by Tessa Teevan
“Oh, sweetie, I’m so glad you’re awake. I was a nervous wreck when we got the call and we couldn’t get an update on your condition. I’m just glad you weren’t alone, that you had Ari here with you until we could be.”
He finally looks at Amelia. “My fiancée.” He tries the words out, and it’s a statement, not a question. I want to sigh with relief that he’s not calling for hospital security to drag me away—not that I’d blame him.
“Yes, honey, and don’t think you’re going to get away with keeping her hidden from us. Once you’re out of that hospital bed, I’ll give you the smack you deserve. Until then, you just focus on healing, honey.” Amelia wipes away a fresh set of tears.
Branson’s eyes soften when he sees them. “Mom, I’m okay. I may have a little trouble getting around for a while, but I’ll be back in fighting shape in no time. I promise,” he tells her.
“Of course you will be. I’m just happy for you.” She sniffles and looks around the room at each of her boys before smiling down at him. “All my sons happy and in love. It’s what every mother wishes for.”
Branson’s eyes widen and then narrow as they fall on me. I can feel the heat creeping up my neck, the blush on my cheeks at her implication. I think he’s about to blow my cover when a small smile breaks out on his face and he looks at her adoringly.
Wow. What I wouldn’t give to be on the receiving end of one of those looks.
“Of course, Mom, I’m sorry. It was kind of a whirlwind. Hell, I’m not even sure I know how or when it happened.” His voice is tight, but it’s obvious what he’s doing.
His mom’s radiating warmth and happiness even though he’s lying in a hospital bed, and instead of calling me out, he’s not going to be the one to break her heart.
Amelia claps her hands together, looking at her son tenderly. This is far from the dynamic I expected. “Well, tell me everything. How’d you meet? When did you propose? When’s the wedding?”
The blood drains from Branson’s face as he goes white as a sheet. His dad must notice because he crosses the room and places his hands on Amelia’s shoulders. “
Okay, honey. That’s enough. He just woke up. Why don’t we give the boy some room to breathe? Let’s go find the doctor and get the latest updates. Then, after he’s rested and is feeling up to it, he can tell you all about his love life.”
Amelia’s face falls slightly, but she readily agrees. After pressing a kiss to Branson’s forehead, she promises to be back soon and warns him that he better not leave anything out.
Branson mouths a silent, “Thank you,” to his father, who gives him an understanding nod.
I wheel myself to the edge of the room just as Knox moves to Branson’s bedside. I’m about to leave, but I stop, itching to witness this exchange with enough interest that it would make even the most skilled voyeur feel a bit creeped out.
Knox places a hand on Branson’s shoulder then scowls down at him. “Jesus Christ, Branson.” His tone has me wheeling closer, ready to tell him to back off if need be.
Branson stiffens, almost as if bracing for an attack.
“It wasn’t enough that I blew myself up. You had to go and do it, too?” Knox’s chuckle indicates that he’s joking, and I see Branson visibly sigh with relief.
“Yeah, you caught me. I hang out on highways just waiting for car accidents in hopes I’ll get blown sky high. Didn’t you know I had a death wish?”
“More like a hero complex. Only, last I checked, you aren’t exactly Captain America.”
Branson lets out a small laugh then winces and holds his side. “No, definitely not. You’re the Army goon, not me. If I get to be a superhero, I’d like to think I’m more like Bruce Wayne. A hotshot in the boardroom by day, getting blown up by night. It’s not the most glamorous life, but someone’s gotta do it.”
This whole exchange is baffling to me, but it seems like Branson’s in good hands, so I’m beginning to feel like an intruder. Turning, I start to wheel out of the room when I hear his gruff voice addressing me.
“Stop.” Even though his voice is raw and hoarse, the command is still firm.
I stop in my tracks, turning around but not looking at him.
I have a feeling that it’s time to face the music, and I’m not looking forward to it.
