Bad For You: (An Older Brother's Best Friend Romance) (11 page)

She grabs the phone and answers it. I make
myself comfortable, but keep my eyes on her when I notice all of her muscles
tense up. Her mouth falls open as a strangled cry escapes her lips. Her hand
goes to her throat as tears start to flow. Something isn’t right, and it’s
something worse than Simon being mad at us.

“Babe, what is it?” I ask.

She only shakes her head in response. “Where
is he now?” she questions into the phone, choking back a sob. “What are they
saying?” She nods a few times, listening to her mom.

“What’s going on?” I ask again, my voice
cracking.

“Simon,” she says. “He’s at the hospital. He
got into a car accident, and he’s in critical condition.”

My stomach drops as fear charts through me. “Let’s
go.”

This changes everything.

nautica

“You’re being quiet,” I whisper, panic rising with every
passing breath. I don’t know what’s going on with Simon. I don’t know what’s
going on with Bracken. I don’t know what’s going on with anything anymore.

Bracken is speeding towards the hospital, and
I’m worried we’re going to end up in the hospital room next to Simon if he
doesn’t slow down. He hasn’t said a word since we threw on our coats, rushed
out of the house, and got into his truck.

We make it to the parking lot in half the
time, and he swerves into the first open spot.

“I’m not in the mood to talk,” he says,
roughly. His knuckles pale as he grips the steering wheel. “Have you heard
anything else from your mom?”

I shake my head. “She told me to go through
the emergency entrance, and she’ll be in the waiting room,” I reply, reciting
the words of her last text.

“Then let’s go.” He jumps out at the same
time the door swings open and heads towards the entrance without waiting for
me. What the fuck? I have to pick up my pace to even keep up with him.

My mom runs straight into my arms when she
sees me. Tears, along with streams of mascara, are running down her face. “They
said they’re not sure if he’s going to make it,” she cries out. Sobs pour from
her chest. “He hasn’t woken up.” More sobs, harder this time. “They’re not sure
if he is going to, either! I can’t lose him.” I tighten my arms around her as I
try to control my own emotions, but am doing a horrible job at it. “I can’t
lose my son. I’ve already lost one man I loved. I can’t do it again.”

My heart aches as she pulls away and falls
down in a chair. I sit down next to her and grab her hand in mine. “Everything
is going to be okay,” I tell her. “Simon will get through this. He’s strong.” I
hope I sound more assured than I feel.

I look over at Bracken. His face is white as
he looks back and forth between the door and us.

“I’ve … I’ve got to get the hell out of
here,” he says, backing away.

“What?” I ask, jumping up from my chair.
“Where are you going?”

He turns his back to me and races to the
doors. “I have to get the fuck out of here.”

I kiss my mom’s cheek before rushing after
him. I don’t catch up until we’re almost to his truck. “You have to get out of
here?” I ask. “Why?” I dart forward and tug on the sleeve of his coat, trying
to stop him with all of my strength. I lose my hold when he whips around to face
me.

“Fucking stop, Nautica,” he yells. “Just let
me go.” He points to the hospital. “This is all our fault.
My
fault. I
should’ve stayed the hell away from you. I was an idiot who couldn’t control
his dick. This would’ve never happened if I didn’t touch you. Your mom wouldn’t
be sitting in the emergency room unsure of whether her son is going to live or
die.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head violently. His
words hit me like a train, making me feel lightheaded. “That’s not true, and
you know it.”

“He could be dead in there, and the last
thing that was on his mind, the last thing he saw, was
us.
Us betraying
him. I can’t …” He walks backwards. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s wrong. It’s
… we’re over.”

I flinch. “What? You think this is what he’d
want?” I scream, ignoring the curious looks from a couple taking a smoke break
a few feet away. “Do you think he’d want you to leave me alone like this? At
this time? You have to be there for him, too.”

“I think he’d want me to stay away from you,
which is exactly what I’m going to do.”

I charge forward, and he stumbles back when I
push on his chest. “You’re such a fucking coward, you know that? Go ahead. Run
away. Run away because it’s convenient, and you don’t want to deal with real
life consequences.” I push him again. “Simon was right.” My voice turns ice
cold. “You were only using me. All you care about is getting laid. I hate you.”

“This has nothing to do with me! This is
about you, not hurting you, not hurting Simon, or your mom. None of this is me
being selfish. If I stay with you that would be selfish!”

“Bullshit. If you want to believe that lie to
sleep better at night, go right ahead. But we both know it’s a goddamn cop
out.” I race forward to push him again. “Go.” He stumbles back. “Leave me
Bracken. Show me how much you care about me.” 

And that’s exactly what he does. He pulls
away and walks back to his truck. I collapse onto the dirty, snow-covered
ground and cry as the loud motor starts up and he speeds out of the parking
lot.

bracken

Hearing her cries, witnessing her sobs, tears me apart as I
walk away, but I’m doing the right thing, even if it kills me with every step.

