Page 46 of Broken Roads (Hard to Handle #1)

Bradley

H ospital waiting rooms are designed to make you feel like you're suspended in time.

The same outdated magazines. The same muted TV in the corner playing daytime shows no one watches.

The same vending machine with chips that probably expired a decade ago.

I've been sitting in this particular purgatory for two days now, only leaving to shower and change, and even then I'm back within the hour, terrified I'll miss something important.

My body feels like it's been hollowed out, every ounce of energy sucked dry by the constant worry that's become my only companion. Well, not my only companion.

Hailey shifts beside me, her shoulder brushing mine as she turns a page in her book.

She hasn't left my side since Dad collapsed, not even when Sebastian insisted on transferring him to this fancy hospital in the city once the local doctors declared him stable enough to move.

I fought it at first, but even I had to admit Sebastian's hospital has better equipment, better specialists, better everything.

Just one more way my brother had to be right.

"You should try to sleep," Hailey murmurs, not looking up from her book. "You look like hell."

I snort, running a hand over my face. My stubble has officially crossed into beard territory. "Thanks for the compliment, sunshine."

"Not a compliment," she says, finally glancing up at me. Her eyes are tired too, dark circles underneath that match my own, but they're still warm when they meet mine. "Just the truth. You've barely slept since we got here."

"Neither have you." I reach for her hand, our fingers intertwining with a familiarity that still surprises me.

Two days ago, we were tangled together under the stars, discovering each other's bodies for the first time.

Now we're here, our newfound intimacy tested by crisis before it had a chance to find solid ground.

"I've grabbed a few hours," she argues, squeezing my fingers. "You, on the other hand, just sit and stare at the wall whenever I doze off. The nurses told me."

"I can't sleep," I admit, lowering my voice. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him on the floor. How gray his face looked. How his hand felt in mine." I swallow hard. "How fucking useless I was while Sebastian took charge."

Hailey's free hand comes up to cup my cheek, forcing me to look at her. "You were not useless. You were there. You held his hand. You called the ambulance."

"After Sebastian told me to."

She shakes her head, refusing to let me wallow.

"You're being too hard on yourself. Of course Sebastian knew what to do, he's a doctor.

That's his job." Her thumb traces the dark circle under my eye.

"And your job right now is to take care of yourself so you can be there for your dad when he wakes up. "

Dad.

The doctors—Sebastian's colleagues, all impossibly young and serious in their white coats—say he's stabilized. That the tests are promising. That we should be "cautiously optimistic." Whatever the fuck that means. Medical speak for "we don't want to commit to saying he'll be fine."

"I don't know what I'd do without you here," I tell her, the words slipping out before I can catch them. "These past two days... having you beside me..." I trail off, unsure how to express what her presence means.

A smile touches her lips. "Where else would I be?"

That simple question hits me square in the chest. Where else would she be? As if there's no question that her place is at my side during the worst moments of my life.

Lifting our joined hands, I press a kiss to her knuckles. "Thank you. For being here. For not running when things got hard."

She leans into me, finding that perfect spot on my shoulder. "No place I'd rather be, cowboy."

For a moment, we sit in comfortable silence.

The TV drones on about a cooking show. Someone's phone chirps from across the room.

A nurse pushes a cart past the waiting area, wheels squeaking against the too-clean floor.

Hailey's warmth against me is the only thing that feels real, the only anchor in this sterile, clinical nightmare.

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering against the soft skin of her cheek. She turns her face into my touch, eyes closing briefly. In this moment, I can almost forget where we are, why we're here. Almost.

"Bradley."

Sebastian's voice shatters the moment. I look up to find my brother standing in the doorway, looking every inch the respected doctor in his white coat and neatly pressed shirt. His face betrays nothing—no fatigue, no worry, just professional detachment.

"We need to talk," he says, hands sliding into the pockets of his coat.

My jaw tightens automatically. Two days of passing each other in hallways, of terse updates delivered in medical jargon, of carefully maintaining distance while orbiting the same crisis. Now he wants to talk?

