Bad For You: (An Older Brother's Best Friend Romance) (13 page)

bracken

I wasn’t sure about the response I’d get when I walked into
the funeral home, but I knew it probably wasn’t going to be very welcoming. I
couldn’t blame any of them. I brought this upon myself.

I’m the one who created this turmoil and then
hightailed it when it was time to deal with the consequences. I changed my
number, cut off every tie linking me to this place, and haven’t returned since.

When I got the call about my dad, it was like
a sucker punch straight to the gut. My stupid ass stubbornness had pulled me
back, keeping me from making shit right with him before he passed. I hate
myself for that. I would do anything to take it back.

And then there’s her.

Nautica.

Every emotion, feeling, and memory I had of
her came crashing into me like a mack-truck when I spotted her sitting there.
She hates me. I knew it the moment she noticed me. Her dark eyes narrowed, her
red lips grimaced, and her olive-skin paled. She doesn’t want anything to do
with me.

I have to rectify that. It isn’t going to be
easy. I’m well aware I have making up to do. She’s stubborn as hell, and I know
it’s going to take some time. It took me years to figure my own shit out. I owe
her the same.

I glance up when I hear someone coming into
the kitchen. I gulp when Pamela pulls out the chair next to me and has a seat.
A tissue is clutched in her hand, and she’s staring at me with glassy eyes.

“Bracken,” she greets, letting out a sigh.

I nod in response, giving her a gentle smile.
She’s keeping it together well for a woman who’s been widowed for the second
time. It’s obvious she’s grieving, but she’s doing better than what I imagined.
I guess people really do build up more strength with each loss.

Her dark hair is wrapped up in a bun at the
base her neck, and her face is make-up free, which I’m certain is because she
was afraid of having it run down her face at the service. My mom did the same
thing.

“Hey,” I finally reply. “How are you dealing
with all of this?” My voice cracks at the end.
This.
I’m not even ready
to say the word out loud …
death.
He’s gone.

She lets out a long breath. “As good as I can
be, I guess.” A small hint of a smile wavers along her thin lips. “Thank you
for coming again. I really appreciate it. I was afraid word wouldn’t get to you
in time.”

“I owe you an apology. You. My dad. All of
you deserve an apology. What I did was immature and wrong.”

Her cold, shaking hand folds over mine.
“Don’t feel bad. I understand it was hard for you. You were put in a bad
position. I forgive you.” She squeezes my hand before removing hers. “Has
Nautica talked to you yet?”

“If you count basically telling me to go fuck
myself, then yeah, a little bit.”

She nods, not looking one bit surprised at
her daughter’s response. “It’s going to be a hard job of getting back in her
good graces. I don’t know if you’re staying here, leaving, or seeing someone,
but if you want to make things right with her, you need to give her time. You
hurt her. My daughter is not someone who forgets easily. You know her well
enough to know she can’t pretend you didn’t leave her.” She turns and points
towards the living room. “The same thing with him, but I think he might be a
little more easy-going with forgiveness. Trust me when I say there’s nothing
harder than trying to fix the woman’s heart you broke
and
win her
back.” 

I nod, playing with my phone in my pocket. “Do
they all still have the same phone numbers?”

“All of us do. Make use of them.”

I couldn’t delete their numbers, even after I
changed my own. Sometimes I would stare at their names on the screen and fight
with myself on whether to hit delete or call. I never did either.

“How’s your mom taking it?”

I was the one who called her about my dad’s
passing. She was distraught at first, but after a few days, she grew more
relaxed. She’s off the prescription medication, and is doing better at coping
with stress with help from a treatment facility she went to after leaving my
father.

 “She’s doing okay.” I hesitate for a
moment. “She wasn’t sure about showing up here because of … everything.” I
invited my mom to come along, but she stayed behind. She didn’t think she’d be
welcome, even though I tried to tell her differently.

“She’s more than welcome to come here or my
house anytime. She was a huge part of Randy’s life, too.”

A crowd shuffles into the kitchen,
interrupting us to give their condolences. I kindly thank them before dashing
out of the room and heading outside. I not only need fresh air, I need to check
on my mom, and figure out a plan to make things right again.

