Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Wade
The phone on my desk beeped with an incoming call, drawing my glare until the red light came on, indicating that the system immediately sent it to voicemail.
Who the hell was calling at ten at night?
Almost instantly, my cell started vibrating on my desk. I’d set it earlier to do not disturb so whoever it was had called multiple times to try and reach me.
“Dammit,” I swore, my gut turning in a way that usually meant something wasn’t right. I shoved aside the mess of paper on my desk, having written and rewritten my line of questioning at least a dozen times.
Stevens, Stevens, and Heller was the largest anti-trust law firm in Boston, and right now we were trying a huge case against an insurance company, so every word, every statement had to be perfect. Monday morning, I’d scheduled a mock jury to hear my arguments and gather their feedback. Suits might’ve done a shit job portraying what being a lawyer was really like, but Bull and the idea of trial science was no joke, especially in cases where everything was on the line .
The other partner at the firm, Tim Heller, wanted to argue the case, but I’d insisted I could handle it. Even though Dad wasn’t here, it was like I still had something to prove to his name on the building.
“Shit.” My shoulders immediately slumped when I found my phone and saw who was calling. Mom. There was only one reason Joanna Stevens called this late at night. There was only one reason Joanna Stevens called me, period.
“What did he do now?” I answered, the tiredness in my voice having nothing to do with physical fatigue but the mental and emotional exhaustion of preparing to have to clean up yet another of my little brother’s messes.
“It’s…Blaze.” She was sobbing.
I sat forward in my chair. The level of emotion in her voice was…different…than the times she’d called before. It had been years since Blaze himself asked me for any help. It was always Mom who intervened on his behalf.
“What happened?”
Drug possession? Car wreck? Drunk and disorderly? Sex tape scandal? What would the wheel of misfortune land on this time?
The rest of the world might know Blaze as Mr. Hollywood, but in the Stevens family, he was Mr. Misdemeanor. He was the classic consequence of a father who was too hard on him and a mother who babied and catered to him to compensate. Being in Hollywood only nurtured the catastrophe of his nature.
“He’s…in the hospital.” She choked out the words and then sobbed again.
“Not again.” I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. Of course, he was.
There was a cycle. Blaze would do a movie. It would blow up the box office. The press and attention afterward would consume him. He’d go hard, soaking up all the love and attention that Dad never gave him, and then he’d crash and burn in some kind of spectacular public spectacle.
The first time, he’d almost ended up in a Mexican prison. The next, he’d tried to have his own ‘night at the museum’ in New York and was found drinking out of a gold chalice that once belonged to Napoleon. Thank God, it had been a replica on display at the time. His most recent scandal had been a few months ago. He’d been heading to Aspen to meet some friends but never made it beyond Denver. I’d been called when he’d been picked up strolling through downtown Denver as the ‘naked cowboy,’ drunk as all hell and so high he could’ve visited with the International Space Station.
I hated that I wasn’t surprised to get these calls anymore. Hated that I was only called when he was in the hospital or in a holding cell. But most of all, I hated that trying to help him only made things worse between us.
Two—three months ago, after I’d gotten Blaze off on all charges for the naked cowboy incident, we’d had a huge argument. I told him all this had to stop.
“You can’t keep pulling shit like this, Blaze. You have to grow up.”
“Wow, you really are just like Dad, aren’t you, Wade? All high and mighty, judging everyone else who’s different than you.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
Dad was always the one to yell at Blaze. When he was younger, it was for failing a test, skipping school, not doing his homework, or being caught in the bathroom smoking weed. When he got older, it was for not having a real career. For using his good looks to get by. And no matter how hard Blaze worked, no matter how famous he got, Dad never wasted an opportunity to remind Blaze that fame wouldn’t last, and when his star stopped shining, he would have nothing to stop his crash and burn back into reality.
I didn’t agree with the old man. He was from a different generation, and he didn’t understand Blaze. Meanwhile, I was smart. Analytical. By the book. All things Dad valued and knew how to handle. Unfortunately, it not only drove a wedge between Dad and Blaze but also between my brother and me. No matter how many times I stood up for Blaze or bailed him out, he resented me for being Dad’s favorite. Even when Dad died five years ago, it wasn’t enough to heal the rift he’d caused.
