Текст книги "Vulture a Stepbrother Romance"

Автор книги: Emilia Beaumont

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

My legs went from under me, and pain shot through my arm as one of the police officers reached for me. More bruises to add to the others, I thought. What was one more? I was already a black and blue canvas…

Strong, capable arms wrapped around me as I crumbled into a wail of sadness. Somewhere deep in my mind, I knew that the man was still speaking, consoling me. Yet none of the words penetrated the overwhelming emotions that were trying to smother me. My hand curled around the police officer’s vest, holding on.

“Is there anyone we can call for you?”

I was sitting on the couch again, Officer Pierce next to me, holding my uninjured hand. He and his bearded partner had introduced themselves after I’d calmed down, but I couldn’t remember the other man’s name. All I could think about was how nice Officer Pierce was to sit with me and reminded myself that I must thank him later for his kindness, even though I knew he was just doing his duty. He probably did this all the time, sick to death of consoling widows in shock.

“No, I’m OK. What happens now? I’ve never…”

I didn’t want to think about Eric, his body or what I was supposed to do with it, not right now, but I knew I had to keep it together. I couldn’t embarrass myself again today in front of these gentlemen—Eric would be so ashamed of me if I did.

Officer Pierce smiled. “We need to take you to the hospital.”

“OK, I’ll go get changed,” I said, nodding, as I suddenly realised I was still in my robe and no bra to speak of. Eric had told me to get changed, and I didn’t listen to him. Ashamed, heat rose upon my cheeks; they’d probably had a right eyeful, I thought. I pulled the gap to my robe closed as I got to my feet, all too aware that my cleavage had been on display.

In a daze I’d managed to dress myself and later sat quietly in the back of the police car as they drove me to the hospital. The only noise was the occasional squawk of the police radio up front and the rumble of the tarmac beneath the wheels. My mind filled with blank thoughts as I stared out the window at everyone just going about their normal everyday lives, whilst mine was being turned upside down.

I was alone, with no one left to care for me. Eric was lying cold and lifeless somewhere, unable to help me. Even after everything he’d put me through, I still didn’t know how I was going to survive without him.

I looked up, and Officer Pierce was opening the car door for me. “Mrs Chambers?” Too lost in my own pity party, I hadn’t even realised we’d arrived.

They escorted me into the hospital, the thick odour of antiseptic and sickness greeting us as soon as we breached the entrance. I walked ahead of the men, though they occasionally led the way, pointing out which corridor to take next as we made our way deeper within the maze-like building. They must do this often, I thought, to know the way so easily.

We finally arrived at a quiet station, only one nurse behind the sage green counter. “This is Mrs Chambers,” Officer Samuels—I finally remembered his name—informed the expectant nurse. She nodded.

I wanted to speak, to ask where my husband was, but the massive lump in my throat had other ideas, and I was too weak and drained to fight past it.

The nurse inclined her head and came from around the station. “This way please,” she said and began to walk forward down another bland corridor, and I followed. Realising the officers weren’t coming with us, I turned and provided Officer Pierce with a timid smile of thanks before he took his leave.

Our footsteps padded against the icy marbled floor. The sound they made matched the loud rhythm of my heart. My belly was in a knot, as if a pair of invisible hands gripped my intestines, twisting them without mercy. Trying to be brave, I continued to follow the other woman, curling my fingers until my nails burrowed deep into my skin, deep enough to leave dents and to cause the cut to throb.

I concentrated on the scratched corridor walls, avoiding looking ahead. Taking in the happy yellow painted surface as if the shade could bring some cheer back into the lives of those who’d made this dreaded journey. Dents marred the surface, plaster chipped away little by little by laden trolleys grazing the walls. The pictures dotted periodically along the corridor were inexpensive, sympathetic prints of heartening scenery. Too sunny and bright for this area of the hospital, I thought. It was as if they were trying to compensate for all the gloom that penetrated the walls over the years.

Above the blue double doors an aged sign read Morgue.

My feet halted. Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to walk through the doors, to stroll inside as if nothing significant waited for me, as if I were about to visit a friend. Nothing about this was normal.

If I walked through, everything about this day became real, it would become official. It would mean my husband was dead, and the hope that I clung to that it was all a big mistake would be stripped away from me.

“Ma’am?” the nurse’s voice cut through the silence, bringing me back to earth as I nodded and began to walk again. I had to do this. I had to be strong.