I’m almost in the clear when the familiar
voice stops me.  

“Hey fucker, wait up.” I turn around on my
heels to see Simon coming my way.  “We need to talk,” he says.

I point to my truck. “Get in.”

nautica

The superintendent of the school offered me as many bereavement
days as I wanted, but I’m going back to work after only three. It will take my
mind off things and clear my head from my never-ending thoughts of Bracken.
He’s been haunting me since he came back, and I need to stop letting myself
wonder whether or not he’s still in town.

I haven’t seen or heard from him since the
funeral. His mom showed up at Simon’s a few hours after he left and ended up
having a heart-to-heart with mine to clear the air.

I have a bagel in one hand, my briefcase in
the other, and am on my way out of my apartment when someone knocks on the
door. What the? No one ever stops by this early. I balance the strap of my bag
on my shoulder and answer it.

“Holy shit, you really are a teacher.”

I tighten my hold on the bagel and narrow my
eyes at Bracken, who’s standing in my doorway eyeing me up and down while he
bites into the edge of his lip.

Well, there goes my day.

“I shouldn’t be thinking the things I’m
thinking right now, but damn, fantasies of you in that skirt are going to be
keeping me up at night,” he goes on.

I take a good look at him. Beads of sweat are
running along his forehead and neck. His white, sleeveless shirt shows off his
tattoos. I wish I had more time to study each one and ask him about them. His
hair is wet, and messier than it had been at the funeral. A pair of sweatpants
hang loose on his hips.

Shit. Why does the man always have to look so
damn good?

Him showing up at my front door out of the
blue isn’t what I need this morning. I take a step back. “What the hell are you
doing here?” I ask.

“Someone gave me your address.” He shrugs his
shoulders. “I was on a run and thought it would be cool to drop by and say hi.”

Is he serious?
Drop by and say hi?
Like we’re old friends? I plan on kicking whoever
that someone’s
ass is.
“I didn’t ask you how you got here. I asked what you’re doing here.”

I don’t have the time or patience to play his
games this early. I overslept, and I’m a week behind on papers to grade.

He leans into the doorframe. “I wanted to
talk.”

Bad timing, buddy. His answer infuriates me.
Now.
He wants to talk to me on
his
time. He’s a day late and a dollar short
if he thinks that’s going to happen.

“I can’t talk, Bracken. I have to go to work.
I have shit to do, and hearing your excuses isn’t in my agenda.”

His face falls. Does he really think it’s
going to be that easy? That he can show up at my door and I’ll jump right back
into his arms?

“Work … yeah … right.” He blocks me from
stepping around him. “What about later? Let’s talk when you get off. I’ll take
you to dinner. I’ll make you dinner. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I have dinner plans.”

“Where? With who?”

“That’s actually none of your business.”

I try to maneuver around him, but he slams his
hand back against the doorframe, stopping me. “Don’t do this. Don’t act this
way. I understand you’re fucking pissed. I get it. But give me a chance.”

“No, I’m beyond pissed. I want nothing to do
with you, and that’s your own fault. So leave me the hell alone. Nothing is
going to change my mind about you.” I duck underneath his arm to squeeze past
him. He moves out of the way as I shut my door and lock it. “Now, I have to go
to work. Don’t show up here again.”

I walk away from him and don’t look back
once. What he doesn’t know is that my heart is pounding with every step, and I’m
holding back tears. How can one man have such a tight control over my heart? And
why can’t I loosen the strings?

I dial Macy’s number as soon as I get into my
SUV.

“He showed up at my house this morning,” I
blurt out when she answers. “At my fucking house.”

She gasps. “Shut the hell up.” She doesn’t
even have to ask who
he
is.

“Did you give him my address?” My voice
sounds more accusatory than it should, but my pulse is sky rocketing.  

“Absolutely not. You know me. I hate that
asshole for what he did to you.”

“Then who?”
My mom?

“Fucking Simon,” we both say at the same
time. My money is on him.

“That man, I don’t understand him. He knows
the shit he put you through,” Macy says.  

“Years ago, he wanted to kill Bracken for
touching me. Now he’s giving him my damn address to try to talk to me? He needs
to make up his mind.”

