It seemed semi-ridiculous to have a house phone these days, but I kept it just in case. The cost of a landline was less than refilling the minutes on my cell phone and when those ran out, at least I had the peace of mind of having a backup in case my mom needed to get in touch with me.
Or Brandon, my heart supplied, even though my brain knew better.
Once I managed to wrestle the coat off, I dropped it carelessly to the floor and pressed the button to play the message. My mom’s cheery voice soon filled my apartment.
‘Hi, sweetie! I just tried your cell but I guess it was turned off. I’m just calling to wish you an early happy birthday since Harold and I will be going out of town next week. I love you—call me!’
I had almost forgotten about my looming birthday. I didn’t want to accept turning twenty-nine just yet because that meant that thirty was right behind it. It also meant that I had to accept that my ten year plan had been totally shot to shit.
No man, no family, no dream job. Just the same depressing existence, day after day.
I opened my freezer and reached for the bottle of cheap vodka I had hidden there, but paused before my fingers touched the glass. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, willing myself to not reach for alcohol to stifle my misery for the millionth time.
It was a battle I lost fairly often, but today, I managed to win it. I slammed the door shut and opened the door of the fridge, scowling when I realized how empty it was.
I closed the door and resigned myself to walking down the block to grab a hot dog for dinner, but decided to return my mom’s call first. Ever since Brandon went missing without a trace, she would get paranoid if I didn’t promptly return her call. I dialed the familiar number and waited for her to answer.
“Hi sweetie! I was starting to get a little worried.”
I rolled my eyes at the expected comment. “I’m fine, Mom. I was at work.”
“Another double?”
“Yep. But it’s not important. Thanks for the early birthday wishes.”
“I wanted to call you on your actual birthday, but Harold says that we might not get cell service on the boat and I can’t even imagine what those cruise people would charge us to use theirs. Any plans for the big day?”
What’s the best way to admit to your mother that you’re probably spending your birthday alone and drunk off your ass?
“None yet, but I’m sure I’ll find something to do.”
“I’m sure you will, dear. Perhaps you’ll make plans with a nice young man?”
I almost wished I had told her the truth about being drunk just to avoid this conversation. It was the same one we had at least twice a year, usually on a holiday. Mom demanded to know why I hadn’t found a man in a city as populated as New York and would proceed to tell me that if I couldn’t find someone to settle down with myself, she just happened to know the most perfect man for me back home in Bellville.
As if I would walk away from city life to go back to a small town that felt less and less like home with each passing day.
“Mom, can we not do this today? I’ve had a rough night.”
She let out a harsh breath and I could just imagine her lips pursing together with disappointment on the other end of the line.
“I just wish you would come back and meet this nice boy at the church. He’s such a sweetheart—and a looker, too. I just know you two would hit it off.”
Probably not as well as Brandon and I did.
I banished that thought the second it popped into my head.
“Mom—”
“I know, I know. Stop meddling. Forgive me for being worried that my only daughter is unhappy and alone.”
Another sigh escaped past my lips and I said, “Look, if I don’t meet someone before I turn thirty, then I’ll gladly accept your meddling. But only if you promise that you’ll stop bugging me about it until then.”
I could practically hear her smile. “Well, all right. I guess I’ll tell that boy that you’ll go on a date with him in fifty-three weeks.”
“Mom!” I cried incredulously.
“What? It’s not like you’ve had any luck meeting a man in the six years you’ve been in that city.”
I fidgeted nervously, eyeing the bowl containing my keys and wishing I had gone for a hot dog before I made the call.
“I know, but maybe this year will be different.”
Mom snorted. “You keep telling yourself that.”
“You’re so mean.”
“Only because I love you.”
My heart softened, knowing that despite all the joking and her meddling, she really only wanted the best for me.
“I know, Mom. I love you, too.”
“Well, I’ll let you go before I start rambling. Again, happy early birthday!”
“Thanks. And Mom?”
“Yes, dear?”
I hesitated—not sure whether or not I really wanted to open up this can of worms. It had been well over a year since I’d last mentioned him and I didn’t want to upset her when she seemed so cheery. But I still felt compelled to ask.
“Have you or Harold heard anything from Brandon?”
There was a long pause and I somehow knew she was surprised I had asked. Then she hummed with recognition and said, “That’s right. It’ll be five years next month.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Her sigh was sad. “We haven’t heard anything since that last letter and that was over three years ago. I wish things were different, but we’ve pretty much... let him go. If he wants to see us, he will.”
Tears were gathering in my eyes and I dug the heel of my hand harshly into them, trying to clear away the wetness before I started legitimately crying.
Because once I started crying about Brandon—it was nearly impossible for me to stop.
“All right. I just... I wanted to ask. I was thinking about him earlier.”
“We still think about him, too, sweetie. All the time. And if we ever hear from him, we’ll let you know immediately.”
“Thanks, mom. Have fun on the cruise.”