FINALLY. FUCKING finally. I’m finally being released from the torturous reminders of the fuck-up I really am. Feelings and memories that have long lain dormant have begun to resurface in the form of fucked-up dreams, and I’ve been fighting a war with myself to wake up and let them go back into the past where they belong.
And then I hear my mother’s voice and think I’ve awoken in an alternate reality. She’s speaking of me with such adoration, concern, and then she mentions a fiancée. My fiancée.
What the fuck is going on?
The struggle to open my eyes no longer exists, and when I do, I see her, my mom, looking down at someone with a sweet smile. My fiancée.
“My what?” I whisper hoarsely, causing Mom to look up, almost squealing when she sees that I’m awake.
She rushes to my side then gives me some song and dance about not telling her about my fiancée. When I look around the room, my eyes fall on the wheelchair, where she sits. It’s her. I know it is. But what I don’t know is who, exactly, she is or how she got here. Or why in the hell my mother thinks she’s my fiancée.
As I watch her, her eyes fall to her lap, and when I look down, I see the monstrous rock on her hand. Instantly, I know I didn’t give her that thing. But my mom thinks I did, and when she looks at me, her eyes brimming with tears as she tells me how happy she is that all her boys are in love, I can’t correct her. I don’t correct her. I can’t remember the last time my mom looked at me with genuine affection, and right now, I’m not strong enough to tell her the truth, not wanting to lose that look.
Instead, I continue to let her think that I’m engaged to this beautiful stranger. Which, I decide, is a mistake as Mom starts drilling me with questions. The girl nervously bites her lip when I hesitate, and I imagine us blurting out different answers, making this into more of a mess than it already is. Fortunately, Dad must see the stress on my face because he steps forward and reels Mom in.
After a quick exchange with Knox, I notice her trying to escape from the room, and I tell her to stop, which she does without question.
Well, at least my new fiancée is good at taking orders.
Clearing my throat, I glance at my brothers and their women. “I really appreciate you guys being here. I do. But can you give us a few minutes alone?”
Without hesitation, they clear out, leaving her and me alone.
Even though she’s facing me, she’s doing everything she can to not make eye contact. I take the time to study her. Her long, dark hair is half covered by a bandage, and for some odd reason, I want to reach out and stroke it. She’s pale except for the few bruises that mar her skin, but even still, I can see that she’s naturally beautiful.
“Come here,” I request, wincing at the gruffness of my tone.
She doesn’t respond, but she wheels her chair centimeters closer though still out of my reach.
“Closer please. My throat’s killing me, and I don’t want to strain my voice.”
“Okay,” she says softly. In a flash, she’s by my bedside, still looking away from me.
Taking my hand, I grip her chin, forcing her to look up at me. Her dark-brown eyes are shining, almost as if she’s ready to cry. Goddammit. I don’t do well with women crying, but sweet Jesus, I’m so fucking lost as to what’s going on. And why this woman is claiming to be my future wife. I may have banged my head, but I’m pretty sure I’d have remembered proposing.
“First things first. Your name? I mean, if you’re my fiancée and all, I should at least know what to call you.”
With that, she winces then holds her hand to her head. Strange panic rushes through me, and I’m quick to grab her hand.
“You okay? Need me to call someon
e for you?”
She shakes her head, giving me a small smile. “No. No, I’m fine. Don’t call anyone. Except maybe a shrink. I’m clearly a head case.”
I pause at that, letting my finger hover over the nurses’ call button. “Umm, a head case? As in you’re fucking crazy?”
“No, no! Nothing like that. I’m sorry,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Okay, let me start over. I’m Ariana. I’m not usually a head case, I promise. I may have just hit my head a little harder than I thought last night.”
I’m not sure why, but I’m convinced that she’s not an escapee from the psych ward, and I take my finger off the button. “Okay, Ariana. Care to tell me what the hell is going on and why my family seems to think you’re my fiancée?”