“You’re right. You’re not quite like Dad. Dad never would’ve bailed me out in the first place. But don’t worry, there’s still time for you to elevate into a complete asshole. God forbid Dad learns you haven’t upheld the entirety of his reputation since he’s been gone.”
By that point, Mom was crying and begging me— me— to make it stop. Like I was the reason my brother was drunk and insolent and doing his damnedest to ruin the impressive career he’d built for himself.
“Fine, if that’s what you want me to be. Fine. Don’t fucking call me for help again.”
“I’ll do you one better. I won’t fucking call you, period.”
And that was the last time I’d spoken to Blaze. Mom, on the other hand, called a few weeks after the argument to tell me she’d enrolled Blaze in a rehab program and that he was going to get better. I didn’t even get a chance to consider getting my hopes up before the second call came in a few days later that he’d checked himself out of the program, told her he was going to get better on his own, and then disappeared to God knew where.
“Are they detoxing him? Is he injured? Who is suing him now?” I managed to filter out a curse.
“How dare you?” Mom sobbed, and I felt my jaw tighten. Here we go.
Mom tried to compensate for the way Dad reprimanded Blaze. She coddled him. Gave him extra attention—extra love. She never really caught on that Dad’s attention to me didn’t equate to affection.
So, here we were. A prestigious lawyer. A famous actor. A wealthy widow. One big, wildly dysfunctional family.
“I’m sorry,” I ground out, knowing there was no point. There would never be any sympathy for the man who had to bend over backward to make sure my brother’s reputation remained spotless. Only for him, forever her broken little boy. “What do I need to do?”
“Nothing,” she choked, sniffling. “You don’t need to do anything ? —”
“Mom—”
“I was calling because your brother is in a coma, and I’m on my way up to Maine, but no, sweetheart, there’s nothing you need to do.”
“Jesus. A coma?” I snapped, standing instantly and grabbing my jacket off the back of my chair. I was frustrated, not fucking heartless. “What the hell happened?” I asked, and then thought better about where she’d assume that question was coming from. “Where in Maine?”
“A small town on the coast. Friendship. But he’s at the Stonebar Ridge Hospital.”
“Where are you?” I shoved more papers around until I found my keys.
“I’m having a car take me up there. I already rented a hotel room.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you up there. I’m leaving the office now.” I grabbed my briefcase and hit the lights, saying goodbye as I locked up my office and then headed downstairs to the parking garage. Looked like Heller was going to get to handle the mock trial on Monday after all. I was going to be in Maine for the foreseeable future.
My BMW beeped as I locked the doors, the sound strikingly invasive to the small-town silence surrounding the hospital. I couldn’t remember the last time I was outside of a major city, couldn’t remember the last time I was able to see more stars above me than streetlights around me. It was…unnerving .
“Why the hell did you come here, Blaze…” I muttered, glancing upward before heading toward the entrance.
Stonebar Ridge Hospital was as small and sleepy as the town it was stationed in. It was only three floors, and the parking lot had maybe only a dozen cars parked in it. There wasn’t even a separate emergency room entrance. It was all just…one. And if all of that hadn’t made the whole place seem a little unreal, the fact that there was no one in the waiting room definitely did.
After shoving my way through enough ER crowds to get to the check-in desk and ask about my brother, I was on the cusp of believing I’d just entered the twilight zone, seeing row after row of empty chairs when a very normal, very friendly voice drew my attention.
“Can I help you, sir?”
I looked toward the desk. The receptionist was just returning to her seat with a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. Damn, that smelled good.
I hadn’t eaten dinner before or on my way up here. Usually, on late nights, I’d just microwave a frozen meal at the office, but I couldn’t even spare the three and a half minutes for that before hopping in the car and driving up here.
Three hours to get to Maine, and now my stomach—and brain—felt the toll of 1 a.m.
