Page 47 of Broken Roads (Hard to Handle #1)

Hailey

I navigate the sterile hospital corridors with two cups of mediocre tea, avoiding eye contact with the harried nurses and shell-shocked family members.

The weight of the past forty-eight hours sits heavy on my shoulders, but not as heavy as the worry that's been etched into Bradley's face since his father collapsed.

I've been bracing myself for World War III every time Bradley and Sebastian occupy the same space, so when I round the corner to the waiting room and spot them standing together without visible bloodshed, I nearly drop both cups in shock.

They're by the window, faces serious but not hostile. No crossed arms. No clenched jaws. Just two men who look exhausted but somehow... lighter. The sight is so unexpected that I pause, giving myself a moment to absorb this miracle before I interrupt it.

Bradley speaks, his voice too low for me to hear the words, but Sebastian nods in response. There's a fragile truce in their body language, the kind that could shatter with one wrong move, but it's there. My shoulders relax slightly and tension, I didn't realize I was carrying, melts away.

Then Bradley looks up and spots me hovering in the doorway.

His entire demeanor transforms—shoulders straightening, eyes brightening, mouth curving into that half-smile that never fails to make my heart skip.

He beckons me over with a small tilt of his head, and I feel a flutter of warmth at the eagerness in his expression.

As I approach, he steps toward me, closing the distance in two long strides. His arm slides around my waist, drawing me against his side with a casual possessiveness that sends a shiver through me. Even after everything we've shared this public claiming still feels new and so very thrilling.

"I'd like you to officially meet my brother," Bradley says, his voice carrying a note of pride that catches me off guard. "Sebastian, this is Hailey Monroe."

Sebastian extends his hand. His smile is polite but genuine. Up close, the resemblance between the brothers is even more striking—same dark eyes, same strong jawline, though Sebastian's is clean-shaven where Bradley's sports several days of stubble.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly," Sebastian says, his grip firm as we shake hands. "Sorry for stealing him away earlier."

"No apology necessary," I reply, balancing the tea cups awkwardly. "Family comes first."

Sebastian's eyebrow lifts slightly as his gaze flickers between Bradley and me with renewed interest. "So I'm learning," he says with a small smile. "Again."

Bradley's fingers tighten at my waist, but when I glance up at him, his expression remains neutral. Whatever happened during their private conversation has shifted something fundamental between them.

"How's your father doing?" I ask, offering one of the tea cups to Bradley, who accepts it with a grateful nod.

"The news is good," Sebastian answers. "Atrial fibrillation. Serious but manageable with medication and lifestyle changes."

"He's going to be okay," Bradley adds, and the relief in his voice makes my chest ache. "He'll need to take it easier, but he's going to be okay."

"That's wonderful." The words feel inadequate against the magnitude of what this means for the Walker family.

Sebastian glances at his watch—a sleek, expensive-looking thing that probably costs more than a month of my salary. "He's still resting but should be awake soon."

Bradley nods, taking a sip of the tea I brought him. His nose wrinkles slightly at the taste, but he drinks it anyway.

"In the meantime," Sebastian continues, sliding his hands into the pockets of his white coat, "I was wondering if you two would be free for dinner later?

Once Dad's settled for the night." His eyes meet Bradley's.

"We have a lot of catching up to do, and I imagine you could both use a decent meal after hospital cafeteria food for two days. "

The invitation hangs between them—not just an offer of food, but an olive branch, a tentative step toward rebuilding what was broken. Bradley hesitates, uncertainty flickering across his face. I give his waist an encouraging squeeze in what I hope is a small gesture of encouragement.

Bradley looks down at me, something soft and grateful in his eyes, before turning back to his brother. "Yeah," he says, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. "That'd be good. Thanks."

Sebastian's shoulders relax slightly, as if he'd been bracing for rejection. "Great. There's a place not far from here that makes a steak that might even impress a ranch boy like you."

The corner of Bradley's mouth twitches. "I've gotten pretty particular about my beef."

"Trust me," his brother says with a hint of his own smile emerging. "This place knows what they're doing."