"About Dad?" I ask, already straightening in my seat, alarm prickling along my spine.

"Yes," Sebastian answers, then glances at Hailey. "Privately, if possible."

The implication that she's not family, not entitled to information about Dad, makes something hot and angry flare in my chest. I open my mouth to tell him exactly where he can shove his privacy, but Hailey squeezes my hand in warning.

"I could use some coffee anyway," she says, already standing. "The cafeteria's on the ground floor, right?"

Sebastian nods. "The coffee's terrible, but the tea is decent."

"Good to know." She smiles, that easy, genuine smile that somehow works on everyone, even my brother, whose mouth twitches in response.

She turns to me, bending to press a quick kiss to my forehead. "Play nice," she whispers, too low for Sebastian to hear.

I watch her walk away, her confidence evident in every step despite the exhaustion I know she feels.

Only when she disappears around the corner do I turn back to face my brother.

Standing, I roll my shoulders that are stiff from too many hours in uncomfortable chairs, and cross my arms over my chest.

"You wanted to talk," I grit out. "So talk."

Sebastian shakes his head, glancing around the waiting room.

"Not here." Then without waiting for my response, he turns and walks away, clearly expecting me to follow.

Twenty years later, and he still assumes I'll fall in line behind him.

The worst part is I do, trailing after him like we're kids again, him leading some adventure I'm too stubborn to back out of.

He navigates the hospital corridors with the ease of someone who belongs here, nodding to staff who greet him.

Meanwhile, I feel like an imposter in my dusty jeans and boots.

We ride the elevator in silence, the tension between us thick enough to choke on. When the doors slide open on the top floor, Sebastian leads me down another hallway, then pushes through a heavy door marked Authorized Personnel Only.

"Pretty sure I'm not authorized," I mutter.

"You're with me."

The door opens to a small balcony overlooking the city. Up here, the constant antiseptic smell of the hospital gives way to fresh air and the faint scent of exhaust from the streets below.

Sebastian moves to the railing, resting his forearms on the metal as he stares out at the view.

Reluctantly, I join him at the railing, maintaining enough distance that our shadows don't touch on the concrete beneath us.

"I come here to think," he says finally, breaking the silence. "When I lose a patient. Or save one." He glances at me. "It's my version of your bench in the woods."

The reference to my thinking spot catches me off guard. "How do you know about that?"

"Dad mentioned it. In one of his calls."

I didn't know they were in contact. The realization that Dad had a private connection with Sebastian all these years sits like a stone in my gut.

"So," I say, crossing my arms. "You dragged me up here to talk. Start talking."

Sebastian exhales slowly, still looking out at the city. "I've rehearsed this conversation a thousand times over the years. Had it all planned out." A bitter laugh escapes him. "Now I can't remember a damn word of it."

"Try starting with why you left without saying goodbye," I suggest, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "Or why you never came back until now."

He nods, accepting the challenge. "I left because I was drowning.

" The words come out gruff. "Every day on that ranch felt like trying to breathe underwater.

" He drums his fingers against the railing.

"You were born for that life, Brad. It was in your blood from the start.

The way you could just... know things. What a horse was thinking.

When a storm was coming. How to fix anything with baling wire and determination. "

I say nothing, just watch the sun glint off his expensive watch as his hands move.

"But me? I was always the square peg." His voice drops lower. "Do you know how it feels to try so hard at something and still be shit at it? To watch your little brother excel effortlessly while you're just... failing? Every day?"

"So you ran." It’s the same accusation I hurled at him two days ago, but quieter now.

"I escaped," he corrects. "To something I could be good at.

Something that made sense to me." He finally turns to face me fully.

"I didn't plan to leave without saying goodbye.

But that night, I packed my bag and looked at your door across the hall, and I just..

. couldn't. Couldn't face you. Couldn't bear to see the disappointment in your eyes when I told you I was choosing something else over the ranch. Over our family."

The honesty in his voice chips away at the armor I've built around this wound.

