Bad For You: (An Older Brother's Best Friend Romance) (12 page)

nautica

“Can I borrow your car?” I ask.

“To go where?” Macy replies. She zips up her
bag and slides it underneath her bed.

We’re back at school – just got in an
hour ago and finished unpacking. It’s been eight days since Simon’s accident. I
offered to take the semester off to help my mom with his recovery, but she said
no. He broke his ribs and a leg in the accident and is unable to go back to
base until he recovers. Telling him he couldn’t go back to work for his tour is
what he took the hardest.

He’s apologized to me and tried calling Bracken
a few times to do the same thing, but he gets the same thing I do –
voicemail.

It’s like his phone has been permanently shut
off. I even tried calling his mom, but she didn’t answer, either. The good
thing is that I know where to find him now. There’s no way he’s not coming back
to school for his final semester.

I grab my coat and slide my phone into my
pocket. “To Bracken’s,” I answer.

She clicks her tongue against the roof of her
mouth. “Uh, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Bracken is still on Macy’s shit
list, and she wants me to have nothing to do with him.

“Probably not, but I need to talk to him.”

Uneasiness lines her features. “Do you want
to me to come with you?” I shake my head. I need to do this alone. She tosses
me her keys. “Sure, but don’t be fucking him in my backseat if you two make
up.”

“I can only hope it goes that well,” I
whisper, underneath my breath.  

I wave goodbye before scurrying out of my
dorm. I trek through the snow-covered parking lot and get into her car. I keep
it silent on the ride over while mentally going over everything I want to say
to him. I fight with myself on whether to turn around and go back so many times
I lose count.

My stomach tightens when I spot his truck in
the parking lot, but I feel a sort-of giddiness. This is it. I’m going to march
in there and make things better. I take slow steps to his apartment. Jasper
answers the door after a few knocks. His face drops when he sees me.

Not a good sign.

“Is Bracken here?” I ask, shivering as I
tighten my scarf around my neck.

He lets out a sigh and looks over my shoulder
in hesitation. “Uh … he’s …”

I slap his shoulder, getting him to finally
look at me. “Answer me,” I order, with a cold stare. It’s fucking freezing, and
my broken heart isn’t in the mood for games.

“No. He went out for a little. I’ll let him
know you stopped by.”

I point to his truck. “Weird, his truck is
right there.”

He scratches his head. “He … uh … drove my
car.”

“Liar,” I grumble, pushing the door open
wider and shoving past him. Bracken never drives anything but his truck.

I ignore Jasper’s protests as I head straight
towards Bracken’s bedroom. The door is shut. I don’t bother knocking before
barging in. Adrenaline is pumping through me like crazy.

What am I going to say to him? Is he still
upset about everything?

Jasper is on my heels, still begging me to
stop, and I stumble back into him when I take in the scene in front of me.

No. No.

I’m afraid I’m close to passing out as I give
him all my weight.
This is a dream. Please be a dream.

Jasper helps me back to my feet as I keep my
eyes on Bracken. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, registered worry on his
face, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost. My gaze moves to the redhead next to
him. Her eyes and face are red from crying, her hands are shaking, but that’s
not the worst part. In her hand is a pregnancy test.  

I can feel my lunch ready to come up.

“Nautica,” Bracken yells, causing me to jump.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”

He snaps up from the bed and comes my way.
His upper lip snarls, like he has a reason to be pissed at me. Jasper moves out
of our way and stands to the side, silently watching the shit show that is
about to start.

“Actually, I should have.” I shove his chest
and fight back my own tears. “Guilt has been eating me alive, tearing me apart
for everything that happened with us.” It’s getting harder to hold back my
tears. “I thought maybe, just maybe, you were missing me as much as I was you.
But obviously not, considering you have a chick in your bedroom holding a
goddamn pregnancy test.”

“You need to leave.” He grabs my hand and
starts to pull me through the hallway towards the front door.

I jerk out of his hold. “Thank you,” I spat.
He stays quiet, not even looking at me. “Thank you for helping me realize that
you’re not worth the tears or the heartache. Fuck you Bracken, and goodbye.”

He stands there, hands in his pockets, and
stares at the floor. He can’t even look at me. I turn around and sprint out the
door to the parking lot.

Jasper is the one who runs after me. Not
Bracken. Not the man I’m in love with, and the one who just smashed my heart
into a million pieces. He pounds on the car window until I roll it down.

“Nautica,” he yells, out of breath. “Give him
time … let him explain.”

“You tell him he has a week, Jasper,” I say. “One
week, and then it’s over. I’m done.”

One week passes without word from him.

Two weeks pass.

Weeks turn into months.

Months turn into years.  

nautica

The casket is black with gold trim.

I went to the funeral home with my mom three
days ago to assist her in picking it out, along with the other arrangements, because
she couldn’t do it herself. My heart aches for her. It was the second time she
was making funeral arrangements for someone she loved in a far too-little time
span.

A heart attack.

No one saw it coming.

