Chapter 5
Brandon
The rhythmic beeping of Evie’s heart rate monitor fills the sterile silence as her chest gently rises and falls. She fell asleep so quickly. Almost as soon as she closed her eyes, her breathing evened out, and the permanent scowl fixed to her face whenever I’m around disappeared.
She needed this rest.
Sighing, my gaze follows the delicate curve of her cheek, tracing the wound on her temple that will inevitably scar, before it falls to her full lips.
She looks so young and soft like this. When she’s awake, she looks every bit the stubborn, twenty-something Spitfire she really is.
But right now . . . this sleeping beauty’s guard is down, and I’m getting a rare glimpse of the girl I miss.
She lets out the softest of sighs in her sleep, and my heart clenches with feelings I can no longer deny—no matter how hard I try. Longing. Need.
Love.
I would do anything, give anything, to turn back the hands of time and undo what I did.
I pull the chair I’m sitting in closer to the bed, unable to keep my distance.
That was always the problem. As hard as I try to deny it, I am still drawn to Evie like a moth to a flame.
Her quick wit, fiery spirit, and dry sense of humor are but of the few qualities that make her irresistible to me.
She is beautiful, captivating—inside and out.
Her lips are a little too full, her cheekbones a little too round.
Her bronze skin, coffee-colored eyes, and caramel-brown hair all give her an air of warmth that reminds me of roasting chestnuts by an open fire.
In fact, she is the flame. My Spitfire . . .
As much as I hate to admit it, there was the allure of the forbidden where Evie was concerned.
She was destined to be my sister in all but blood—according to Jamie’s obvious albeit unspoken rules.
She was never meant to be on my romantic radar.
In fact, for the longest time, I never saw her as much more than an annoying kid sister.
As soon as I realized I was attracted to Evie, I knew I was doomed, despite how hard I tried to keep her at arm’s length.
I knew Jamie would castrate me if I so much as looked at her the wrong way.
Heck, I wanted to castrate myself the second I started desiring her.
But I also wasn’t the type to walk away if I wanted someone.
And how quickly I had come to want Evie . . .
Virtually overnight, things changed between us.
And while the intensity of my sudden desire for her had shocked me at first, it also made complete sense.
What we have . . . had . . .went beyond the physical.
I loved her, from the very beginning, although not in a romantic sense.
My bond with her has deep, almost untraceable roots.
And as strange as it may seem, or as cliche as it might sound, the closer we got, the more it started to feel like she was made for me—my perfect match.
In every way possible. The Eve to my Adam.
I don’t know if God designs us a perfect match or if there’s such a thing as a soul mate.
But one thing I do know is He knits together the one our soul comes to love.
And I also know—without a shadow of a doubt—that my soul, my very essence loves Genevieve.
This stubborn, infuriating young woman whom I routinely lose sleep over holds my heart captive under lock and key and has for quite some time.
The truth of the matter is that I am in love with Genevieve Montgomery.
It’s as simple and as complicated as that.
Evie’s fingers twitch at her side, and I take her hand in mine.
It’s chilled and clammy to the touch. I gently rub it between mine, wanting to keep her warm.
Kissing her knuckles every so often, I gaze at her.
Her eyeliner has smudged, making her under eye circles look that much worse.
That bold red lip she wears has melted away, exposing the natural blush of her pout.
And those freckles . . . A constellation of them swirl across her delicate features like a starry night, concentrating around her button nose. If she’d let me, I would kiss every single one.
She’s beautiful. Breathtaking. Even when she’s not trying.
Her eyelids flutter, and I keep still, not wanting to rouse her.
She sighs again, deeper this time. Oh, Lord. I love her . . .
Evie puts up a good front, but I know she’s hurting.
As a child, she had to be the center of attention at all times.
She used to be vivacious—full of life, happiness, smiles.
She would dance, sing, chat your ear off.
In fact, she wouldn’t shut up. Jamie duck taped her mouth shut once, but that didn’t keep her from chatting garbled nonsense.
She thrived off our laughter and applause.
She would bust out in song and dance whenever she wanted, wherever you were.
It was as endearing as it was annoying. Everyone thought she’d grow up to become a singer, dancer, or actress—or maybe even a combination of all three.