She doesn’t understand. She thinks I’m being
weak and running away, but that’s not it. This is a sign we’re not meant to be.
I thought that it could work, that I could be the man she wanted me to be, but
it’s not possible.

Damn straight I have feelings for her. I
can’t deny that shit, but I’m not sure if it’s love because I don’t know what
the fuck love is. I’ve never witnessed anything but fake love and feelings my
entire life.

On the outside, my parents have the picture
perfect, sunshine marriage. My father owns the dealership and supports the
family while my mom is the homemaker.

But on the inside, it’s darker. There is no
happiness. No love. Only emptiness. My mom pops Xanax like it’s candy. My
father has a drinking, and I’m pretty positive, a monogamy problem. To be
honest, they can’t stand each other. She resents him for asking her to quit her
dreams of teaching. He resents her for not being the perfect wife. He sees it
in black and white. He handed her the American dream on a silver platter: the
nice house, the manicured lawn, and the walls of secrets and unhappiness.

I don’t want to be like my father, but I know
it’s inevitable. I know I’ll be the man who pays too much attention to his job
and not enough to his wife. I’m stepping away now before I ruin her, before she
chooses me over her family, and has no one to turn to after I destroy her.

If it came down to Simon or me, she’d choose
me. There’s something about love that makes you cut the wire to anyone who
isn’t rooting for you. I can’t do that to her, especially when I’m not sure if
I’ll always be there to lift her up.

I told Nautica I was ready for a commitment
and everything blew up in our faces. My mom told me years ago that commitment
is for fools. It brings out the true flaws and demons in people. The fights
about money, about who works more hours, and who has to change all the shitty
diapers rip you apart. That spark that once shined so bright will fizzle out
more and more after every argument, every cruel word said to each other, and
eventually you’ll be left in the dark.

And on top of it all, I’ll never forgive
myself if Simon doesn’t make it. He left angry and was probably speeding. That
would’ve never happened if he hadn’t walked in on me fucking his sister.

I had to leave before I lost it. I couldn’t
look at her, or her mom any longer. They already lost their father and husband.
Adding Simon to that list will kill them.

* * *

I drive around until it’s dark outside and visiting hours are
almost over before heading back to the hospital. I kill the engine and pray
that Nautica has already left. I know the chances of her being here are high,
but I have to see him. I have to know if my best friend is going to live or
not.  

I make it through the front door and into the
waiting room, but stop when I see it.

When I see
them.

The funny thing about people trying to hide
secrets is that it seems like a spotlight is always on them. As hard as you try
to be sneaky, your lies make you stand out.

My blood boils as I watch Pamela and my
father in the waiting room. She’s wrapped in his arms and sobbing. He pulls
away and wipes the tears from her red cheeks.

The way he’s whispering in her ear, and how
she’s holding onto him for dear life tells me everything I need to know.

That motherfucking asshole.

I turn around and sprint back out to my car
before I do something stupid.

Then I wait.

Thirty minutes pass. I perk up when I spot
them leaving. His arm is slumped over her shoulders as he guides her towards
her SUV. He opens up the car door and kisses her on the cheek before she slides
in.

As soon as she pulls away, I jump out of my
truck and stalk towards him.

“What the fuck is going on with you and Pam?”
I shout.

His body goes solid before he turns around to
face me. He looks around the deserted parking lot. “This is not the place, son,”
he answers, calmly.

“Answer my damn question.”

“Let’s go talk in my truck.”

I lunge forward and snatch him up by his
collar. “You piece of shit. You’ve been fucking around on mom with her?”

He pushes me away to break out of my hold.
“Oh come on, Bracken. You had to know. Your mom … she’s not herself anymore. I
don’t even know who the hell she is. I’ve already filed for divorce, we both
have attorneys, and I’m being very fair to her. I’m giving her half of
everything, and the lake house, so she’ll be happy.”

I scoff. “Oh, you’re trying to buy her off
for cheating on her?” I shove my finger in his face. “You’re a piece of shit.
You could’ve at least waited until you signed the papers before jumping into
bed with another woman.”

He shakes his head. “Please, let’s go talk
somewhere.”

“I have nothing else to say to you.” I spit
at his feet and walk away.

In one day, I lost both of my best friends. All
because of sex.

nautica

“Do you want some company in there?” Macy asks, parking in my
driveway.

I’m not sure how late it is, or how long I’d
been at the hospital. All I know is it’s dark outside, and my heart is breaking
more and more the blacker the sky gets.

“No,” I answer, gripping the door handle.
“I’m exhausted. I want to collapse in my bed and sleep off this nightmare.”

Macy showed up at the hospital with tears in
her eyes as soon as she got the call from me. We sat in the waiting room with
my mom, desperate for updates, but those were minimal. Simon is still in
critical condition. The doctor said all we can do now is play the waiting game
to see if he worsens or improves.

Fear and resentment eat at me. The two men I
love the most turned their backs on me today, and I’m not sure if they’re ever
coming back.

