Wrecked: A Stepbrother Romance Novel

by Arabella Abbing

  While I sat alone in the silence, a random idea popped into my head. It was a little too late to put into motion and I was pretty sure that Brandon needed the time alone to lick his wounds, but I could definitely put the plan into action the next day.

  Brandon had been right all those years ago when he said I felt like I never deserved him and the same was true now, probably even more so now than back then.

  But everyone deserved a second chance—even me.

  Even if I honestly didn’t believe that I deserved that chance after everything we’d been through, some part of Brandon must have. If he hadn’t, he never would have invited me to be the one to take care of him.

  In the end, maybe it wouldn’t work out. But I truly believed that we needed each other—that we were meant to be—and all I needed to do now was make damn sure that Brandon knew it, too.

  If it meant putting my heart on the line and giving him the opportunity to break it, so be it.

  It was time to take a chance.

  Chapter 15

  It was harder than I thought it would be to leave Brandon alone after he’d gone to bed the night before. I had followed his lead and tried to sleep as well, but wound up tossing and turning as I mulled over the details of my plan and obsessed over all the possible outcomes.

  Worst case—Brandon rejected me and my heart shattered into a million pieces.

  Which was pretty much just turning the tables from where we had been years ago. He had given me a chance, then he cut me out of his life when I refused to take it. If it happened to play out the same way again, I would simply go back to my life in New York and continue on. Maybe I’d give Shaw a call and take up nursing at his practice. I’d find something to distract myself.

  My phone ringing early in the morning was not the type of distraction I wanted. I knew who it was without even looking, but a quick glance at the screen made my blood run cold.

  Mom calling.

  I couldn’t answer because I couldn’t lie to her, but I also knew I couldn’t ignore her call for longer than two days without scaring the shit out of her. Which meant I needed to talk to Brandon about what the hell I was supposed to tell her.

  The missed call notification felt like extra pressure weighing down my shoulders as I drug my tired ass out of bed and hopped into the shower.

  By the time I finished blow-drying my hair and twisting it into a large clip for the time being, I wandered downstairs to find the kitchen empty. It really wasn’t a surprise that Brandon was already hard at work, but it just made my task all the more difficult. I needed to find an opening to speak to him as soon as possible.

  I ate my breakfast robotically while giving myself a much needed pep talk and trying to focus on the possible outcome if my idea went well.

  Best case—We lived happily ever after.

  As I chewed my toast, I reminded myself that the possibility of the best outcome was well worth the risk of the worst.

  * * *

  When I entered his office, my eyes immediately locked on Brandon with laser-like precision. The phone was pressed to his ear with his good shoulder and when he glanced up from his computer screen and saw me, he held up a hand in an attempt to stop me from entering.

  I responded my holding up my wrist and pointing to it, trying to silently remind him that it was time for his meds and for me to check up on him.

  He grimaced slightly, but waved me before holding up a single finger while he spoke lowly into the receiver. I watched his face drop into a frown before he rolled his eyes and said, “It’ll wait. I have to go.” He placed the receiver back into the cradle without even waiting for a response. “Sorry about that.”

  “Not a problem,” I told him as I cautiously rounded his desk and handed him the low dose of painkillers and a bottle of water. “Sorry for interrupting, but it’s kind of my job.”

  “I know,” he said before accepting the pills and downing them. “Do you need to look at my leg?”

  I shook my head and held up the tube of antibiotic ointment. “Chest.”

  His throat bobbed, but he pushed his chair back and slowly began to unbutton his dress shirt. While I almost made a quip about how amusing it was that he still dressed like he was going to work in an office even from a remote location, the sight of him undoing his shirt made my mouth too dry to speak.

  The plan. Don’t forget the plan. Stop getting side-tracked!

  Once the buttons were free, he tugged the shirt out of his slacks and separated it fully, pulling it down off the scarred shoulder to give me better access. I shoved away my naughty thoughts and pulled on my gloves, gently peeling off the thin bandages that covered the scars. While I dabbed the ointment onto his skin, I tried not to think about how intently he was staring at me.

  “Do you have a lot of work to do today?”

  “No, I’ve pretty much caught up on everything I missed. Today is fairly normal.”

  “Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  I stopped dabbing and looked up, hoping I didn’t look as shattered as I felt. Judging by the look on his face, I didn’t do a very good job of hiding it.

  “Please?”

  He looked torn, but still nodded. His eyes were wide and concerned as I resumed my duties and I wondered if he somehow was able to sense that this was more than just a dinner.

  “Is five o’clock good for you?”

  Brandon let out a disbelieving burst of laughter. “Dinner at five? Are we sixty now?”

  I swatted at his arm and shook my head. “No, I just want to eat early tonight.”

  He didn’t look entirely convinced, but he let it go regardless. After I finished applying the cream and reached for the gauze, he stopped me by grabbing my wrist.

  “I don’t think I need the bandages anymore.”

  Both of my eyebrows raised in surprise. “Are you sure?”

