories slithered out of the dark corners I locked them in. No. Not here. I inhaled deeply, forcing myself to remain in the present.
“Holy balls!”
I jumped, startled out of my thoughts. “What?”
“Chase Brooks is talking to Merritt! First, she gets rescued from certain death, and now this. That is one lucky bitch.”
“Her father committed suicide, and she was in a horrible accident. I wouldn’t exactly call her lucky.”
“If you knew who Chase was, you’d understand how lucky she is. Look.”
I looked over my shoulder, trying not to be obvious. Chase was tall, muscular, and blond. He looked like a model from California, chiseled jaw and all.
“Gorgeous, right?”
I shrugged as I turned back around. “He’s not bad.”
She blinked several times. “Are you a lesbian?”
“No!”
“I’d still be your friend if you were.”
“I am not a lesbian, Mal.”
“Okay. Point out someone in here that you find attractive.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and leaned back in her seat.
“You can’t tell if you like someone just by looking at him. It’s so
much deeper than that. Who cares if he’s good-looking if he’s not a good person?”
“Your vagina cares.”
I cringed at her crudeness. Sensing I had to play along, my eyes swept around the campus cafeteria.
“Come on, Char. You’re not picking out your future husband. You’re just looking for someone who is visually appealing to you. That’s it.”
Across the room, a group of boisterous boys were tossing a football back and forth. They hooted, hollered, and hit on just about every girl who walked through the doors. I continued scanning until I settled on a boy at the far end of their table. With thick dark hair and olive skin, he stared at his phone while he ate lunch. He stood out amongst the crew of rowdy frat boys he was sitting with. Visually appealing was an understatement.
I nodded in his direction. “Him.”
“Well, now I know why you don’t like Chase.”
“Why?”
“Because you like the bad boys.”
I stole a second look at him. “How is he a bad boy? He seems so calm and quiet.”
“That’s not calm and quiet—that’s troubled and brooding. That is Tanner Brooks.”
“Brooks? Is he related to Chase?”
“Yup. That’s Chase’s brother. Chase is the sexy, charismatic rock star, and Tanner is … well, he’s just the other brother.”
“You asked me to find someone good-looking.” I shoved a piece of pizza crust into my mouth.
“He is, but I wouldn’t touch that one with a ten-foot pole.”
“What makes him such a bad guy?”
“I grew up with those boys.” She gestured to the group with her fork. “They’re typical eighteen-year-olds, for the most part. They’re impulsive; they do and say dumb shit; and they’ll stick their dicks in any available holes they can find. But Tanner has got major anger issues. He always had a bit of a temper, but it has gotten so much worse over the past couple years. Last year, he punched Jimmy Panico so hard that he had to get homeschooled for the rest of the year.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t think Jimmy’s been right ever since.”
“Why the change?”
“No one knows. Chase is nothing like him, and their parents are so nice. Tanner was just born with a chip on his shoulder. Maybe it’s steroids.”
The Other Brother (The Collision Series) Page 1