Randy had been working late after the
dealership closed. My mom went to check on him when he didn’t show up for
dinner and wasn’t answering his phone. It was too late when she found him in
his office. He was gone before she even had the chance to call for help.

I cross my legs and focus on the casket.
Photos of Randy with my mom, Bracken, and even his ex-wife are delicately
placed along the lid and surrounded by an array of colorful floral
arrangements.

I stare at one in particular of him and
Bracken. It had to have been his freshman year, and after a football game
because he’s wearing his jersey as sweat glistens his forehead. A proud smile
beams across Randy’s face while he sports a t-shirt with his son’s jersey
number.

“Bracken,” my mom whispers.

My gaze snaps from the photos to her. What? Is
she reading my mind? My mouth drops open when she stumbles out of her chair and
straight into the strong arms of a man.

My heart thumps against my chest. I do a
double take, praying I’m seeing things, and grip the arm of my chair for
support.

Him.

I didn’t expect him to show. Shit, no one had
expected him to show. After he let me walk away from him at his apartment, I
thought I’d never see him again. He hasn’t tried to contact anyone, including
Randy. It’s like he dropped us all and didn’t give a shit about it.

I’ve been working on moving on from that part
of my life. Now five long and hard years later, the sight of him feels like a
chainsaw straight through my heart.

“I’m so happy you came honey,” my mom says,
her voice broken up in sobs. “Thank you.” Her cries grow louder, drawing more
attention our way. “Thank you so much.”

The crowd starts to merge our way.

Just fucking great.

Back to the Bracken show.

My gaze pins to him, watching his every move.
He pats her on the back while I hold in the urge to shoot up from my chair and
punch him.

“You know I wouldn’t miss this, Pam,” he
says, calmly. He clutches her tighter in his hold before glancing over her
shoulder, straight at me. His face is pale, his baby blue eyes swollen, and it
looks like he hasn’t slept in days. “I can’t believe this happened.” His shuts
his eyes. “This isn’t right.”  

It kills me to watch my mom crumble in the
arms of the man I once loved. I still love. He holds her tight, soothing her
with his entrancing voice that used to take me over. That voice still haunts
me, giving me nothing but nightmares and tears.

His eyes slowly open and he tries to gain
contact, but I look away. He isn’t getting shit from me unless it’s to tell him
to go to hell. I bite my tongue, nearly drawing blood. This is about my mom. I
need to put my anger for him aside in support for her. I lean back in my chair,
acting like I don’t notice his presence.  

He’s ignored my existence for years. I owe
him the same.

I look down the row at Simon sitting on the
opposite side of my mom with his family. His mouth is drawn into a straight
line as he rubs his clenched jaw. He’s just as uneasy of Bracken being here as
I am. I swear I notice Macy snarl at him.

He takes the open seat next to me when the
service starts. I flinch, my mouth going dry, when he takes my hand in his. I’m
itching to pull away and tell him not to touch me, but I can’t. I don’t want to
look like a woman being rude to a grieving son. So I slump deeper into my seat.
The heat of his hand grows warmer as the service goes on. Tears fall down my
cheeks, mourning the death of not only his father, but also the memories of us.

I sneak a glance at him, and for the first
time ever, I witness him cry.

We had something once, something that
should’ve never happened, and ripped through our lives like a tornado, leaving
no one unscarred.

I know he won’t be here long.

History will repeat itself. He won’t stay,
and I’m not going to let him get close enough to break my heart this time.

nautica

He’s here in the flesh, standing in the living room, and
acting like he never left us. The wound of him has been painfully ripped back
open.

I lean against the wall, my temper growing
higher each time he greets someone walking through the front door. He steps to
my mom’s side anytime it looks like she’s on the verge of another breakdown, acting
like he’s been a constant here.

My throat itches. I want to scream, make a
scene, and tell him he doesn’t belong here, but at the same time I crave for
him to wrap his arms around me. Even after all of this time, the asshole still
has power over me; making me feel things I don’t want to. I hate him for that.

He looks good. Too damn good. His black suit
fits him like it was perfectly tailored to his broad chest. His gold watch
glistens underneath the light. His dark hair is swept back, giving me a view of
his baby blues. A trimmed mustache runs along his upper lip as a short, kept
beard covers the bottom of his face and strong chin. I’ve never been much of a
beard girl … but damn, I guess I just had to see it on the right man.

His arms are more defined, more muscular, and
so are his shoulders. Gone is the college boy I loved, replaced with this powerful,
enthralling man with one arm covered in a sleeve of tattoos. He’s changed so
much. It feels like I know nothing about him.

Unable to watch him any longer, I duck into
the kitchen to get everything ready. We’re holding the reception at Simon’s
house – well, our old house. He bought the place after my mom and Randy purchased
a new, five-bedroom house and moved out.

I frown when I feel him at my back, following
me.

“You’re wearing the necklace,” he says,
looking straight at it when I turn around. I look down and want to slap myself.
In the middle of my chest, over my white blouse and in-between the lapels of my
unbuttoned blazer, is the necklace he sent me.