"You left me with everything." The words scrape my throat.

"Dad was getting older. The ranch was struggling.

And suddenly it was all on me." I turn to look at him, needing him to understand.

"Do you have any idea what that felt like?

To wake up and find that note? To have to tell Dad his golden boy had ditched us in the middle of the night? "

Sebastian flinches. "Dad always understood why I had to go."

"Yeah, well, he didn't have much choice, did he? One son gone, the other one better not fuck off too." The bitterness rises in me like bile. "You got to chase your dreams while I buried mine."

His eyebrows lift. "You had dreams besides the ranch?"

The genuine surprise in his voice makes me laugh. The sound is harsh even to my own ears. "Of course I did. Engineering. Had big dreams to go to Montana State." I shake my head. "But someone had to stay. Someone had to be the responsible one."

"Fuck," Sebastian whispers. "I didn't know."

"How could you? You never asked." I turn back to the view, suddenly exhausted. "Never called, never visited except that one time when Dad had surgery, and even then you were gone before he woke up."

Sebastian is quiet for a long moment. "I wanted to come back," he finally says. "So many times. But the longer I stayed away, the harder it got. And then there was the guilt."

"Guilt?"

"For leaving you with everything. For taking the easy way out."

A laugh bursts out of me. "You think becoming a doctor was the easy way out?"

"Compared to what you faced? Yes." His voice is dead serious. "Med school was brutal, but it was the path I chose. You didn't choose to be saddled with the ranch alone. That's on me."

The admission hangs between us, more honest than anything he's said so far. I study his face, looking for the arrogant brother I've built up in my mind over the years. Instead, I find a man who looks as tired as I feel, carrying his own set of regrets.

"I don't hate the ranch," I finally tell him. "Or the life I built there. I just resented doing it alone."

"And I resented being the failure," Sebastian adds quietly. "The son who couldn't measure up to Walker standards."

We fall silent again, but it's different now. Less hostile.

"I want to build something now," Sebastian murmurs. "Between us. I know it's twenty years too late, but—"

The balcony door swings open, cutting him off. A young woman in scrubs steps out, clutching a folder to her chest. Her eyes widen when she sees us.

"Dr. Walker," she says, practically vibrating with nervous energy. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but the results came back from your father's tests, and Dr. Patel said you wanted to see them right away."

Sebastian straightens immediately, the vulnerable brother disappearing behind the mask of the competent doctor. "Thank you, Lisa. I'll take those."

She hands over the folder and retreats quickly, casting a curious glance at me before the door closes behind her.

Sebastian flips the folder open, scanning the pages with practiced efficiency. I watch his face, searching for clues, but his expression gives nothing away.

"Well?" I demand when I can't stand the silence any longer. "What does it say?"

He looks up. "It's atrial fibrillation. Basically, his heart is beating irregularly, which caused the collapse. It's serious, but manageable with medication and lifestyle changes."

"So he's going to be okay?"

"He's going to need to take it easier," Sebastian cautions. "Reduce stress. Maybe step back from some of the more physical aspects of running the ranch." A small smile touches his lips. "But yes, with proper care, he should have many good years ahead of him."

Relief crashes through me so powerfully that I have to grip the railing to stay upright. Dad's going to be okay. The knowledge unlocks something in my chest, some tight, twisted thing that's been choking me for two days.

"Thank you," I manage, the words inadequate but all I have. "For bringing him here. For making sure he got the best care."

Sebastian nods, accepting my gratitude with unexpected grace. "He's my father too."

Four words. So obvious they shouldn't mean anything. And yet they bridge something between us—an acknowledgment that despite everything, we still share this bond, this love for the stubborn old man lying in a hospital bed eight floors below.

"Come on let’s get back inside," Sebastian suggests, tucking the folder under his arm. "We can tell him together when he’s awake."

I nod, pushing away from the railing. As we move toward the door, I walk beside my brother rather than behind him. It's a small change, but it feels like the first step on a very long road back to something we both lost twenty years ago.