I watch this tentative banter unfold between them, this careful dance of two men trying to remember how to be brothers again. It's awkward and halting, and full of landmines they're both trying to avoid.

But it's a start.

"I need to check in with a patient quick," Sebastian says, checking his watch again. "But I’ll be back soon then we can give Dad the good news together."

Bradley nods. "Look forward to it."

As Sebastian walks away, pausing to speak with a nurse at the station, I turn to face Bradley fully, searching his features for any sign of distress or regret.

"You okay?" I ask softly, reaching up to brush my fingers against his stubbled jaw.

He catches my hand and presses a kiss to my palm that makes my breath catch. "Better now," he murmurs against my skin. "Having you here...it makes all of this bearable."

His gaze meet mine, those dark eyes filled with a tenderness that makes my heart squeeze painfully in my chest. Whatever is happening between us—this connection that deepens with every hour we spend together—feels too precious, too fragile to name just yet. But it's real, and it's growing.

"That's what I'm here for." I try to keep my voice light despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm me. "Moral support and terrible tea."

His laugh is quiet but genuine, the sound wrapping around me like a warm blanket. "You're so much more than that, sunshine," he says, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "So much more."

***

The key card slides into the motel room lock with a quiet beep, and we stumble inside, both of us exhausted but lighter than we've been in days.

I flip on the bedside lamp, casting the generic room in a soft glow that somehow makes it feel more like ours after two nights of collapsing here between hospital visits.

Bradley shrugs off his jacket, tossing it over the chair by the window, and I watch him with a small smile.

The permanent crease between his eyebrows has softened, his shoulders no longer carrying the weight of the world.

Dinner with Sebastian wasn't perfect—too many years of silence to erase in one meal—but it was a start, a tentative bridge being rebuilt between brothers who've forgotten how to speak the same language.

"Fuck, I'm tired," Bradley sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. His stubble has crossed firmly into beard territory, but somehow it only makes him more devastatingly attractive. Even exhausted, he's the most beautiful man I've ever seen.

"But good tired," I observe, kicking off my shoes. "Not the crushing weight of the world tired like before."

He nods, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "Yeah. Good tired." His eyes follow me as I move around the room, gathering my toiletries. "Sebastian's not as much of an asshole as I remembered."

A laugh burst out of me. "High praise from you, cowboy."

"The highest," he agrees, and I can hear the smile in his voice even with my back turned.

I head toward the bathroom, ready to wash away the hospital antiseptic smell that seems permanently lodged in my nose, when Bradley's catches my wrist. The touch is gentle but insistent, stopping me mid-step. I turn, question forming on my lips, but it dies when I see the expression on his face.

In one smooth motion, he pulls me against his chest, arms encircling me in a hold that feels like coming home. His heartbeat thumps steady and strong beneath my ear, and I melt into him as my own arms sliding around his waist.

"I don't know what I would've done without you these past few days," he murmurs into my hair. "Having you by my side through all of this... Fuck, Hailey, it means more than I can say."

His vulnerability catches me off guard. This is the man who fought me at every turn when I first arrived at the ranch, who wore his stubbornness like armor. Now he's holding me like I'm his anchor in the storm.

Words feel inadequate, so I respond the only way that makes sense. Rolling onto my toes, I press my mouth against his. The kiss starts sweet and gentle but sweet doesn't last long between us.

His hands tighten at my waist, dragging me closer as the kiss deepens. My fingers slide into his hair, tugging slightly at the strands in the way I've learned makes him groan. His tongue slides against mine, and just like that, exhaustion evaporates beneath the heat building between us.

"Bradley," I gasp as his mouth leaves mine to trail hot kisses down my neck.

"Need you," he growls against my skin. "Been aching to get my hands on you all fucking day."

He finds the hem of my shirt and tugs impatiently. I lift my arms, letting him pull it over my head and toss it aside. My bra follows seconds later, his deft fingers unhooking it with a practiced ease that sends a thrill through me.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs, cupping my breasts. His thumbs brush over my nipples, drawing them into tight peaks that make me whimper. "Every inch of you."