2. Easton
EASTON
“Do you know how this looks for me? My sons, beating the shit out of somebody in the hospital parking lot. Mere yards away from where I work!”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dad turn this shade of red. His chiseled face is almost purple by the time he drops into the high-backed leather chair behind the desk in his office three floors up from the hospital lobby.
Some things I’m used to. Like hearing about Dad’s position as hospital chief. His reputation. How we have to keep our family’s position in mind. Same shit, different day.
That’s why I’m able to take him basically screaming in my face without flinching. I get the feeling it only pisses him off when I don’t react, which is exactly why I keep my face blank and my back straight instead of cowering and begging him to understand the way he wants us to.
My brother has never been good at keeping his mouth shut, though. “Don’t you even want to hear why we were doing it?” he snaps before folding his arms. “Doesn’t it even matter there was a reason?”
“Do you think I give a shit about your reason for beating your sister’s boyfriend badly enough that he is currently being treated in the emergency room?
” Dad points a finger downward, motioning toward the ER a few floors down from where he is currently chewing us both out.
“What were you thinking? What is wrong with you? It’s not bad enough I’ve got your sister being held for observation after the fall she took?
Now I need to worry about you two getting yourselves arrested?
And for what? Accidents happen. Putting Brody in the hospital isn’t going to help her get well. ”
I’m pretty good at keeping quiet if it means making sure he doesn’t explode any worse than he already has. There’s also only so much I can take before I need to clear some shit up.
“It wasn’t an accident,” I mutter. Preston groans softly. But I ignore him—he might have promised Sarah not to tell Dad about her confession to us, but I didn’t. “Sarah didn’t have an accidental fall. That’s not how she ended up with a broken arm and cracked ribs, Dad.”
His eyes narrow before his voice drops to a whisper that means danger. “What are you saying?”
“Great,” Preston grunts.
Too late to turn back now. “She made us swear not to tell you,” I explain as my twin shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “But she also made us swear not to do anything to him, and we already broke that promise.”
Dad’s nostrils flare with every short breath. “Brody did that to Sarah?”
“He knows exactly why we jumped him in the parking lot,” I mutter.
Maybe there’s something wrong with me, but the memory of catching him by surprise and systematically kicking the shit out of him makes my dick twitch a little.
That helpless look on his face, the way he covered his head with his arms and whimpered.
And all it did was make me want to hurt him more, because I could only imagine my younger sister begging him to stop hitting her. Every kick, every punch, was payback.
Until that nosy bitch got in the way.
The phone on Dad’s desk rings, slicing through the uneasy silence that’s filled the room while he absorbs the truth.
“Yes?” he snaps when he answers, but his tone softens right away.
“I see. Right. That lines up with what I’ve heard.
” He looks at the two of us, standing side-by-side in front of his desk, before heaving a sigh.
Preston slides a look my way that I catch from the corner of my eye.
I know what he’s thinking—one of the things about being a twin is pretty much knowing what’s happening in his head without having to ask.
And this isn’t the first time we’ve stood in front of Dad, getting our asses chewed over something or other.
It’s obvious from the way Dad’s posture changed that he knows we’re telling the truth, meaning whatever punishment he was dreaming up before now is going to be a lot easier to deal with.
Still, we wouldn’t be in this position in the first place if it wasn’t for that nosy bitch in the parking lot.
I mean, how fucking ignorant could she be, sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong?
It was none of her business, but that didn’t stop her from trying to be a hero or whatever the hell she thought she was doing by getting Frank to come out and stop us.
“All right. I see what you mean. I’ll deal with it on this side.
And thank you,” Dad adds before hanging up the phone.
Instead of going back to threatening us, he leans back in his chair and rubs his temples.
It’s like he shrinks a little, too, under the weight of everything pressing down on him.
“I don’t need this. Why do you insist on putting me in this position? ”
His eyes slowly open before finding us again. “That was Paul Wilder. He’s down in the ER, where he just finished questioning Brody.”
All it takes is hearing his name to set my teeth on edge.