“Yes. I’m here to see my brother. Blaze Stevens.” I pulled out my wallet and my license, showing her my identification as I searched for her name badge. Kim.
“He’s a popular man,” Kim murmured with a smile and then sighed. “Too bad he’s taken.”
I had no idea what the hell she was talking about, and if I was being honest, 1 a.m. Wade didn’t care…and didn’t like the way her appreciative look suddenly took a bend toward me.
“I can definitely see the resemblance.” Her gaze raked over me like it was seeing a lot more than that.
I swallowed my groan. We were brothers. We looked enough alike at any distance that if we were in the same place, people would pick up on the relationship, and I’d invariably get the questions: “Do you get to watch him be filmed? Do you get to see his movies early? Are you an actor, too? His stunt double?”
Because I was good at my job, I was good at deflecting. The last thing I needed was our strained relationship to take the front page of the tabloids. No one wanted to hear that I didn’t get early access or have the inside scoop on anything having to do with my brother because he didn’t want me there.
“Are you his older brother or younger? Older, I’d bet,” she asked and ruefully answered.
“I’m his lawyer brother,” I added and pulled out a document from my bag. “So, if you wouldn’t mind, Kim, I’m also going to need you to sign this NDA just to protect my brother’s privacy at this vulnerable time.”
Was it sad I kept extra copies in my briefcase for situations like this? Because of all Blaze’s situations like this? Yes, it was.
“An NDA?” Her eyes went wide.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t say anything, but when it comes to my little brother, I need to do my best to shield his condition and whereabouts from everyone who would exploit the information.”
Even though HIPAA was a very real thing, a patient couldn’t personally sue for a HIPAA violation. The violation could only be reported to HHS, who would then have to act. And in my brother’s case, by the time that happened, every tabloid, newspaper, and blog around the globe would know Blaze Stevens was unconscious in some podunk hospital in Maine. Handing out an NDA didn’t eliminate all risks of that happening, but it certainly lessened it.
“I understand, hun. Anything I can do to help.” She signed her name with a flourish and handed me back the paper.
“If you could just point me in the right direction,” I prompted, using my last grain of effort to smile back.
“Of course, hun. He’s being held through those doors, first hallway on your right, fourth door on the left.” Kim leaned over the back of her chair to point to the only doors, other than the exit, inside the waiting room.
“Thanks.” I tipped my chin and headed for the doors, my loafers obnoxiously tapping on the linoleum. A sound I’d never heard before over the chaos of a busy hospital. My hand landed on the doorknob, and I stopped, turning back to her to ask. “Did my mother get here yet?”
Kim nodded while taking a sip of her coffee, holding up a finger that signaled me to wait for her to finish. I regretted asking.
“Yes, she did,” she replied. “About fifteen minutes ago, I believe. It was right before I went to grab a coffee. She was pretty upset. I’m sure she’ll be glad you’re here now with them.”
Them? Who the hell had Mom dragged with her?
An exhale barreled from my chest, my gaze anchoring on the mug in her hand. That was what I needed. “Any chance that coffee is available for hospital guests, too?”
“For Blaze Stevens’s family, it sure is,” she said coyly and winked. “Through the doors, walk straight until you hit the nurse’s station, and you’ll see the fresh pot behind it.”
“Thank you.” Just the thought of coffee had my brain coming back to life.
The sterile, whitewashed arteries of the hospital looked just like every other, and there were more signs of life happening beyond those gateway doors. Nurses. Doctors. A few other visitors stationed in chairs outside of rooms. I kept my focus trained ahead of me, not even chancing a glance in the direction of my brother’s room. If Mom saw me, that would be it. No escape. No mercy. And since there was no chance of finding something stronger to drink at the moment, a large cup of coffee was essential.
The nurse’s station was all the way at the end of the hall. As I approached, I heard whoever was behind the desk before I saw her, the soft mutter, “ You can do this. Just go back there and tell her what happened.”
I rounded the corner and collided with the source of the mutter—the soft, petite source whose arms I caught to stop her from crashing into me.
