Page 51 of The Bad Brother

B ECAUSE I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO AND because every time I think about leaving and going back to the loft, I start to panic, I decide to stay at the hospital and work.

Thankfully, aside from Orton Redford, it was a light day in the trauma center.

A sprained ankle from sliding into home at the church league co-ed softball game.

Six stitches to the chin for a kid who tried to do a kick flip on her skateboard.

Singed eyebrows and some minor burns for a man who left the propane running on his grill a little too long before he lit the burners.

Thankful to be kept busy, I saw patient after patient, setting bones and stitching wounds, until it was well past dark and I’m swaying on my feet.

“Go home,” Lucy, one of the nurses that work the ER says, looking at me like she already knows what I’m going to say .

“I’m okay,” I tell her, pushing an I can go all night grin onto my face.

“Ma’am, you are not okay,” Lucy says with a laugh. “You’re asleep on your feet like a punch-drunk boxer.”

“I’ll be fine.” Giving myself a mental slap in the face. “I just need some?—”

“Let me rephrase that—” Lucy arches an eyebrow at me. “ go home or I’m going to call Ragnar.”

“I—” Shaking my head, I stop myself from finishing my sentence because what can I say?

I don’t have a home because the place I thought was home isn’t real and the people in it have been lying to me this entire time .

“Okay.” Giving Lucy a nod, I concede because she’s right.

I have to go home. I can’t hide forever.

“I’ll just check in with Mr. Redford before I leave. ”

“Really?” Lucy gives me a narrow-eyed look like I’m trying to pull a fast one. “You’re going home—just like that?”

“Really.” Giving her a bland smile, I nod my head. “I’m going home. Just like that.”

Besides, the last thing I need to do is upgrade myself on Ragnar’s shitlist. Especially now.

Walking away from the nursing station, I make my way to surgical ICU to check on Orton Redford. Giving the door a soft knock before pushing it open, I expect to find Reese sitting bedside, along with her brother, Billy—but she’s nowhere to be seen and the patient is sleeping.

“Reese went down to the cafeteria to grab some coffee,” Billy tells me with a nervous smile. “I think she’s afraid to fall asleep.”

Lifting Mr. Redford’s chart from its sleeve at the foot of his bed, I give him one of my practiced smiles. “I can understand that.” Flipping through, I note that his vitals are good. Stable.

“The nurse came in and gave him some pain meds about an hour ago,” he says, still chatting nervously. “It knocked him out.”

“Good.” I give him another smile, this one a little more genuine. “Sleep is the best thing for him right now.”

“That’s what Reese said.” Swallowing hard, he bobs his head before looking away. “I’ve seen you—you live above the Mill.”

“Yes.” My smile fades a bit so I cover it by looking down to replace the cart. “It’s a temporary arrangement—Jensen was kind enough to give me a place to stay when I needed it.”

“Jen’s a good guy.” Billy bobs his head.

“Most people around here don’t know it but he is.

Did you know he was outside when that bus crash happened last month—saw it happen.

When the ambulances got there, my friend Marty—he’s a paramedic—said him and Cade were pulling people from the wreckage.

Let the Ladies’ Auxiliary set up their comfort station in his parking lot.

He even paid Dave Gaston—he owns the motor lodge off Main—almost ten grand to let those people from the bus crash stay there while they waited on the bus company to reroute their buses to come get ‘em?”

“No.” I shake my head, my tone quiet. I think about the man who stocked my fridge when he realized I was eating the canned goods he left behind. The man who dotes on River like a little sister and refused to let Austin blame himself for the night he was hurt. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah—” Billy looks away on another head bob.

“No one does, really. Mainly because I think he wants it that way. Only reason I know is because my buddy’s girlfriend works the front desk on the weekends and she was there when he came in and paid the bill.

” Dragging his ballcap off his head, he runs his fingers through a head of shaggy, sandy-blond hair. “You heading home soon?”

“ Uhhh ,” Because it’s an odd question, and one I’m not entirely comfortable with, I shake my head. “Well, I?—”

“The reason I ask is that I was hoping when you do head back, you can tell Jen something for me when you see him.”