  He lowered my wrist and nodded. “I looked at them last night. They... They aren’t as healed as I wish they were, but they don’t look as bad as they did.”

  “I never saw the before pictures so I really can’t compare.”

  Brandon snorted. “I really wish Shaw wouldn’t have asked me for them, but he promised not to attach my face or my name with them. And I understand why he wants them. After all, before and after photos of his work are the reason I chose him.”

  “He did a damn good job. After a few months, they’ll barely be noticeable.”

  The words were meant to soothe him, but they only deepened his frown. Even though he nodded in agreement, his tone was dark as he said, “Yes, but there’s still my face to scare the shit out of everyone.”

  “Don’t do that,” I commanded, slapping him on the arm again then making a face when I realized I just wiped the greasy ointment residue on his bicep. When Brandon looked down and saw it, he laughed. A real, legitimate laugh that made my heart soar.

  “Dinner is at five and what you’re wearing will be perfect. Now get back to work and try not to be so negative.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice still light with laughter as he wiped off the ointment and adjusted his shirt to stay out of the way while he worked.

  I didn’t bother telling him that he’d be better off wearing light bandages during the day and simply sleeping bare. I certainly wasn’t going to complain about the opportunity to see his bare chest more often.

  With a smirk, I headed down to the kitchen to take stock of what he had available for me to cook. There wasn’t a surplus of food available, but it was enough for me to throw together something relatively simple.

  Which was probably for the best anyways considering I wasn’t entirely sure I’d be able to keep my stomach from flipping throughout an entire meal and what I had planned for after.

  * * *

  At ten minutes before five, dinner had been finished and I rushed upstairs for the final bit of preparation left before our date.

  Yes, I was referring to
it as a date even though we hadn’t bothered to define it. Even with his lack of knowledge in regards to intimacy, I was sure that he would get the message as soon as he saw me. Now all I needed to do was summon a bit of last minute courage to make sure I actually went through with the plan.

  While I was determined as hell, I was also terrified. This was either going to make us or break me.

  You can do it. You have to do it.

  I nodded to myself and stole a final look in the mirror. The green dress he’d bought for me still fit flawlessly even though my form had slightly changed since all those years ago. I’d also taken time to make my hair look nice, but kept the makeup to a minimal. Brandon always seemed to favor a more natural look, but then again, that might have changed over the past decade.

  Willing away those thoughts, I took a deep breath and marched over to the bedroom door. No point in prolonging the inevitable.

  The walk to the dining room where I had set up our dinner felt eerily similar to walking the plank. I was about to take a huge leap with my feelings, but I still wasn’t entirely convinced that wearing the dress would have a good effect. It was probably going to make the dinner itself more awkward than it would have been otherwise.

  Maybe I should change into something else now and put the dress on after dinner.

  But the door to the dining room was within my field of vision and I could hear Brandon moving through the room, obviously having already been to the kitchen and figuring out that we were dining more formally. I wondered if he noticed the distinct lack of wine on the table yet or not.

  I wouldn’t lie and say I hadn’t thought about bringing it to the table or even slinging back a glass or two before dinner for the extra boost of courage, but I ultimately decided against it. If it went well and we happened to kiss, I didn’t want Brandon to think that the alcohol had anything to do with my wanting to be with him. This was all me. Real and sober.

  With that in mind, I strode forward, keeping my head high even though I wanted to curl up under a rock. Brandon’s feet had stopped moving and I didn’t want to be any later to my own dinner than I already was.

  When I entered the room, the shift in tension was immediate. He was in the process of reaching for a napkin to drape across his lap when he saw me and froze—eyes going wide with disbelief. Even though I had told him his work attire was appropriate enough, he had changed his shirt to a black button-down that was entirely too tight on his biceps and stretched deliciously across his chest.

  We stayed locked in a freeze-frame moment for what felt like an eternity before he cleared his throat and used the table to push himself into a standing position.

  “You look.... I can’t believe you still have that.”

  “I can’t believe it still fits,” I said breathlessly, ending with a laugh as I moved into the room to sit across from him, trying to pretend like everything was normal and that he wasn’t looking at me the exact same way he did last time I wore this dress. “You look good.”

  He briefly glanced down and smoothed out his shirt, then cleared his throat. “I got ointment all over the one I was wearing earlier. Figured this would be better.”

  I smiled and sat down, gesturing for him to do the same. There was a flash of disappointment that I hoped came from him not being able to move fast enough to pull my chair out for me.

  Once we were seated, I reached for my fork and was just about to start eating when the sound of his voice stopped me.

  “Why did you keep it?”

  “I... If it’s all right with you, I’d rather save this conversation until after dinner. It’s kind of why I wanted to eat so early.”

  “So we’d have time to talk?”

  “Exactly.”

  He nodded curtly and dug into the meal, eyebrows raising in pleasant surprise at the first bite of my chicken piccata.

  “You made this?”

  I couldn’t stop the blush that started to spread. “Yeah. I love cooking.”

  “You’re very good at it.”

