Until You Break, Stepbrother

Chapter One

Hannah

No good deed goes unpunished.

It’s a lesson I’ve learned the hard way.

I’ve trusted my gut rather than following due process.

I’ve helped people I shouldn’t have. Both of which generally turned out to be mistakes, despite my good intentions.

Yet, it’s still why I joined the medical profession.

I wanted to be there, to ease a burden if possible and care for the injured, the suffering, and the dying.

I don’t regret my choice at all, even though the complaints that follow may suggest otherwise. It’s hard not to grumble and doubt myself, after a single decision sent my life into a spiral. One I can’t recover from.

Still, I did do my job. It seems simple on paper.

Or in a medical chart. I gave an ailing man medicine, when no one else would ever listen to his complaints, let alone treat him.

He cried and wailed through an entire night about his unbearable pain, and begged for any relief we could offer.

The rest of the staff shrugged him off, calling him a junkie looking to score his next fix.

I can’t really blame them, as everything in his records confirmed as much.

But it takes a keen eye to spot a difference. Something nurses and doctors have to develop early in their careers. We have to be able to sniff out the bullshit of a tweaker but also to know when it’s the real deal.

If I were a betting woman, I would have put my money on the hospital not wanting to treat him because they didn’t want to foot the bill.

They hoped that if they pushed him aside and ignored the screaming, he’d eventually leave to find another way to get drugs.

However, their corporate mentality and careless attitude aren’t in my nature.

So, I did what I thought was right. No, what I knew was right.

I gave him enough to stop his pain. It was barely a taste if he was an addict, nowhere near enough to get high. Just enough to help him bear another few hours while waiting for his cure.

As far as good deeds go, my actions barely counted.

Yet, they had irrevocable consequences for my life.

They’re the reason I’m in this diner. Staring at my phone and waiting patiently instead of reaching for it.

I watch the smiley, happy people who surround me instead.

I know that when I check it, there won’t be anything positive waiting for me.

No kind words or sympathy. No interview offers in my inbox.

I didn’t stand a chance. I went against the protocol and I was blacklisted from the industry as a punishment.

In tough times, it’s good to remind yourself that you can’t have rainbows without a little bit of rain. And although today and the meeting I must get through will be painful, there has to be a brighter tomorrow somewhere on the horizon.

If there isn’t, what’s the point of going on at all?

The sound of a bell ringing over the main entry door abruptly cuts off my thoughts. A menacing presence stands in the doorframe.

He slips his hat off with one gloved hand, while his other hand glides over the slicked-back, black hair beneath it. Apathetic ice-blue eyes drink in the diner and its inhabitants, giving little away about his feelings toward the place.

I gulp at the sight of him. He is tall, broad, and imposing in appearance.

He gazes at each table with calculated caution.

He gives each guest a quick inspection and a faint look of disapproval before moving on to the next.

His jaw clenches for the briefest second when his eyes fall on me, then stay glued in place.

Heat suddenly rushes up from my belly while I glare at him, awestruck and with my mouth agape. He’s the man I’ve been waiting for.

Vik Bennett. My stepbrother.

It might seem strange that I didn’t recognize him immediately, but there’s a good reason for that.

We haven’t seen each other in thirteen years.

Not since the day his father married my mother.

At that time Vik was eager to get out and forge his own path in this world.

Judging by the way he carries himself in an expensive suit that covers a body carved with muscle, I’d say he’s done exactly that.

Hell, even the way he walks is enough to convey the message. Long, proud strides that exude confidence and power. Like he owns the world and the rest of us are lucky to be living in it.

He reaches my table, but doesn’t sit immediately. He hovers over me, blocking out the overhanging light behind him.

I gulp again, this time nervously, knowing that I have to ask this intimidating beast a favor.

“Hello, Hannah,” he says, so calm and serene that my heart stops dead.

“Good God, you’ve gotten big,” I say, almost forgetting the fact he wasn’t much more than a boy when he left our parents’ home.

There’s no trace of that boy left here, now. Vik is all man, and it’s really working for him.

A waitress shuffles over to our table with the same look on her face as mine. Shock, mostly, layered with a subtle hint of intrigue that she can’t hide.

“Welcome to Barry’s,” she says. “Can I get you something to drink?”

I scoff at the put-on, cutesy voice she’s doing for him. She greeted me with an early morning grumble and a hasty comin’ right up when I gave her my coffee order.

“No. I won’t be here long.” Vik doesn’t even glance at her.

“I’ll be right over there if you need me.” She points to a spot at the counter, beside a vintage jukebox with a yellowed Out-of-Order sign stuck to the glass panel.

Instead of answering, Vik just sits. He is still staring at me. It’s a look I’d be thrilled to bask in if it were from anyone other than my stepbrother.