Talking to Jensen is the last thing I want to do but I nod my head anyway because this poor kid has had a rough day and because, as ashamed as I am to admit it, I’m curious as to what sort of message he wants me to deliver for him. “Sure. I can do that.”

The relief that rolls off of Billy is almost palpable.

“Can you tell him that me and Reese don’t blame him for what happened.

I mean—she’s a complete hardass sometimes but I know she feels the same way I do.

We both know Jen never meant for this to happen and that if there was a way, especially after what happened to Tank, he'd switch places with our dad in a heartbeat.” Billy gives me a sheepish grin.

“Besides, we all know that my dad’d been madder than a wet hen if Jen let anyone else work on Tank’s truck. ”

“I’ll let him know if I see him,” I say, clearing my throat on a nod. “You let your sister know that I said to knock it off with the coffee and get some sleep. She’s gonna need it if she’s going to be taking care of your dad while he recovers—you both will.”

“I’ll tell her,” Billy says with a grin while he resettles his ballcap on his head. “But don’t expect her to listen—her head is almost as hard as her ass.”

AFTER LEAVING BILLY REDFORD TO watch over his sleeping father, I made a quick stop into the communal office shared by the hospital’s residents to send a few emails and close out my charts for the day.

As soon as I’m done, I head to the locker room to retrieve my things and change back into the leggings and T-shirt I flew in here wearing, nearly sixteen hours ago.

While I’m pulling on my shoes, my phone buzzes in my bag, signaling a text. Digging it out on a sigh, I brace myself while scrolling through the notifications—dozens of missed calls and texts, made one on top of the other. All of them from another unknown number. Ethan—it has to be.

Unknown: We need to talk.

Unknown: there are things you need to know about him, Sloane.

Unknown: He’s not who he says he is.

Unknown: Do you know he’s been to prison?

Unknown: Do you know what he did?

No, I don’t.

While I know that Jensen went to prison for hurting someone, I also know that whatever he did, he was a minor when it happened. I also know that I got swept away. Too wrapped up in Jensen, too fast, to ask or even care. Looking back, I don’t understand how I could be so reckless.

Scrolling through the nearly eighty identical text messages from Ethan, I find a single text from Jensen, wedged in the middle of them.

The Grilled Cheese Guy: I know you’re angry with me. You should be. What I did was unforgivable but please don’t shut me out before giving me a chance to explain. That’s all I want, Peach. A chance to explain before you make up your mind.

Shoving my phone back into my bag, I shoulder it without answering either one of them and head for the skybridge that’ll take me to the parking garage attached to the trauma center.

While there are multiple levels for patients and visitors, the level connected to the bridge is for hospital staff only, so when I get to the exit, I have to swipe my badge through the reader to open the door.

Walking through the garage, in the direction of my car, I dig through my purse, looking for my keys. I’d been in such a hurry, I start to worry. Cade drove me here. Maybe he didn’t give them back.

“ Shit .” Muttering it under my breath, I stop walking to continue my search while somewhere ahead of me, I hear a car door open and close, the sound of it echoing through the partially deserted lot. My fingers snag on my key fob at the bottom of my bag, just as I hear my name.

“Sloane.”

When I hear him, my head jerks up so fast, I feel a sharp twinge shoot down the side of my neck, all the way into my armpit.

This level of the parking lot is private. Not only do you need an employee badge to access the skybridge, you also have to have a digital parking pass to open the gate. By all accounts, he shouldn’t be here.

But he is and he’s standing less than six feet away.

“Ethan.” Hand still in my bag, I grip my keys. “How’d you get in here?”

“I—” Shaking his head, he takes a step in my direction. Let’s out a soft sigh of frustration when I counter the move by taking a step back. “You left your spare parking pass at the condo when you left. I just?—”

“Left?” I bark it out on a laugh. “Did you just say when I left ?” Shaking my head, I pull out my keys. “I didn’t leave, Ethan. You stole my condo and threw me out .”

When I say it, his brow furrows like I just said the craziest thing he’s ever heard. “Sloane...” He says my name carefully, like I actually might be crazy. “I know things have gotten a little out of hand but?—”

“First I left and now things are a little out of hand ?” Keys gripped in my hand, I quickly look for my car over his shoulder. It’s parked five slots down, directly behind him. “You?—”

“I know what I did.” Changing tactics, Ethan holds up his hands like I’m being unreasonable. Like he’s trying to contain me. “I got cold feet. I lost my head for a second, but I think we’ve both done some things in this relationship that we wish we could take back.”