A pink blush forms over her face, and I can tell that she’s embarrassed. She looks back and forth between the door and my hospital bed then leans in close. “This is going to sound crazy, but it’s really not as strange as it seems. You saved my life last night, Branson. And when I woke up in the hospital, you were all I could think about. The way you took charge and got me out of the car and then cocooned me when the tank exploded? I needed to see you. I needed to know that you were okay. And when I asked the nurse if I could, she told me only family was allowed. Before I knew what I was doing, I spotted my ring and just kind of blurted it out. I know it sounds like something out of a bad movie, but it did work. The nurses were already swooning over your heroics, so add in a love story and they were more than happy to let me into your room.”
She stops speaking and nibbles on her lower lip as I process what the hell she’s just admitted. On the one hand, yeah, it could sound crazy, but it’s also kind of sweet. It’s something I’m not exactly used to in my life, so I’m not sure how to respond. At least to the fiancée part.
“I told you last night. I’m not a hero. I’m not a savior. I was just a guy on the side of the road who wasn’t going to let you stay trapped in that car. Anyone would’ve done that.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “You know that’s not true. Hell, the truck driver didn’t even try to help me. Think whatever you want, Branson, but you saved my life.”
Feeling uncomfortable with where this is going, I change the subject back to the matter at hand. I hold her hand up and eye the ring. “Where’s the guy who really gave this to you?” I ask.
She pulls her hand back, nibbling on that damn lip again. I’m beginning to realize that it’s like a nervous tick for her, and I’m finding it more endearing than I should. Jesus Christ. What the fuck kind of meds are they giving me? I should feel angry at the intrusion in my life, but instead, I’m starting to go soft.
“Let’s just say it took me a while, but I finally listened to your advice and ran like hell,” she blurts out.
I’m completely confused at this point, having no idea what the hell she’s talking about.
She sighs then leans forward, resting her elbow on the bed, and cradling her head in her hand. “You don’t remember the night we actually met, do you?”
I remember my dreams. I remember seeing her face, hearing her voice, touching her skin. As I study her, a strange thought comes to mind, and it clicks.
The face of an angel. My angel.
“Atlanta,” I say. Not a question, but a statement.
Her eyes widen. “Wow. You actually do remember.”
Not wanting to burst her bubble, I try to let her down gently. “Well, I remember you. I remember that bottle of scotch. I remember waking up with the world’s worst hangover. At first, I was wondering if you were just a drunken hallucination or a figment of my imagination until I saw the note you’d left for me.”
“If you don’t want anyone else to give up on you, you can’t give up on yourself,” she whispers, quoting the note, and I nod. “Well, from the looks of it, it’s been working. After everything you told me, I didn’t expect your family to be here. But it seems as if they really care about you, Branson.”
Swallowing hard, I know she’s right. “They do. I may have been drunk off my ass that night, but like I said, your words stuck, even if, at first, I thought I’d conjured you up in my drunken stupor. It’s not been easy. I’m definitely a work in progress. I have my good days and my bad. Probably still more bad than good, but I’m trying.”
She holds my gaze. Something passes between us, and for one split second, I have this insane wish that this were real. That she really were my fiancée waiting by my bedside, meeting my family, and I were thrilled to be living another day with her by my side. To finally have someone in my life who hasn’t been damaged by my past actions.
But it’s no use. This is all a farce, and that’s more disappointing than I expected.
“I’m sure that’s not true. As long as you’re trying, you’ll get there. Now, tell me, Branson. Why didn’t you rat me out to your mom?”
Leaning back in the bed, I sigh. “I don’t know what all I told you that night, but things have been strained for a while. The happiness I saw on her face at the mere thought of you and me? I couldn’t take that away from her. At least not yet.”
She twists her hands in knots. “Yeah, but that would’ve gotten you off the hook. The longer we continue this charade, the more hurt she’s going to be.”
“Then you probably should’ve fucking thought about that before you announced to half the hospital that we were engaged. Don’t pin this one on me, Ariana. This is all your doing. I wouldn’t have to set the record straight if you hadn’t started the lie to begin with.”
Sucking in a deep breath, she closes her eyes for a moment before looking back at me. “I deserve that. I put you in this position, and I accept full responsibility for it. I’ll explain it to her, let her know it was my doing and you had no idea.”