That motherfucker. I’m not sure what pisses me off more: what he did, or the way he thought he could get away with it.
I’d be on my way down there now to finish what I started if I didn’t know Dad would stop me before I made it through the ER doors.
That’s not even the worst part, either. The worst part is knowing he would have gotten away with it if Sarah didn’t break down crying while we sat with her in the curtained-off area, waiting for the results of her x-rays.
Please, don’t tell Dad. Don’t tell anybody.
The memory is sharp and clear—her tear-stained face, the way her voice shook with fear and pain, the way she looked so small and broken and bruised.
What I wouldn’t give for the chance to kick his ass again. Once wasn’t enough.
“And?” Preston never could wait for Dad to get through a story.
“And… Brody is not going to press charges against you.”
“Why not?” I demand, because I’m not stupid. This is too easy.
“Because… you know what he did.” Dad closes his eyes, grimacing. “I cannot believe this is the decision I’m faced with. He’ll stay quiet so long as we stay quiet about what he did to Sarah.”
“No way!” I didn’t plan on blurting it out. But it comes out of me before I can help it.
Preston is with me. “Dad, this is bullshit! We can’t let him get away with this!”
“You beat the shit out of him. Two on one. There is a witness out there who will confirm that. Do you realize what a judge would do to you if given a chance? I won’t have my sons carrying a police record around with them for the rest of their lives—no matter the reason why,” he adds when we both try to argue.
“But it’s Sarah,” I mutter, not that it makes a difference. We’re supposed to stand back and let some asshole beat our sister and not do anything about it?
“I’m sure your hearts were in the right place.” Dad speaks slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully to keep things from getting any worse. I guess I should be glad, since it’s better than him losing his shit on us, but now it feels like he’s being patronizing. I fucking hate being patronized.
“Oh, that’s bullshit,” I mutter. I can’t help it.
We’re talking about Sarah, the little sister who Preston and I have protected since we were kids, and he throws some empty words around.
He’s the one who used to make a big deal of us taking care of her back when he wanted us to bond or whatever; then he turns around and pulls this meaningless shit out of thin air?
“So your heart wasn’t in the right place?
” Before I can say a word, Dad makes a slashing motion with his hand.
“Enough. I am trying like hell to keep it together. I just found out my seventeen-year-old daughter is being abused by her boyfriend, and I can’t press charges against the bastard unless I want my sons spending time behind bars. ”
And because he can’t leave well enough alone, he has to throw his hands into the air before adding, “Let’s not get started on what a scandal like this would mean for the hospital.
My twin sons, beating an unarmed kid half to death in the parking lot.
The Board would demand my resignation before sunrise. ”
Would they? It’s not like he’s never exaggerated to make a point. For all I know, though, that’s exactly what would happen if word got out. If you’re somebody who ends up on the Board of Directors of a big, respected hospital, you have to care about optics and shit like that.
With a heavy sigh, he asks, “Could the two of you think for just a minute about how your actions might affect someone else? Is that too much to handle?”
My brother sucks in a sharp breath that tells me he’s about to unload on Dad, and something makes me stop him.
I don’t know what. I only know I reach out to grab his arm before he has a chance to say anything we’ll both end up regretting.
That’s how it’s always been. There’s no punishing us separately.
If he fucks up, says the wrong thing, we’ll both end up paying for it.
Right now, no matter how much I don’t feel like it, I need to kiss a little ass. “What do you want us to do?” I ask Dad, still gripping Preston’s arm. Keep your mouth shut.
Dad rolls his eyes and sighs again before lifting a shoulder.
“Honestly, I want the two of you out of my sight for now. But don’t think this gets you off the hook,” he adds.
“We are going to revisit this tomorrow, after I’ve had time to put my thoughts together.
Try and see if you can make it home without potentially destroying my career and wrecking your lives in the process. ”
The look I give Preston is enough to keep his mouth shut—either that, or he’s aware enough to know if we don’t leave now, we might not get the chance without having our asses handed to us.