“Oh, no!” Big hazel eyes went wide behind square glasses, her full, pink lips parting.
I had a split-second to be stunned by her beauty before the pain hit. I’d stopped her from running into me, but not the wave of hot coffee from sloshing over the lip of the mug in her hands. Not exactly my preferred method of coffee absorption.
“Shit—” I broke off with a hiss, my stomach tightening as scalding hot coffee landed on the front of my shirt. My tie. The lapel of my jacket.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” The woman—who somehow managed to come away unscathed and unscorched—stepped back like a deer in headlights. “I’m so, so sorry.” She set the mug on the desk and spun, grabbing a stack of napkins so fast a few of them blew onto the floor in her tailwind. “I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry.”
She couldn’t stop apologizing as she smashed the napkins into my chest, pushing hard enough to make me grunt in an effort to soak up the stain.
“It’s fine,” I rumbled, trying to stop her, but she was in a trance, her small hands rubbing over my chest and abdomen.
“Oh, no. It’s on your tie, too.” She bit into her bottom lip, and my dick twitched.
Fuck, it was not a good time for this—for any of this.
She grabbed my tie between two napkins and, in the process of squeezing it dry, yanked my head down until it almost collided with hers.
“Stop.” My hands covered over hers, and her breath caught.
One a.m. It had to be 1 a.m. in this twilight zone that made my skin come alive to touch her, that made my blood start to pump a little faster, and that made other, lower parts of me stir that definitely should remain sleeping.
Her head tipped up, eyes meeting mine. “I’m sorry,” she murmured for the thousandth time, and for a second, I had the insane thought that if this were one of Blaze’s movies, I’d be a half-second from kissing her in the scene.
One a.m. Twilight zone.
“It’s fine,” I rumbled, peeling my hands and my tie from hers and stepping back. “It’s late, and I could probably use all the caffeine I can get right now.”
She smiled at that. Small. Shy. I let my eyes roam over her while she gathered all the dirty napkins and threw them in the garbage underneath the desk.
She clearly wasn’t a nurse or doctor. No scrubs. No name tag. Her loose pants and shirt were paired with an oversized blazer, the ensemble professional yet relaxed. Her soft brown hair was collected in two braids along the sides of her head. With her glasses, she reminded me of this demure librarian Blaze’s character had been attracted to in his movie More Than a Bet , another modern adaption of George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion, following She’s All That, way back in the nineties.
I rested my shoulder against the wall, perfectly able to imagine some handsome dick like my brother wagering they could transform this bookworm into a beauty.
“Can I at least pour you a mug?” She surprised me by asking.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, but she’d already stationed herself in front of the coffee pot, and as evidenced by our run-in, there wasn’t room for two.
“Please. It’s the least I can do,” she said, the slight catch in her tone telling me there was more to it than that.
“Sure,” I conceded. “Just black, please.”
I watched her grab a fresh travel cup and fill it to the brim, noting with each movement how much more petite she was than she first appeared. My head tipped, assessing her further. Her clothes weren’t so big that they looked ill-fitting, but they were big enough to conceal the slender curves I’d momentarily held against me. Even her braids obscured the length and texture of her hair. Her glasses muted the expressions of her eyes. She was hiding in her own skin—hiding in plain sight. Approachable but also invisible, and I couldn’t help but wonder why.
My tongue ran along the insides of my teeth, itching to ask who she was here with. But if I did that, it invited questions in return, and with Blaze involved, they would all be questions I couldn’t answer.
“Is it decent?”
She set the pot down and looked back at me, confused.
“The coffee?”
“Oh.” Her head bobbed. “It… it’ll get the job done.”
My lips quirked. “Got it.”
“If you want good coffee, I’d recommend The Maine Squeeze. It’s about fifteen minutes south of here in Friendship,” she said as she handed me my cup.
“Oh?”
“We have the best coffee on the coast. And the best pastries.”
“We?”
She sighed and shook her head. “I worked there for a long time. Old habits…” Her small smile was adorable, the way it drew the tiniest dimple on her left cheek…
What the hell, Wade.