“How have you been, Hannah?” he asks, when the ditzy blonde is out of earshot.

His question strikes an aching chord in my chest. I am embarrassed that I’m jealous of some chick hitting on my stepbrother, but more ashamed that I’ve found myself in such a sticky situation.

I mustn’t forget that last part. It’s why I’m here.

“I’ve been…” I pause uncomfortably before I get to the answer. This is it. The day I’ve dreaded since I helped that guy in the hospital. It won’t do me any good to lie now, but honesty is a lot harder to come by when I’m getting lost in his striking blue eyes. “I’ve been better. How are you?”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” he says. “I take it that’s why you wanted to meet?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone,” I say.

“Then how can I help you, Hannah?”

The way he asks the question makes me choke on the dryness in my mouth. No familial posturing or reassuring smile for the sister he hasn’t seen in years. He’s merely staring through me, the way I’m sure he does to all the corporate titans who think they can walk over him.

“I… uhm…”

I’ve rehearsed this speech a thousand times over the past few days. Polished every phrase and practiced every word. Sitting here, though, my mind goes empty, leaving me vacant and bare for him to see.

“They let me go from my job…”

Good, I got it out. But there’s no time for a sigh of relief, as his brow lifts above one eye and a knowing twinkle splashes over his face.

I wait for him to say something. Anything. It doesn’t come. He remains still, letting me carry the weight of the conversation. Fair is fair, I suppose, but I’d take a pained grumble over this silence any day.

“The hospital had to make cuts,” I add.

I’ve reached out over the years, but I quickly learned that Vik isn’t much for small talk.

His low enthusiasm didn’t bother me when things were good.

I wasn’t contacting him to make our relationship thrive.

I simply wanted to keep it alive. Now, every word I say is another dagger plunged deeper in my chest. I am reminded that I am sitting in front of my wealthy stepsibling, with my hat in my hand, figuratively, asking for a handout.

If the embarrassment from before doesn’t kill me, the shame of what follows surely will.

“Seems foolish in our crisis-ridden climate.” He tilts his head to the side.

“That’s what I said.” Only, I didn’t just say it. I shouted it with emotional fury. “But they say there isn’t enough money for a full complement of staff.”

“Have you looked at other hospitals? Clinics?” If there’s emotion in his voice, I can’t gauge what it is. No skepticism, concern, or anything in between.

It’s business as usual.

“I’ve been looking for months but all I’ve gotten is apologies and rejection letters,” I admit, honestly. It feels good to tell the truth, when I believed this conversation would be one lie after another.

“Then I’ll ask you again.” Vik draws his hat from under the table and rests it atop his perfectly shaped hair. “What is it I can help you with, Hannah?”

Swallowing my pride, I let my head sink to the table. It’s old, dirty and the once-white top is layered with coffee-stained circles that have been etched so deep into the wood, they’ve become a feature.

To say he’s well off is an understatement. He runs a billion-dollar tech company with cell phones and smart gadgets that have made his brand a household name. But it doesn’t matter how much he has, asking for it stings just the same.

“I need help.” It’s barely a whisper, but he hears me. “I can’t go to my mom. I don’t want her stressing about me, and—I’ll pay you back with interest if that helps.”

It takes a long time to find the strength to lift my head and face Vik again. And all the while, he stays silent. Mulling my statement over in his head.

“Hannah, I’m not going to give you money,” Vik says, once the contemplation ceases.

Tears rush to my eyes as hopelessness returns in full force.

“Instead, I’ll offer you a place to stay while you job hunt and find your feet again,” he adds, before I can fall too deeply into despair.

“Are you sure?”

“A couple of bucks will buy you another month, maybe two. We’d end up in the same place, at a worse time,” he says, and shifts in his seat as if he’s going to stand up.

“You’re leaving already?” I ask. I’m sort of glad, knowing we won’t have to sit in the awkwardness of what has just happened. But I’m also somewhat devastated, and feel like I owe him a cup of coffee at the very least. “I thought we’d… I don’t know, catch up or something.”

“I have business elsewhere.” He gets up and leaves with the same swagger in his step as he had on his arrival.

I watch him go, unable to turn away. I stare after the man who single-handedly saved me, and changed my life all in a single sentence.

I finally let out a much-awaited sigh of relief, but part of me cuts it short midway.

Sure, I’ve gotten the help I need, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s a mistake somehow.

Apart from our history, we’re almost strangers.

He doesn’t know me, and my failed attempts to stay in touch aside, I don’t know him.

A text message on my phone cuts my deliberation short. It’s the first I’ve received in months and, no matter how our estranged relationship may impact the situation, it’s the only message that matters.

Vik has sent me his address and a very simple message.

See you soon, Hannah.