I forgot to take it off on the ride over
here. I didn’t want him to notice it. I wrap my fingers around the heart
pendant and mindlessly play with it.

“It looks more beautiful on you than I
imagined,” he adds, running a hand through his beard.

I’m not even sure
why
I put the damn
thing on this morning. I haven’t worn it in years. I threw it in the back of my
jewelry box when the realization that he was never coming back finally sunk in.
For some reason today, I drug it out, but I’m not going back and forth about
what that reason is with him. I think it’s a sign that I need to sell it on
eBay or something.

“I’m surprised you even showed up,” I say. I
can’t hold back the nastiness in my tone.

He broke my heart, walked out on me, and
didn’t come back until tragedy came. Now, he’s trying to act like nothing
happened. He might be okay with pretending, but I’m not. I’m doing my best not
to blow up on him because his father did just pass away. I’m trying to have
some compassion. I can’t kick a guy too hard while he’s down – maybe just
give him a little nudge.

“I’m surprised you thought I wouldn’t,” he
replies.

I move around him and open up the freezer. I
took on the job of getting the reception arrangements together. Cooking isn’t
exactly one of my strong suits, so I ordered subs from a local sandwich shop,
along with some chips and finger foods.

“You left everyone; practically fell off the
face of the Earth. I honestly don’t know what to expect from you anymore.” I
grab an ice tray, slam it down on the counter, and start to drag out the rest
of the food. “How did you find out?”

I know it wasn’t Simon or me, and I don’t
think my mom has his number.

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his
black slacks. “My uncle called my mom,” he answers.

“Good thing, because no one here knew how to
get ahold of you.”

“You don’t think I regret that?” he asks,
sharply. “I never had a chance to apologize to my father or make our
relationship better. I thought eventually enough time would pass that we could
move on and make shit right, but it’s too late now. He’s gone, and I never told
him how much I really loved him.” His eyes squeeze shut as his voice lowers.
“How much he meant to me.”

I rub my cheek while avoiding all eye
contact. “He loved you, and he knew you loved him.”

“Yeah, but I had a pretty shitty way of
showing it.” I’m not going to argue with that, even if it will make him feel
better. “So uh … Simon and Macy?” He signals out to the living room where my
brother and best friend are sitting together.

 “Yep.”

Apparently, they had a little fling before we
left for college, and started it back up after Simon’s accident. They married a
few years ago.

It could’ve been us.

“And their daughter?” I nod, thinking of my
niece, Annabelle. “Wow, she’s beautiful; an almost spitting image of you when
you were younger.”

I pop a pretzel in my mouth and scurry from
behind the island to escape the kitchen. I have to get out of here. If we keep
talking, I’m going to have a breakdown. I can’t stay here and listen to him compliment
me. I come to a halt when he grabs my arm.  

I shiver at the feel of his lips against my
ear. “Please don’t run from me. We need to talk. I know this isn’t the place to
hash out our past and problems, but give me a chance to explain everything.”

I yank out of his hold. “That’s where you’re
wrong. We don’t need to talk about anything. You’re here. I know my mother
appreciates it, but I don’t need anything else from you. I don’t care about an
apology, an explanation, anything. That was years ago. I’ve moved on.”

His face falls. “I came here for you, too,”
he says, his voice strained.

“It’s too late.” I resist the tingle in my
hand to slap him across the face. “When this is over, you can go run back to
where you came from.” I can’t look him in the eyes.

“Are you seeing someone?”

 
“We are
so
not doing
this,” I reply, flabbergasted. Is he really trying to ask me this
here?

“Just tell me,
please.
Tell me.”

“Leave me alone.” 

“This conversation, us talking shit out, is
going to happen sooner or later.”

“I’d prefer later … or never.”

I storm away from him and push through the
crowd until I reach the stairs. I dart up to my old bedroom and slam the door
shut behind me. Deep breaths pass through my lungs as I lean back against the
door and curse to the air.

I had my worries about him showing up, but I
tried to place them in the back of my mind. I tried to convince myself that he
wouldn’t come because Bracken couldn’t man up and do the right thing. I guess I
was wrong. I can’t deal with that today, though. I have to be strong for my
mom, even if Bracken is breaking me down.

I sit down on the floor.
Does he have a
girlfriend? A wife?

I’m pissed at myself for studying his hand
and feeling a sense of relief when I noticed there was no sign of a wedding
ring. He said he didn’t do commitments. I guess he wasn’t lying.

I look up at the knock of the door.

“Come in,” I say, hesitantly, hoping it’s not
Bracken on the other side.

Macy strolls in, gently shutting the door
behind her. “He’s here,” she says, matter-of-factly.

“He’s here,” I repeat, running my hands over
my face. Those two words mean so much.  

“What are you going to do?”

“Stay as far away from him as I can.” I get
up and double-check my make-up in the vanity mirror. “He won’t be here long.
Hopefully history will repeat itself and he’ll be gone.” I unclasp the necklace
and slip into my pocket. “I have to get back downstairs to my mom.”

Bracken is gone when we make it back down.
Thank God, maybe my wish has been granted and he’s already skipped town.