A low noise rumbled from my chest as I took a healthy sip of the bitter liquid and winced. The only way I could describe the quality of the coffee was that it was clinically acceptable.
Her gaze rose to mine, pink dusting her cheeks as she waited for me to say something next. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying the flesh just long enough to make my cock more uncomfortable. Dammit. My throat tightened. I could—I wanted to continue the conversation. God, I couldn’t remember the last time I stopped working long enough to even have the energy to be attracted to someone…
But 1 a.m. in the twilight zone when I needed to take care of my brother wasn’t the time.
I stepped to the side so she could exit the desk area. “Thanks,” I said, lifting the cup in my hand slightly and then dipping my chin. “Have a good night.”
The flush in her cheeks deepened as her head bobbed. “You, too,” she murmured and quickly stepped through, her feet padding softly down the hallway.
I watched the sway of her hips all the way until she rounded the corner in the same direction as my brother’s room. Groaning, I turned in the opposite direction and quickly adjusted my dick, muttering a curse as I saw the distinct coffee stain all over the front of my shirt.
I was a fucking mess.
Rolling my shoulders back, I followed the same path as the woman—I hadn’t even gotten her name. For the best, I quickly decided. Sure enough, I was hardly two steps into the hallway to Blaze’s room before Mom’s wail of relief or dismay, it was anyone’s guess, bounced off the walls.
“Oh, Wade. Thank God.”
Of course, Mom was dressed to the nines at one in the morning, her navy pantsuit accented with an army of gold jewelry given to her by Dad. Her blond hair was curled like she’d just taken it out of rollers, but it was her make-up that gave away her distress. Mom cried a lot—wailed, whimpered, pleaded—but she rarely, truly shed tears. However, tonight, the normally precise lines of her eyeliner and armor of mascara were smudged, marred, and, in some areas, missing entirely because she’d actually been crying.
Shit .
I barely managed to hold my coffee mug out of the path of her embrace before she gave me a brief hug and an air kiss on the cheek. Even the way she hugged Blaze and me was different. He always got lingering bear hugs while mine were over before they began. Was it because I didn’t need bear hugs? Or was it because I was taught not to need them?
“I’m here. How is he?” I took a half step back from her and gulped down another mouthful of coffee. This time, the liquid wasn’ t as bitter.
Her hand flapped in front of her face before landing with a thud on her chest. “He’s…in a coma.” Another cry escaped her. “They don’t know…” she paused, unable to continue without drawing a trembling breath. “They don’t know when…or if…he’ll wake up.”
My jaw flexed hard. Dammit, Blaze. Pain wrapped like a band around my chest, worried about my brother. No matter what he thought of me, from the time we were little, all I ever wanted was to protect him. From Dad. From bullies. From the world. From himself.
“What happened?”
“He fell. Down the staircase. At the inn. He was staying at.” Her answer was broken up by uneven gasps for air.
Before I could respond to her, an older man in a white coat approached us. “Mr. Stevens?”
“Yes.” I took his outstretched hand.
“I’m Dr. Cooper. It’s a pleasure to meet you, though I’m very sorry for what happened to your brother.”
“Thank you,” I murmured as Mom let another cry escape. “What exactly is his condition?”
“He hit his head pretty hard on the fall. That, combined with the level of alcohol in his blood, caused a good amount of swelling in his brain.”
Alcohol. It was more than frustration that bottled behind my lips. It was fear. Drunken escapades were one thing, but ending up in a coma.
“Will that go down?”
“In most cases like this, the swelling from the trauma abates on its own, and your brother will wake up once the brain feels safe enough.”
“And how long does that usually take?”
The doctor grimaced. “That can vary. Anywhere from days to months?—”
Mom sobbed again at the mention of months, and without a thought, I reached out and grabbed her shoulder, giving it a squeeze as she dabbed her cheeks.
“Should we move him to a different hospital? Maybe Mass General?—”
“He’s stable right now, Mr. Stevens, so I wouldn’t risk any further trauma by moving him. Right now, it’s a waiting game regardless of what hospital he’s at.”