“I’ll try. Talk to you in a few weeks!”
After a quick round of good-byes and a final happy birthday wish, I placed the phone back in the cradle and stared down at the keys still sitting in their little bowl.
My appetite now lost, I latched the deadbolt on my door and went to lie down in bed, trying to get the mental image of Brandon’s startlingly blue eyes out of my head long enough to fall asleep.
Chapter 3
May 2004
“Vanessa, open the door.”
“Go away!” I shouted, the words muffled by the pillow my face was pressed into.
“You open this door right now, young lady! Or I’ll have Harold break it down!”
Realizing that whatever my mother wanted must have been serious, I rolled off my bed and went to the door. As soon as I unlocked it—she burst inside, Harold hot on her heels.
“What’s up?” I asked, looking between the two with a confused frown.
“What’s up?” she parroted back, her voice tight with disbelief. “Why don’t you tell us ‘what’s up?’ We hear you didn’t get back until after one o’clock last night.”
Harold chimed in before I had a chance to explain myself. “I know we agreed to loosen the reins with the curfew because you’re technically an adult now, but you’re also still in high school. You need to respect our boundaries and you know we really don’t want you out after eleven.”
I felt betrayed that Brandon had obviously ratted me out, but refused to give in so easily. I held my ground and crossed my arms over my chest.
“It’s not like it was a school night. And if you cared about what time I got home so much, why didn’t either of you wait up for me?”
“Because we chose to trust you instead. We won’t be making that mistake again. You’re grounded for three weeks. Give me you car keys—now.”
My eyes widened and I shook my head from side to side. How did this go so wrong
so fast>
“Look, I’m sorry. I really am. But prom is in two weeks. You can’t just—”
“Oh, yes we can,” Harold cut in, holding up a finger and signaling me to be quiet. “But—and this is just a but—if you can behave for the next two weeks... I suppose we can lift your punishment for your prom.”
“Really?” I asked, looking at my mom for confirmation.
“I suppose that would be fine. But you are grounded until then! That means no going anywhere other than school unless you’re with one of us or your brother. If you go out by yourself—that’s it. No prom. End of discussion.”
My brother is the reason I’m in this mess, I thought sourly.
“I promise to be good. And again, I’m sorry.”
They both seemed pleased that I was genuinely sorry, so they began to shuffle towards the door, leaving me alone to begin serving my punishment. As they were walking out, I spotted Brandon lingering in the hallway looking guilty.
I narrowed my eyes at him as Harold pulled the door shut.
* * *
February 2015
“This shift is never going to end,” I whined as I sat down in the break room next to Janice. “Why do we do this again?”
“Well, I got a baby to feed and your ass has bills to pay.”
“Right,” I said with a nod of my head as I slipped my sore feet out of my shoes and attempted to massage away some of the terrible ache. “Bills. You know what? I think I’d like to become a hippie.”
Janice laughed and slid an unopened bottle of water across the table to me as she said, “You wouldn’t last a day out there, girl. I can’t even picture you with dirty clothes and greasy hair.”
“You’re probably right. But it’s a still nice thought. Can you imagine never having to worry about money or bills again?”
She nodded in agreement and I took a generous swallow of the water she gave me before I put my shoes back on and returned to my feet. I shifted my weight back and forth between the two until my pager chimed early—the code number signaling that I was needed in ER right away.
“Shit,” I cursed under my breath.
Janice gave me a knowing and sympathetic smile. “Good luck.”
ER calls were the worst. Usually if I was called into ER, something was terribly wrong. Having no time to mentally prepare myself for whatever I was about to face just made it even more awful.
* * *
Later that night, I cried myself to sleep for the first time in a long while.
A brutal car accident brought in five patients all at once—every doctor we had available was called into the ER along with a number of nurses. The father and the driver who ran the red light and t-boned the family’s small car went straight to the morgue, having died on impact.
The doctors did everything they could to save the rest of the family, but the little girl who was sitting behind her father on the driver’s side couldn’t be saved. The mother had barely stabilized enough to awaken, only to suffer a fatal heart attack when she turned and saw her daughter’s body being covered with a sheet.
The only survivor of the accident was the ten year old son. He was pretty banged up, but alive.
Once I was sure he was in stable condition and his grandparents arrived at the hospital, I packed up all the stuff in my locker and told my boss to have me replaced immediately.
I just couldn’t take it anymore. I quit.
I wanted to help people, but I knew my limits. When I had signed up to take nursing classes in my college years, I had imagined myself cleaning up sick patients or giving shots to young, screaming children.
Not watching people die and being powerless to stop it.
When I awoke the next morning, I felt haggard from all the crying I did the night before. But even with the depression of what I had witnessed and even though I had no idea how the hell I was going to pay my bills now—there was an underlying sense of freedom deep inside me that I hadn’t felt since I was a teenager.