“No!” I exclaim, grabbing her hand and pulling her closer to me. “Don’t. You started this. The least you can do is finish it on my terms.”
She gasps and tries to pull her hand away, but I hold on tight. “Finish this?! Are you crazy? I’m not marrying a complete stranger.”
I sigh, and bring a hand to my forehead, where I feel a bandage, wincing as I make contact with the gash there. “That’s not what I’m asking. Look, according to the doctors, I’ll be here for a week or so. Let’s just…keep this charade going until at least I’m released. Then we can figure out where to go from there. Hell, you can even dump me and I’ll take all the blame, but please do this for me? Give me one week.”
“Branson, I don’t know…” she hesitates, and I push a little further.
“Look, do you have somewhere you need to be?”
She shakes her head slowly. “I was on the road to nowhere when the accident happened. I’m free as a bird. But still, I don’t feel right about this.”
“You felt right about it when you lied to the nurse. And then to my mom. I’m just asking for you to keep it going a little longer. I mean, I did save your life and all. It’s the least you could do,” I remind her, changing tactics and giving her a cocky smile.
She returns my grin, and I know I have her. “I thought you said you weren’t a hero.”
“Trust me, baby. I’m not. But if that’s what it takes to get you to say yes, then you can call me whatever the hell you want.”
I watch as she mulls it over, silently hoping this girl says yes but also wondering why I care so much. Something tells me that this is going to end in catastrophic failure, but it’s just one more disaster I’m running towards, full force, without any concern for how I come out on the other side.
“Okay, Branson. I’m taking your lead on this. If this is what you want to do, then I’m in.”
I’m not sure what comes over me, but when she says yes, I feel a prickly sensation in my heart, almost as if I’d asked the question for real. Before I can stop myself, I’m using every ounce of strength I have to haul her out of the wheelchair and onto my bed. She gasps in surprise, but I swallow it as I pull her head down, bringing her lips to mine, ignoring the pain as
they mash against my cut lip. Because, right now, all I care about it sealing our deal with a kiss that’s almost as hot as the burning blaze that brought us back together again.
I BARELY had time to register my agreement to keep up this ridiculous engagement scheme when Branson pulled me to him and placed his lips on mine. Like a fool, I melted into his kiss, almost believing it were real. Wanting it to be real. Wishing it were real. And for a split second, it felt like it was. I didn’t miss the way his erection stirred beneath me, and my hands were this close to exploring when I heard a throat clearing behind us. Pulling away, I looked back and saw his brother in the doorway, a sheepish grin on his face. Mortification set in, and I could feel the heat rising on my cheeks at having been caught.
Now that I’m looking between the two brothers, both with amusement on their faces, I want to crawl back to my room and hide.
“Sorry, bro. Didn’t meant to interrupt that moment,” Cohen teases, and Branson simply shrugs.
“Not a problem. You know how I am about PDA, but I needed to get reacquainted with my fiancée,” he says, giving his brother a wink, causing my blush to deepen even further.
I have to wonder if the kiss was for my benefit or his brother’s. Disappointment seeps in at the thought it was for the latter, and I tell myself that I’m an idiot for even caring about who the kiss was for.
Cohen’s smile deepens as he pushes off the doorjamb and enters the room, taking a chair on the other side of Branson’s bed. He studies us, and I feel uncomfortable under his curious gaze. “So, engaged, huh? What the hell, man? How could you keep something like this a secret? We didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.”
Clearing my throat, I situate myself back in the wheelchair, using this brotherly conversation as an excuse to leave. “Umm, I think I’m going to go back to my room and lie down for a while. I’m suddenly feeling exhausted.” Just as I’m about to wheel away, Branson catches my hand, giving me a stern look.
“No.” It’s an order, not a request, and when I look at him, he’s practically glaring at me. Talk about mood swings. “What I mean is, baby, I think you should be here when I tell him about it. You can fill in any blanks that might have been knocked out of my brain when I hit my head on the pavement.”