  The blush deepened and I could sense his eyes watching me closely, but I ignored it in favor of eating. I knew I needed to get at least some food in my system so I wouldn’t be hungry later, but it was harder than I thought it’d be to put food into my stomach as it twisted with nerves.

  When he realized I wasn’t going to rush through the meal just to get to the talking, he slowed his pace to match mine and thoroughly enjoyed the food. I hoped he didn’t think that I was just trying to stall, even though it was partially true. The emptier my plate got, the heavier the weight on my shoulders felt. The bigger the knot of fear in my stomach grew.

  “I’m full,” I said, pushing my plate forward on the table and reaching for my glass of water to wash down the meal. “I was hoping we could walk out to the beach or something— maybe watch the sunset. We don’t have to go very far,” I added when I saw him open his mouth to argue.

  He smiled and shook his head. “I was going to say that sounds nice. I’ll manage.”

  I took both of our plates and rushed to the kitchen to put them in the dishwater before making my way back towards the dining room. Brandon was already making his way towards the front door and I followed behind him, taking a mental note of the way he preferred to lean on the cane.

  When we reached the door, I stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. He looked as me quizzically as I lifted my feet backward one by one to pull off my heels and discard them, then looked back up at him.

  “Leave the cane here. Come on,” I prodded, easing myself into place by pulling his arm around my shoulders and sliding my arm around his back. When he didn’t seem to catch on to what I was doing, I jokingly said, “I’ll be your crutch.”

  Brandon seemed amused by the prospect and leaned a little more against me, testing the stability of his new ‘crutch’. When he was satisfied, he let go of the cane and reached forward to open the front door. It was a tad bit awkward getting through the threshold together, but after that it only took a matter of steps before we fell into an easy stride.

  I pointed up to the blanket I had spread out not far from the dock and looked up at him for confirmation, taking his nod as the okay to lead him that far. It was a bit difficult maneuvering through the squishy sand, but we went slowly and eventually made it. I helped Brandon ease down to the blanket before settling in beside him. He leaned back until he was nearly flat, only propped up on his elbows as he craned his neck to look up at me.

  “So are you going to tell me why you kept that dress all these years?”

  “I kept it because I loved it. But I haven’t worn it since prom.”

  Brandon was quiet as he looked ahead to watch the sunset. I watched his face carefully for any signs that he was uncomfortable or unhappy, but found none. I idly wondered if it bothered him that I had chosen to sit on his scarred side, but I wasn’t willing to wreck the moment by asking.

  “It meant a lot to me, you know. You helping me buy this dress even though I planned to go with... fuck, I can’t even remember his name,” I said with a laugh as I searched my memory.

  “Trey,” we said at the exact same time.

  When our eyes met and he sensed my confusion, he gave me a tight smile.

  “It’s kind of hard to forget the name of the asshole you chose over me.”

  “I didn’t. Choose him, I mean. I chose no one.”

  The look he gave me was a mixture of disbelief and annoyance, but I continued before he could comment.

  “That night when you walked inside, I just sat on the steps and cried. I never even saw him again. I was just.... I don’t really know how to explain it. I was just so hell-bent on the thought that you being my stepbrother meant we couldn’t ever really work out. I thought it’d be easier to put distance between us than to be completely heartbroken when it all inevitably came crashing down.”

  “And what made you so sure it wouldn’t work out? Did you ever once stop to think about how I felt about it?”

  The tension was star
ting to rise and I hadn’t said anywhere near what I wanted to say, so I attempted to redirect.

  “Brandon, we can sit here all night and talk about the stupidity of my actions in the past, or we can just skip it and think about how things are right now. There’s nothing I can say to make up for it other than I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for every fucked up thing I said and did when we were teenagers, but sitting here with you right now… I can’t help but to think that maybe it was supposed to go down like this.”

  The look on his face was pained, but it eventually melted into acceptance. He nodded in agreement as he said, “Maybe you’re right. The question is—What now?”

  “That’s really up to you. I... I’d like to try,” I said, holding my breath once I finished speaking. It wasn’t eloquent in the least, but the way he was staring into my eyes was making all of the words I had so carefully planned to say fly right out of my mind.

  “Try what? You mean... dating?”

  I smiled, laughing lightly as I said, “I think we kind of already have dated. Or at least it feels that way. I meant more like trying to be a real, legitimate couple.”

  Brandon pushed himself into an upright position, reaching out to grip my shoulder both for support and to keep me from squirming away. He gazed at me with a seriousness he usually reserved for work or Shaw and I swallowed hard.

  “Why me?” he asked quietly, tipping his head to the side while he studied my face. “A woman like you could have her pick. So why haven’t you settled down yet? Why did you even agree to come here?”

  “Because I’m in love with you.”

  Chapter 16

  Everything seemed to freeze all at once before he abruptly sprung into action. He yanked me forward and the suddenness of the movement sent me flying—ending up with me sprawled over his chest while he laid back over the blanket. I didn’t miss his wince of pain from the rough landing, but he didn’t even bother to acknowledge it.