I can do this.

I repeated it over and over again, playing it inside my head like a mantra. Yet when I stepped closer to the double doors, I stopped once again. I felt my body shake in uncontrollable shivers, but I drew in a breath and pushed onwards.

“When you’re ready, we can go in and see your husband,” she said with a reassuring pat upon my arm.

“I-I’m ready,” I stuttered. Shivering, I pulled my sweater closer to my body as I attempted to drive away the cold that had set up home in my bones. The type of cold that makes you feel like you’ll never feel the touch of warmth ever again.

Antiseptic mingled with bleach, and the unusual smell closed around me. The hair at the back of my neck rose and prickled at the odd feeling that gripped me. Death was in the house, and it felt like he was watching me with mild amusement.

The room was eerily quiet; it felt deserted, vacant even. Soulless. Feeling a rise of hysteria and panic, I tried to look at anything other than the lone trolley covered with a pale blue sheet in the middle of the room.

“Mrs Chambers?” A man who seemed to be in his forties, a dusting of grey at his temples, approached my side. “Come this way, please,” he asked as he placed his fingertips upon my elbow, leading me closer to the centre, ever closer to the figure beneath the sheet.

“Is there no one who can be with you?” he asked. His voice was kind, his face softened with age.

I shook my head.

“OK, then. When you are ready I will pull away the sheet. Let me know as soon as you can if you can identify the body. Take your time.”

I nodded for him to proceed, to get it over and done with as soon as possible.

My hands were clammy with perspiration as the doctor lifted the corner of the sheet. He pulled it back to reveal a familiar yet distorted face beneath.

It’s over.

Exhaling the breath I’d been holding I responded, “That’s my husband. That’s Eric.”

I was surprised by my lack of reaction; my eyes stayed dry, my heartbeat was steady and my breathing was a little fast, but only due to the lengths I’d walked. All the way down to the morgue, it had felt like I was about to go into meltdown at any moment, but now that I was there, seeing for myself his expressionless face, a blanket of calm came over me.

Eric looked so small, so powerless lying there, his upper torso discoloured and bruised, his face misshapen. Lifeless, he bared no resemblance to who he’d been in his forty-odd years. And for the briefest of seconds my calmness was replaced with relief.

Appalled at myself, I brought a hand to my mouth, and let appropriate tears escape and wash over my cheeks.

Eric was dead.

I was left alone in the world. And all I could keep thinking was: thank god it was over.

I’d found a chair not far from the nurse’s station and sat alone with my thoughts, unsure of what I was supposed to do next, letting the hours dwindle away. It didn’t seem right to just leave him there and go back to our home alone without him. I’d waited for someone official to come find me, to give me some guidance, but no one approached me. Even the collection of leaflets that were spread haphazardly on the small table beside me could not help me navigate this unknown territory. It seemed like there was a leaflet for everything but what to do when a family member died.

A loud male voice penetrated my thoughts, and I glanced up. Taken aback at seeing my stepbrother Harvey walk towards me, I got to my feet, puzzled at why he was here. I hadn’t called him, didn’t want to bother anyone with my troubles. A blonde-haired woman followed behind him, an expensive handbag flung across her shoulder, her nose inches away from her phone.

As Harvey approached, my pulse quickened, as it always did whenever I saw him. There was just something about his presence, his dominating stature in a room, that made me uneasy. His neutral face, solid jawline and broad cheekbones, bore no expression. Beneath the surface, though, I detected a whiff of annoyance, or maybe I was reading too much into his stoic features.

Judging from his clothing, dressed from top to bottom in exquisite formal attire, it was clear he’d been on a date, the lady behind him the lucky woman in question. No wonder he looked mildly pissed, I thought. I’d ruined their evening.

“You shouldn’t have come,” I said as he invaded the space in front of me. Gifted with height, he towered over me, his shoulders, thick and expansive enclosed within his suit jacket, made him look more formidable, too. His inside shirt hugged his defined torso. I let my eyes fall, feeling guilty that he’d come all this way, and I watched as his chest puffed out as he inhaled, the crisp white shirt stretching slightly with each controlled breath.

“Sara, you couldn’t have kept me away,” he replied as I met his clear blue eyes. There was a flash of pity? Or was it worry?

We stood for a beat looking at each other before he pulled me towards him and took me in his arms.