She lowers her voice. “You know he regrets
how all of that shit happened, don’t you? He wishes he wouldn’t have snapped
like he did.”

Simon’s guilt from the day he walked in on us
is strong. He punched his best friend, stormed out to his truck, and took off
speeding. He ran a red light and t-boned another car with two passengers. They
were all rushed to the hospital with Simon in the worst condition. Everyone
made it out alive. When he woke up and everything became clear, he hated
himself, and it took him some time to fight the demons of his guilt.  

He’s apologized countless times about blowing
up on us, and I know losing Bracken hurt him, too. I feel guilt from that.

I start the engine and back out of the
parking lot. “I know he does.”  

I don’t blame Simon for Bracken leaving.
Bracken was a big boy. He left on his own. When you love someone, you don’t
give a shit who is trying to push you away from them or tear you apart, you
fight it. You fight for your love and happiness. I did my part in the war. I
would’ve done anything for him. Bracken didn’t, and I hate him for that.

“Are you still coming over for dinner?” she asks.

“Yeah. I have dance practice after school,
and then I’ll be there.”

“Can’t wait to see you. Don’t worry about him
today, okay? Everything will work out.”

“Everything will work out as soon as he’s out
of town and out of my mind.”

bracken

I didn’t plan on stopping by Nautica’s place this morning on
my run.

            Okay,
shit. Maybe I did, but I’m trying to convince myself it was a spur of the
moment thing – just like all of the other shit that’s happened between
us. The sex, the feelings, the fallout, all of those things hadn’t been
anticipated, but they happened.

Spur of the moment – no thoughts, no
hesitations, worry about the consequences later. That’s the best definition of
our relationship.

I nearly lost my shit when she answered the
door looking all put together, prim and proper. The fucking a teacher fantasy
has never been a turn on for me … until now. I can’t stop thinking about
marching into her classroom and bending her over the desk. She’ll remember all
of the dirty things I did to her every time she sits there and grades papers.

She looks amazing, which isn’t surprising.
She’s left her charcoal-colored hair long, but it now has a hint of blonde
highlights to it. She was wearing it straight instead of curly, making her look
older. She’s all grown up. Her tits and ass are more filled out, making me feel
more like the fucking idiot I am for walking away from her.

I’m stunned some other motherfucker hasn’t
scooped her up and put a ring on it. When I walked into the funeral home, I
expected Quinton to be at her side, but there was no sign of him – thank
fucking God. The asshole didn’t show, giving me the perfect in. Thank you,
douche bag football player.

I roll to a stop, put my truck in park, and
take a deep breath before getting out and heading inside the small diner. I
spot him sitting in a corner booth, and he waves me over.

“Well, well, look what the cat drug in,” he
says, lifting up from his seat as I move his way.

“Hey man,” I say, when I reach him. We give
each other the whole man-hug clap thing on the back and sit down.

After Simon stopped me before leaving the
reception, we talked briefly in my truck before he had to go back in to support
Pam. He wasn’t as pissed off to see me as Nautica was, but he hadn’t been
exactly jumping up and down, either. I texted him and asked if he wanted to
meet for lunch today. We need to clear the air. 

Simon blows out a breath. “Wow … didn’t think
this would happen anytime soon,” he says. “But I’m glad it is. I’m happy we’re sorting
this shit out.”  

He doesn’t look any different, except his
hair has grown back out. I guess he wasn’t a fan of the shaved look. He’s still
built, and age hasn’t taken a toll on him yet. He looks the same age as the
last time I saw him – when he was punching me in the face. He does have
the fatherly-thing going on, though. Instead of wanting to go out for beers, we’re
at a damn diner. I guess no more day drinking for him.

I give the waitress my order before answering
him. “Me too. This shit has been stretched out for far too long,” I say.

“How long?” he asks.

“Huh?” I stretch out my arm along the back of
booth, raising a brow.

“How long did you two have something going
on?”

Fuck.
I wasn’t planning on giving him
details of what went on between Nautica and me. I figured she’d already told
him, or he didn’t want to hear that shit.  

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,”
I answer, with a huff. “Not trying to be an asshole, but it’s kind of personal.
I’ll only tell you it wasn’t too long before you found out.”