But a rain cloud eclipsed her sunny disposition before she’d even hit puberty.
Her parents divorced when she was only ten years old—and her mother skipped town shortly after that.
Both Jamie and Evie still have no contact with her, and it wasn’t for a lack of trying on their part.
It’s as though she disappeared off the face of the planet.
After that, there were only three people who could get Evie to laugh or smile. Those people were me, Jamie, and Maggie. Now, I can barely get Evie to look at me, let alone crack a smile.
Evie might project a convincing image of stone-cold strength and resiliency, but deep down, I know her heart is a bubbling cauldron of emotion. On the inside, she’s still that whimsical, happy-go-lucky girl—the one who used to look at me like I hung the stars.
I’m determined to bring that girl back to life.
When I look up from our intertwined hands, Evie’s gazing at me. I sit up. “Evie. How long have you been awake?”
Her expression is cryptically blank. She squints, taking me in like she’s never seen me before, before glancing at the analog clock on the wall. Then she frowns at me. “Who are you?”
My heart drops.
She grins. “Kidding.”
I huff, torn between amusement and relief. “Not funny.”
“I beg to differ,” she says as she struggles to sit up.
Bouncing to my feet, I help her raise the bed. Once she’s sitting upright, the room floods with tension. “How are you feeling?” I wonder, looking her over. She looks a little green.
She shrugs, then winces. “I’ve been better.” Her eyes dart to the door. “Nothing from imaging yet?”
When we got to the hospital, Evie was in so much pain that she was convinced she had broken her back. After getting triaged, they took her down to imaging to do an x-ray, and we’ve been waiting on the results ever since.
I take a seat. “No word yet.” I look around the room, wishing we could go beyond small talk, but I know Evie won’t open up to me again—even if I were to ask all the right questions. I used to be her closest, most trusted confidant, but those days are long gone.
“Thanks for sticking around,” she mumbles after a moment.
Surprised, I nod. She’s picking at her thumbnail, obviously embarrassed.
Shortly after she was admitted, I called her dad, but he wasn’t willing to brave the weather to come visit.
Evie blamed her borderline hysterical response to this news on the pain, but I knew the truth; she was hurt and lashing out.
I had planned to stay with her regardless, but someone would have had to drag me out of here by my hair after I saw how heartbroken she was.
“What were you doing in those few seconds before the accident?” I ask to fill the silence, unable to keep the edge of accusation out of my voice. “Were you texting?”
“What? Of course not! I was—” She touches her throat. “Oh, no. Bert.”
“Bert?”
“A client,” she moans, closing her eyes. “He’s probably worried sick about me right now. I told him I would be over to drop off some leftovers . . .”
A muscle in my neck jumps as a replay of the car accident flashes through my mind.
She was out on the road in the middle of a blizzard to deliver some Thanksgiving leftovers to a client.
Why am I not surprised? Once she’s feeling better, I’m going to kill her myself for being so reckless.
A small part of me wonders if she put herself in harm’s way on purpose.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
Her eyebrows pull together. “Wait, what were you doing out there?”
I have no idea what I’m supposed to say. I can’t exactly tell her that I was following her, now can I?
I’m saved by a knock on the door. Evie jumps and winces as she sits up, and I make a mental note to let the nurse know she needs more pain meds.
A physician in a white lab coat pokes his head in. “Genevieve Montgomery?”
“Just Evie.”
He steps into the room and closes the door behind him. “Hi, Evie. I’m Dr. Ramirez.” He pauses to sanitize his hands, then gives us both a brief handshake. “Nice to meet you both. Wish it were under better circumstances.” He turns to me. “Are you the husband?”
“N—”
“Nope,” Evie interrupts. “Just a friend.”
I frown at her. Will she ever let that go?
Evie simply smiles at me.
“Right,” Dr. Ramirez says, nodding soberly as he looks between us.
“Well . . . Evie and friend,” he repeats hesitantly, emphasizing the word in the way Evie did.
“Your x-ray results have come back.” He takes a deep breath, like he’s bracing himself for a conversation he doesn’t want to have, and I automatically tense up.
“Would you like the good news or the bad news first?”