* * *
May 2004
It’d been a week since I’d been grounded and eight days since I’d spoken a word to Brandon. Every time he tried to apologize, I just walked off, leaving him talking to either my back or himself.
I didn’t care what he had to say. Because of him, I had come dangerously close to missing my senior prom. It was unforgivable. And because fate was extra cruel, now I couldn’t even leave the house to buy a prom dress without him.
Wonderful.
I thought about asking my mom or Harold to take me, but I could foresee just how well that would play out. Harold wouldn’t be interested at all and he’d likely be a little pissed at me for making him go.
Mom was an even worse option—I could just imagine her picking out dresses that she deemed ‘appropriate’ and getting preachy on me every time I grabbed something that showed any amount of skin.
Suppressing a shudder at the thought, I raised my hand and reluctantly knocked on Brandon’s door. It wasn’t a good option by any means, but it was the best of the few that I had.
“Vanessa. I—”
I held up my hand and cut him off. “Don’t you dare apologize. If you really want to start making it up to me, you’ll get dressed and go with me to buy a dress since I’m not allowed off the property without supervision.”
He nodded without protest. “I’ll be out in five minutes.”
The door closed and I smiled, glad that my plan had gone over just as intended.
Of course I knew I wouldn’t be able to shut him up once we were trapped in a car together. I was going to be forced to listen to his apology whether I wanted to or not. I made my way to the kitchen and let my mom know that Brandon and I were going dress shopping, then waited for him by the front door.
He emerged a few minutes later in a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt I had never seen him wear before. It was a little small for his frame, clinging tightly to his chest and stomach, showing off the faintest outline of the abs he was working to get. I sucked in a slow breath and looked away, not bothering to speak to him before I opened the door and made a beeline for the car.
Brandon slid into the passenger seat just as I was turning over the key and before he could open his mouth and give the apology I didn’t want to hear, I cranked up the dial of the radio and drowned out both his voice and my thoughts.
He caught the hint immediately—looking at me with a sad smile as I put the car in reverse and started the twenty minute drive to the mall.
* * *
I was perusing the racks of dresses in the fifth store we had visited when Brandon finally dared to break the tense silence that loomed between us.
“You can’t ignore me forever.”
I tore my eyes away from the red dress I was staring at and raised an eyebrow in his direction. “That sounds like a challenge.”
With that, I turned away and ignored the sound of his frustrated sigh. Something in the distance caught my eye and I moved without thinking—quickly closing in on a gorgeous emerald green gown.
I fished inside the dress for the price tag and winced when I realized it was two hundred dollars over my budget. I looked around the rest of the nearby racks and realized that it wasn’t meant to be a prom dress. I had accidently wandered into the designer section of evening gowns, made for nights at the ballet or something equally fancy and romantic.
With a heavy sigh, I stepped away from the dress and turned to head back to the prom dresses. Before I could walk away, Brandon grasped my upper arm and spun me around to face him.
“What’s wrong?”
My anger at him temporarily forgotten, I raised my free hand in the direction of the beautiful gown. “It’s my dream dress, but it’s way out of my budget. We need to get back to the prom section. It’s cheaper.”
Once my explanation was over, I yanked my arm away from him and made my way back. I flipped through racks of dresses ranging from bridal-poofy to downright slutty before letting out a groan and raising my clenched fists, s
haking them in frustration.
“Why can’t I find a fucking dress?” I heatedly whispered to the rack of clothing, willing it to give me an answer.
A throat cleared behind me and I spun around, eyes widening as I saw Brandon gently cradling the green dress in his arms to keep it from dragging across the floor.
“Try it on,” he said, shoving the dress towards me.
I frowned and shook my head. “No, it’s just going to depress me more.”
“If you like it, I’ll pay the difference. Just try it on.”
Denial of his generous offer was right on the tip of my tongue, but the beautiful dress was practically begging me to try it on. I checked the tag and raised my eyebrows when I saw he pulled the right size, looking up at him questioningly.
“This is the fifth store we’ve been in. I was paying attention,” he explained with a shrug.
I sighed in resignation and took the dress. “Fine, I’ll try it on. It probably won’t fit right anyways.”
In the changing room, I handled the dress with care, afraid that I would accidentally rip the thin, satiny fabric and ruin it. I took my time removing my clothes and sliding the dress up my body, just barely managing to get the back zipper up by myself. Once it was on, I turned to face the mirror and gasped.
The dress fit like a glove—like it had been made especially for me. I smiled at my reflection while mentally debating about accepting Brandon’s offer.
I could just ask him for the difference as a loan and pay him back.
“Vanessa?”
I startled a little at the sound of his voice in the ladies dressing room.
“Yeah?”
“Can I see it?”
Considering he had offered to pay the difference, I figured it was only fair to let him see what he would be buying. I stepped out and found him waiting in the small lobby area of the dressing room, the attendant keeping a close eye on him from the entrance.
Wrecked: A Stepbrother Romance Novel Page 2