“Oh yeah?” I shake my head on another scoffing laugh. “What did I do exactly? ”

“You fucked my brother,” he reminds me quietly, just the right amount of hurt, tinging his tone.

Holding his hand out again, he shakes his head.

“But I love you, Sloane. When I saw you at the club, yesterday, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m in love with you.

That’s why I was at Jensen’s bar this morning.

I wanted to talk to you. Tell you I’m sorry and that I forgive you for what you did.

I’m willing to let it go, if you are. We can start over. You and me. We can?—”

“What about Amy?” He hasn’t mentioned her once. Even though what she did to me was unforgivable, I can’t help but feel a little sorry for her. “A week ago you were demanding your mother’s ring back so you could give it to her and now, it’s like she doesn’t even exist.”

“Amy and I were never going to work,” Ethan says on a firm head shake. “She’s not who I want to be with, Sloane. You are. I want us to?—”

Right—you want to be with me now that you know I’ve been sleeping with your brother…

“Did you stab Orton Redford?”

“Who?” The look of confusion is so genuine, so real, that for a moment, I do feel crazy. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about? Who’s?—”

“Orton Redford—the man your brother paid to work on his truck.” When I say the words your brother , the brackets around his mouth tighten slightly, for just a moment, before they smooth back into place. “ Did you stab him ?”

“Is that what he told you?” Ethan’s eyes widen in horrified shock. “Is that what he said—that I stabbed someone? When? When did I supposedly stab this guy?”

“Last night.” I feel a faint wavering of doubt ripple through my gut. Ethan’s confusion looks real. Sounds real. “It happened last night.”

The look of relief he gives me is almost palpable. “I was with Derek and Trey last night, Sloane—you can ask them. We were at the club, we were?—”

“In the cigar lounge?” I finish for him on a tone that tightens those brackets again.

“Look…” He gives me a fast head shake. “What happened with Amy was fucked-up. I don’t even know why I did it. I just?—”

“You did it because she sucks better dick than me, remember?” I’m being mean now. Petty—and I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t feel good.

There are those brackets again.

They show up every time he loses control of the conversation. Every time I don’t respond the way I used to.

“Someone attacked Jensen last Thursday,” I tell him, not giving him a chance to recover. “Slashed him with a razor blade across the back. He told me you hired someone to do it.”

“This is crazy, Sloane—are you hearing yourself?” Ethan lifts his hands to his head and runs his fingers through it, staring at me like I just spit on him. “First I hired someone to attack my brother and then I stabbed some old man?—”

“It’s really late and I’m tired.” Suddenly done with the conversation, I aim my fob over his shoulder and start my car. “I’m going home.”

“Home to him .” The look of utter betrayal on his face is beyond comprehension.

“My brother’s not who you think he is, Sloane.

There’s a reason he’s no longer welcome in our family,” he tells me, repeating one of the many text messages he sent me over the course of the day.

“He showed up at our parents’ house a few weeks ago and threatened our mother, then a few days later, he showed up at the club and threatened me.

You don’t know him. The things he’s done—the things he was convicted of doing—make me look like a boy scout. ”

I suddenly don’t know what to believe.

Who to believe.

All I know is that I don’t want to be here anymore.

“I tendered my resignation today,” I tell him, finally saying out loud what I decided, the moment I left Jensen standing in that hospital waiting room.

“I’m leaving Barrett. I’m leaving Clearwater.

I’m leaving Texas , so whatever happens between you and your brother, it has nothing to do with me.

Not anymore.” Skirting around him, I jam my hand back into my bag and wrap it around my stun gun.

Hold my breath all the way to the car. Ethan doesn’t follow me.

He doesn’t even speak until I’m grappling with my keys, trying to get my car door open without dropping them.

“Google Lyla Strong 2011 and see what pops up,” he shouts at my back. “Or better yet—why don’t you ask my brother what he did to her that got him sent to prison.”