“Okay, I’ll take that. Nautica is about as tight
lipped about it as you are. At least to me. I’m pretty sure Macy’s little ass
knows everything.”

“Speaking of Macy …” I hold back the urge to
point out that he’d pretty much done the same thing as me. I’m sure he didn’t
ask Nautica to sign a permission slip for him to start fucking her best friend.

He slaps the table and chuckles. “I’m not
going to deny it makes me look like a hypocritical asshole.” I don’t bother to
correct him. “Do you remember the night you took Nautica to the holiday party?”

“Yeah,” I croak out. How could I forget? My
mind goes crazy – remembering how I bent her over that desk and pounded
into her.

“Macy is the girl I hung out with.”

“I knew you were hiding something, you sneaky
bastard.”

“I know … I’m a dick. We ended up fucking the
night before I left for the military.” He runs his hand through his dark hair, unable
to hold back the childish grin on his face. “I don’t know how the hell it
happened, but it did. When we both came back, she wanted to talk. We ended up doing
that and a little bit more.” He takes a sip of water. “She was there for me
after the accident, and somehow I ended up falling in love with her. She got
pregnant four years ago with Annabelle, and we just celebrated our second
anniversary.”

“Wow,” is all I can say. Macy and Simon. I
never thought I’d see the day. He did nothing but bitch about Nautica hanging
out with her.

“It’s shitty, I know, that I punched your ass
from hiding the fact that you were banging Nautica when I was fucking Macy on
the side, but she’s my
baby sister,
man. I was in shock. I never thought
I had to worry about you doing that shit.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t planned. It just crept
up on us and we couldn’t stop. I know I should’ve come to you, man to man. I
was planning on it, I promise, but everything blew up before I had the chance
to.”

He nods in agreement. “So now that we got
that out of the way, do you forgive me?”

I chuckle. “For being an asshole, yes.” I
point my finger at him, trying to look more serious than I actually am. “For
punching me, do it again and I’ll have to beat your ass.”

He throws his head back in laughter. “Yeah, I
was pushing my limits. I was waiting for you to swing back so I could use it as
more reason for Nautica to stay away from you.”

“Prick.”

“It’s my baby sister. It took me a minute to
realize she’s grown.” He laces his fingers behind his head. “So tell me what’s
your plan with her?”

“What do you mean?”

He scoffs. “Oh shut the fuck up. You asked me
for her address. You haven’t skipped town yet. I know you like my ass and all,
but I’m sure I’m not the reason you’re still here.”  

“I’ve been thinking about it,” I mutter,
taking a sip of coffee.  

“Good luck with that. I’ll help you, but it’s
probably not going to be easy.”

“Trust me, I’m fucking figuring that out.”

* * *

I stop at the doorway of my guest bedroom and
notice her luggage is open on the bed. She has a stack of clothes sitting next
to it. “Are you going somewhere?” I ask.

My mom looks back at me, startled. “Yes, back
home,” she answers, picking up the clothes and carefully setting them in the
suitcase. “My time here is done.”

I hadn’t expected her to stay long. She has a
life and a job back home in Kansas, where she moved to be closer to me after
the divorce.

I lean against the doorframe. “Do you want me
to drive you?” I ask.

She waves her hand through the air. “No.
George is on his way to pick me up.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. I go to
answer it and find George standing in front of me with a bouquet of flowers in
his hand.

“Hey Bracken,” he says, walking in. “Thanks
for taking care of my woman for me.” He slaps me on the back as I lead him to
my mom.

George is her new husband – as of a
year ago. After I found out about my dad’s affair, I went home and broke the
news to my mom. The sad part is that she already knew. She’d gone through my
dad’s phone one day, saw their messages, and confronted him. He told her he was
filing for divorce. That’s why she’d been even more distraught over the break.
She was dealing with having a failed marriage and no one to turn to.

We ended up packing our shit and spending the
rest of the holiday at a bed-and-breakfast a few hours out of town. She got an
apartment with her spousal support, and I got a job to pay for my apartment
until I graduated. I opened up a dealership with Jasper, and she started
working for us. That’s where she met our finance manager, George.

I give her a kiss on the cheek and tell them
goodbye.

Now it’s time to get my shit together.