“How did you know?” I asked, my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat thudding steadily. I was dangerously on the verge of tears. Enveloped in his arms, I’d never felt safer, and my body shook with grief. The tremors were not for my husband but for the loss of something I never thought I needed. My body was on overload. I couldn’t remember the last time someone held me as tight as this, put their whole self into a hug. Officer Pierce had done his best with his handholding, but this was something much more intense. I didn’t want Harvey to let me go.

“Someone from the hospital called me. I should’ve been here sooner. I’m so sorry, Sara.”

“They told me he didn’t suffer, it was painless,” I said, believing his apology was sympathy for my loss.

He pulled and looked down at me. “Pity. I never liked the bastard anyway.”

3

Harvey

Sara looked lost when I first spotted her at the end of the corridor. Hunched over in her seat, her body broken in more ways than one.

My stepsister wasn’t the greatest looking beauty in the world, but she’d had this light when I first met her, something that pulled you in, that made you want to be around her—a spirit that told the world to fuck off, that she could do anything. But over time, it faded to nothingness. She spent less and less time with the family, pushing us away, happily building up her new life with her husband, or at least that’s what I’d thought.

But the woman I saw before me, shrunken and wrecked, paled in comparison to the confident girl I’d met a few years ago when our parents had married in their golden years. I almost didn’t recognise her.

A strong feeling of dread gripped me as I held her in my arms. She shook like a leaf, and all I wanted to do was to make it stop. This couldn’t all be due to the sudden death of her husband. Or maybe it was. I had no comparison to draw from, no emotional investments made or lost. I rubbed her arms; through her cardigan I felt her pliable flesh give way to my touch. So different to the stick figure I’d had my hands on earlier.

“He had his faults, I suppose,” she considered, replying to my earlier outburst. I regretted saying the words, I should’ve held them back, been more sympathetic, but in my world if you didn’t say what you meant right away it was considered pandering.

“Ignore me, I had a shitty night.” I was grateful, though, that this little emergency had gotten me out of another boring award’s ceremony. Another mandatory circle-jerk for the board of directors.

Sara’s eyes flickered to the left, reminding me that Sadie, my personal assistant and secretary, was standing off to the side.

“Two seconds, I’ll be right back and I’ll get you home, OK?”

She nodded and flung her arms around her curvy torso as soon as I stepped away.

“Anything I can do?” Sadie asked, her voice hushed so as not to let Sara overhear.

“No, I think I can take it from here. I’ll probably need you to make some arrangements in the morning for Sara, though. We’ll take the car now. Will you be all right to take a cab back?”

“Yeah, of course. Oh, before I go. That thing from earlier—I presume you want it thoroughly handled? The usual pump-and-dump?”

I almost laughed at her crudeness but choked it back at the last moment—not the right place or time. But comments like that were the very reason we got on so well; Sadie was practically a carbon copy of me. The female version, in stilettos.

“You know me all too well,” I said with a wink. “I don’t want to see her in the hotel again. Get rid.”

Sadie sighed. “Fine, I’ll make sure she’s let go in the morning.”

“You’re a star.”

“Don’t I know it.” She shook her head and arched an eyebrow at me. “But one day, Harvey, your actions are gonna turn round and bite you in the ass!”

I chuckled, doing my best to contain my amusement, and Sadie took her leave.

Turning my attention back onto Sara, I reached for her hand and noticed the angry gash across the full width of her palm.

“What happened?” I questioned as I studied the deep wound. How come no one had noticed it before now? My blood boiled. For fuck’s sake, she was in a bloody hospital!

“It’s nothing. Just an accident.”

“Sara, it needs a stitch or two. Why hasn’t anyone seen to it?”

“I—”

“Never mind. Come with me.” I took her wrist and began to walk. I tightened my grip and pretended not to notice the tugging.

“Where are we going?” she asked. “Don’t we need to let someone know where I’m going? Make arrangements?”

“No. We need to get you fixed up first. This way.” I marched through the place until I saw the first able looking body I could find. “Hey! Yes you! Call yourself a hospital?”

“Better?”

Sara nodded, a weak smile edging upon her lips. “Yeah, much.”

“OK, now we can go. I’m going to take you home. Put some decent food in you, and you’re getting some sleep,” I told her, not giving her much choice in the matter. “Tomorrow we can worry about everything else.”