She stares out the windshield and nods. “I’ll
keep my phone on incase you or your mom need anything,” she says. “Call me if
you get any updates. I don’t care what time it is.” A few tears trickle down
her cheek. “I still can’t believe this happened.”

I wipe away my own tears. “I’ll call you as
soon as I hear something.”

I pull on the handle and get out. I head
inside and check my phone on the way upstairs, hoping to see my mom’s or
Bracken’s name.

Nothing.

I don’t know when my mom is coming home, or
if she even is. Randy stopped by the hospital an hour ago to check on us and
offered to stay with her so I could get some rest. When I asked if he’d talked
to Bracken, he only shook his head.

I strip off my clothes and get in bed. I dial
Bracken’s number, but his phone is going straight to voicemail – that’s
how it’s been all day. I send him a text asking him to call me and set my phone
next to my pillow, just in case.

nautica

I throw my phone down onto the kitchen counter. “I’m going to
kill him,” I say, around a groan.  

It’s been six days of calling Bracken, and
six days of getting his voicemail. They say that being ignored causes the same
chemical reaction in the brain as physically being hurt does. I believe it. I feel
like I’m getting stabbed with a double edge dagger with every,
“you have
reached the voicemail of…”

Yesterday was Christmas. My mom and I spent
all day at the hospital. They transferred Simon from ICU and into his own room.
He’s off critical condition and making progress. He’s no longer on the
respirator and is breathing on his own. The doctors say his improvement is
remarkable, and the outlook is promising. Simon is a fighter. He’ll be home
with us soon.

“Give him time, honey,” my mom responds. She
pours a glass of orange juice and hands it to me. 

She’s repeated that same advice to me
everyday since Simon’s accident and Bracken leaving me. The other night she
broke down and told me about her affair with Randy. She explained how Bracken
saw them at the hospital and blew up on his dad. According to Randy, he stormed
off, went home, packed his bags, and left with his mom. No one has heard from
him since, but his mom did send a text telling Randy they are both okay.

She said they were waiting on Randy’s divorce
to be finalized before telling us. I know it’s wrong to break up a marriage,
but deep down I can understand. My mom was fighting the pull she had towards
someone she couldn’t have. I can’t look down on her because I’ve felt the same
way. I’m happy the man she loves at least reciprocates the feelings. She
deserves to be happy.

“Give him time?” I repeat, with a scoff.
“I’ve given him almost a week. I don’t understand why he won’t pick up the
phone, or even send me a damn text to let me know he’s okay and not in some
ditch dead somewhere.”

She gives me an emphatic look. “Try to see
where he’s coming from. Bracken is probably blaming himself for Simon’s
accident because he left upset with you two. He thinks keeping his distance
from you will make Simon happy. He’s scared to face reality, not sure if he’ll
ever be forgiven. When Simon gets better, he’ll reach out to him, let him know
everything is okay, and Bracken will come back around. He just needs time.”

I don’t want to give him time. I need him
back. My body aches at the thought of never seeing him again.  

“But what about me? Why doesn’t he care about
how he’s hurting me? Selfish bastard.”

She rests her elbows on the counter. “The
ones we love can be selfish at times. You need to decide if he’s worth waiting
for.”

I shake my head. “You can’t have a
relationship with a selfish asshole. It’s not possible because the second it
gets rough they’re out the door, which is exactly what happened.” 

She opens her mouth to give me some more
words of wisdom, but the sound of the doorbell ringing stops her. I take the
time she goes to answer it to pity myself.  

“Were you expecting a package?” she asks, resurfacing
with a box in her hands.

I think back to everything I’ve ordered for
the holidays. “No.”

She double-checks the name. “It’s for you.”

She hands me the box, and opens up the drawer
for a pair of scissors. There’s no sender information. I cut it open and find a
small box wrapped in red tissue paper. I look at her. She shrugs.

It’s a jewelry box. Who the hell is sending
me jewelry?

There’s a card. I grab it, and my stomach
cramps as I start to read it.

Nautica,

I’m sorry for everything. I’ll always
remember us. I want you to be happy.

Merry Christmas.

Bracken.

I hold in a breath and grab the velvet, blue
box, playing with it in my hand. My eyes go wide as I pop open the lid. I pull
out the necklace. The gold chain shimmers underneath the lights. A heart
pendent encrusted with white and pink diamonds hangs from it. I hold it up,
admiring its beauty from every angle, and catch sight of the words engraved on
the back of the heart.

This is step one.

Step one?

This only magnifies my confusion. Of course
Bracken would lead me down a dead end like this.

“Wow, that’s beautiful,” my mom says, in the
distance. I only nod in response because I’m incapable of forming words at this
point. Why would he send this to me? Does he want to keep torturing me?

I carefully place the necklace back into the
box and grab my phone. He doesn’t answer my call.

Or the next one.

Or any of my texts.

When I go to bed, I fall asleep with my phone
in my hand, but the call never comes.

I’m waiting on something that’s never going
to happen.