“I understand.” Unfortunately, it wasn’t only my brother’s care I had to think about, but also his safety. And my options for security in a small-town hospital were vastly different than the ones I had access to back in Boston.
“And there’s nothing you can do for my son?” Mom’s lip quivered. “No medications? No treatment?”
“None that I would recommend at this time, Mrs. Stevens,” the doctor said kindly but firmly like he’d answered these questions from her a few times already. “If we don’t see steady progress over the next couple of days, we can explore alternatives.”
She nodded wordlessly.
“Thank you,” I said the words she couldn’t. “We greatly appreciate your help…and your discretion.”
Dr. Cooper nodded. “We’re a very small community up here, Mr. Stevens. I can’t speak for everyone, but I can say that most folks around here would never intentionally invite attention to someone—anyone—who’s going through a hard time.”
I thanked him again, deciding to give it a day before I still asked him to sign an NDA. As much as I wanted to believe him, I couldn’t. The only answers I ever took at face value were the ones delivered under oath, and even then…
“Why don’t you take a seat, Mom? Take a breath?”
Her shoulders slumped. “My poor baby boy. This is horrible, just horrible, Wade. How could this happen to him? He has such a good heart…”
I gritted my teeth. She was getting worked up again, the tears welling in the corners of her eyes.
“Let’s go sit with him for a few minutes. It’s”—I flicked my wrist to see my watch—“It’s almost two in the morning. You need to sit.” Mom needed sleep. We both did. But there was no way to convince her of that until she calmed down. “Let’s get out of the hallway so you can sit, and we can talk.”
I needed a couple of minutes and another large cup of bitter coffee to figure out what the hell we were going to do.
“You’re right. Of course, you’re right,” she said and sighed, as though my being right always came at the expense of my brother and his happiness.
I downed the last dregs of coffee and threw the cup in the trash.
“Oh, Wade,” Mom said and paused, her hand on the door to Blaze’s room. “I completely forgot. Blaze’s girlfriend is in with him. She’s an angel…a true angel,” she gushed, attempting a watery smile.
I stared at her. Blinked a few times. And then decided I hadn’t heard her right.
“I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “Did you say his girlfriend ?”
“Yes. Elouise.” Mom nodded. “She’s lovely.”
Lovely Elouise.
No. Not a chance. Blaze didn’t have girlfriends—didn’t do girlfriends. He did hook-ups. I knew because I had a whole server dedicated to NDAs from women Blaze had slept with. For some inexplicable reason, it was like women were more turned on by the idea that they had to keep the fling a secret.
“That’s why he’s been up here so long,” she went on with a trembling smile, seeing how I stood frozen in disbelief. “Because he finally found someone.”
I knew for a fact that wasn’t true. I knew just like I knew he wasn’t going to listen to me. I knew just like I knew there was either alcohol or drugs involved in what had happened to him. I knew because I knew my brother. I knew how he lived, and I knew how he struggled. And while there might not be a single other similarity between the two of us, the one trait—or trauma—that we did share was that neither of us knew how to let someone in .
Not like that.
But I kept my mouth shut because Mom’s baby boy was in a coma, and she was obviously clinging to this like it was some kind of silver lining—that Blaze had finally fallen in love. She didn’t need to know this silver lining was nothing more than a silver lie.
Mom opened the door and walked inside. “I’m back, Elouise,” she greeted, a hiccup in her voice. “This is Blaze’s brother, Wade. We were just talking with the doctor.”
I kept my head down as I entered, making sure the door was firmly shut before I searched for the woman who was invariably trying to take advantage of my brother’s fame or fortune or both. And just like everything else in my brother’s life, I’d handle this problem for him, too.
From the side of the bed, she looked at me. Big hazel eyes behind square frames. Hair braided back on either side of her head. And full, pink lips parted like they were just waiting to be kissed.
“You?” I croaked.
The unassuming coffee nymph was Blaze’s supposed girlfriend?