“Really, I’ll be fine. You don’t have to.” She paused as if there was more she wanted to say, but then her head turned and she looked away.

“Sara?” I frowned. At first I thought she was crying, the shock finally wearing off, giving her the release she perhaps needed, but I studied the part of her face I could see, her cheek; it was a little pale with delicate sprinkle of freckles yet bone dry. Her eyes had been puffy when I’d first saw her, but as the evening drew on, sitting with her, not letting her out of my sight, I thought it strange she hadn’t broken down. She was stronger than I’d originally given her credit for.

Her hands came up to her arms and her teeth began chattering loudly. I took a step closer.

“No, don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t hug me.” Her eyes were sad but defiant. I shrugged off the puzzlement and slipped out of my thick, warm jacket instead.

She flinched, but stood with her feet planted as I placed it over her smaller but curvy form so that it fell around her. I waited patiently as she slithered her arms through the sleeves, and we began to walk again, making our way silently towards the exit. This time it was me who gave a light shiver from the frostiness of the night. I threw my head back and studied the millions of stars showcasing themselves while we waited for my driver to bring the car around. Their bright shapes glinted against the darkness of the sky. Sara looked, too, and I wondered what she was thinking. Did they give her hope or make her feel small and helpless? She used to be a glass half full kind of girl; I wasn’t too sure now.

It wasn’t long before the black car made an appearance. I opened the passenger door, and she slid in obediently, cramming herself into the far corner, clutching at my jacket.

“You OK?” I asked after a minute. What a stupid fucking question, you idiot.

She whipped around to face me and nodded, muttering a quiet and yet broken “yes” under her breath. I took that as my cue to stay quiet.

Once we arrived at her modest, four-bed semi-detached I helped her out, placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her towards the stairs that led up to the door. She hesitated at the threshold, wobbly, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. I took the keys from her purse and opened the door.

Unmoving, like a mime frozen in time, she peered into the gloom of the house. There were no lights to welcome her home and certainly she must’ve realised, the fact hitting her again and again, no husband, either.

“I can’t,” she muttered. “I thought I could do it, but now that I’m here, I just can’t go in.”

I nodded from behind her and placed my hands upon her shoulders, but like a scared cat she almost bolted. I withdrew. I hated myself for thinking it, but it’d been a long time I’d had any woman flinch from my touch, and I didn’t like it one bit.

“It’s OK, you can do this,” I replied and willed her to trust me.

Taking her hand, this time not letting go when she tried to shake me free, I stepped inside and looked at her, still standing on the outside step.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, I promise. I’m right here with you.”

Her wary green eyes searched mine, deciding what she should do, perhaps trying to detect if I was full of shit or not. But finally she nodded, and her foot moved forward.

“Here,” I said, pushing the glass into her hand. “Drink this while I make you dinner.”

Sara took the drink from my hand and downed it thirstily. I went back to the kitchen and grabbed what I could from her almost bare fridge. I glanced at my watch; it was too late to order in, but she was in luck. Amongst the bottles of condiments there were enough ingredients to make what could pass for a semi-nutritional sandwich.

When I went back, plate in hand, her head was lowered onto the armrest of the couch. Occasionally her eyelids blinked to let me know she was still awake. I placed the food on the coffee table and crouched down to her, the light from the kitchen illuminating the side of her face. She’d insisted on keeping the living room lights off, and I’d agreed.

“I forgot to go to the shops,” she muttered after a quick glance at the plate.

“Shh, it’s ok.”

My thumb gently smoothed over her forehead as she peered back into nothingness.

Fuck. I was so out of my depth. I had no clue what I could do to make it better or at least bearable for her. It was clear she didn’t want me holding her; I was already pushing it by stroking back her hair.

Suddenly she started speaking. A torrent of words falling from her mouth as if they’d been bottled up, desperately waiting for their chance to escape the pressurised canister. “I’ve tried to tell myself that everything’s going to be OK, that I can make a life for myself and go back to the way it used to be, but I know it won’t be the same. Not when Eric’s gone and left me. Left me. It sounds so stupid when I say it like that. As he’s just popped to the corner shop for a bottle of milk and a daily newspaper and decided not to come back.” She paused for a second, then her face twisted with rage. “How could he do this? I just don’t understand how any of this can happen.”

“You can’t process it all in one night. It’s going to take time,” I soothed as I watched her plump mouth begin to tremble. I opened my arms, the most natural thing I could ever do, inviting her in, and she fell into them, no longer resisting. I ran my hand up her back, wanting to reduce the pain she was feeling.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” I reassured her, though I cursed myself straightaway for letting myself say the hollow, meaningless words. There was no guarantee that it would all turn out OK, that she’d wake up and life would be a bed of fucking roses.

“H-how?” she gulped. Breaking away from my hold, she stared up at me as if I had the answers.

But I couldn’t bring myself to deliver the cold hard truth I was thinking. That she was fucked—a widow past her prime… Granted, she wasn’t much younger than I, but in this day and age, she might as well take up knitting right there and then and be done with it.

“Don’t worry about it, Sara. Everything’s going to be fine,” I repeated, knowing full well that tomorrow could bring another shit storm to her door. Shit had a way of pilling up in threes.

Taking my word for it, she fell back against my chest, and I manoeuvred my body to sit beside her on the couch. Her fingers were taut, coiled into small fists around my shirt.

I stayed like that, holding onto her until she fell into a deep sleep, my arms curled firmly around her soft body. Her curves lined up against my straight lines, filling the gaps. I was not a cuddler; I didn’t let the women I slept with stick around long enough to get any false ideas, but having Sara nestled into my body, well, she felt so fucking good in my arms. It felt right, as if I’d been missing something, and she was the puzzle piece that magically slotted into place. I dismissed the thought as soon as it had come. Somehow, I was subconsciously aware that I was entering dangerous territory.

I craned my neck and saw that she was sleeping peacefully. Her chest rose and fell in steady increments.

I gradually slid from under her, not wanting to disturb her or accidentally wake her up and bring her attention to the growing bulge in my pants. I cursed myself.

Fuck knows what was wrong with me. I shouldn’t be excited over a grieving widow, let along my stepsister. It wasn’t as if I was experiencing a sex drought; I’d had my fill that evening. And yet there I was with Sara’s warm body pressed up against me—a sick puppy, horny as fuck.

I stood watching Sara sleep. She was blissfully unaware of the inappropriate thoughts running through my head… ones that I was allowing to run wild. I should be cursed and damned for wanting to see how she looked naked. But she’s not your type! I roared inwardly, trying to make myself see sense.

I closed my eyes and willed the images away. She’d just lost her husband, and here I was, my cock twitching, desperate to pick off the bones. I was disgusting. Yet I could count on one hand all the times I’d ever denied my impulses… Maybe it’d make her feel better?

Planting both of my feet on the carpeted floor, I bowed down and reached for her. With my arms ready, muscles contracting, I gently gripped the back of her knees and cupped her upper body, taking her weight in my arms. Dreamily, her arms reached up and tangled around the back of my neck, holding on tightly.

“Where you taking me?” she mumbled, her eyes remaining closed.

“Bed.”

She tucked her head into my neck as I climbed the stairs and found the master bedroom. Bracing my legs, I dipped forward to lay her down in the centre of the mattress.

“You’re strong,” she said in a whisper, sleep taking hold of her almost immediately.

It amused me how different this night could turn out if we were in an alternate universe, if she weren’t my stepsister and she hadn’t just witnessed her husband’s cold corpse hours before. Normally whenever I entered a woman’s bedroom, I didn’t leave till I was satisfied and she was a quivering wreck. But I kept the predator in me in check; I wasn't about to do anything stupid, even though my dick pleaded otherwise.

“Shh, go to sleep.”

I leaned down and pushed a lock of dark blonde hair from her face. She pulled away from my touch and turned to wrap her arms tight around the pillow, her body curled to her side, presenting me with her full ass in the shape of a heart, begging to be touched. I gathered up the side of the duvet and laid it upon her, hiding her body from my hungry eyes. I smoothed it down around her form to trap as much heat in as possible, trying to fend off the chilliness that lurked inside the room.

A quiet yet strangled noise came from her lips; they pressed into a thin line as she muttered a name I recognised clearly.

“Eric,” she sighed.

I told myself that I should leave, that she’d be OK on her own, but I was already bending at the waist and taking my shoes off, unable to persuade myself to leave. I flopped down on the chair beside her bed and like a sentry, I watched over her as the blackness of the night graduated to the safe colours of morning.