Crash: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance (7 page)

Katherine

Luke let the heavy wooden door slam behind him, and I stared at it as if I could somehow force him to walk back in.

Had he really been here nearly every day for eight months? Why would he do something like that? Was it some sad sense of obligation because our parents were getting married? That had to be it. Maybe he just had some kind of old-fashioned nobility or something.

I tried to piece together everything that had happened. Maybe I missed something. I was still a little groggy, and some of the details of the accident had somehow muddied themselves in my addled brain.

Let’s see. I met him and his father. We ate somewhere. Mexican food, wasn’t it? The beach. Car accident. Then I woke up in the hospital. Nope, that was it. He’d known me for all of two hours before the accident. There was nothing that should make him feel obligated to spend every day for eight months stuck in a hospital instead of going out with his friends and living a normal life.

It just didn’t make sense. I mean, he’d called me—what was it? Oh, right… a stuck-up bitch, or something to that effect. He’d just met me, and he thought he knew me.

He’d been terribly unfair to me, and I remember he’d hurt my feelings somehow. I couldn’t quite remember the details, but I remembered running away from him—hiding—hoping he wouldn’t find me.

But then… he brought flowers. He’d apologized. I’d accepted. Maybe I was wrong about him. But that still wouldn’t explain why he’d come to the hospital all that time. He could have just forgotten about me. He had no reason not to.

The door creaked open, and Mom and Steve walked in. I suppressed a disappointed sigh and Mom smiled and hugged me.

“It’s so good to see you awake,” Mom said, kissing my head.

“I can’t believe I was out for eight months,” I said. “What about Berkeley?”

“They agreed to give you a year of deferred enrollment,” Mom said. “Steve talked to them.”

“Thank you,” I said to Steve, and he nodded. Then I asked Mom, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, honey, anything,” she answered.

“Luke said… was he… did he visit me any?” I finally managed to ask.

“Every day,” she answered. “We all did. Luke didn’t even miss a day when he sprained his ankle at work.”

“Really?” I asked.

“He’s a lovely young man,” Mom said. “What a sense of duty to his family.”

Family. Right.

“Well, I’m awake, now,” I said. “He doesn’t have to keep wasting his time coming up here anymore.”

I heard the door creak, and it closed as if someone had been standing there and decided not to enter.

“I’m sure he’ll still be up here pretty often,” Mom said, patting my hand.

“Maybe,” I shrugged.

“Of course he will,” Steve said.

But that was the last I saw of him for a long time.

Luke

Hearing her say that was like a punch in the gut.

“Well, I’m awake, now,”
she’d said.
“He doesn’t have to keep wasting his time coming up here anymore.”

That statement just kept playing itself over and over in my head. Was she really so ungrateful that I’d spent practically every minute of free time I had by her bedside for eight long months?

Eight months. I’d given up eight months of football games. Eight months of Netflix and chill. Eight months of grabbing beers with my buddies now that I’d finally turned twenty-one. Eight months.

So it was a waste of my time, huh? Why? Because she could never give a damn about anyone but herself?

Well, fuck Little Miss Snooty Britches. I was
out.

I’d left the hospital in a huff, not even taking the time to don my helmet before tearing out of the parking lot on my bike.

I don’t know why I headed to that old bar. I guess it was the fact that I could finally legally get into it. No more sneaking around and trying to use fake I.D.s. I just walked my ass inside and ordered a beer.

I slid onto a barstool to wait for my drink. I pushed my thumbs into the divots at the inner corners of my eyes and sighed. Then a grating sound yanked me from my thoughts.

“Luke? Oh, my god, it’s been ages!”

I cringed.
Oh, please. Not her.

I opened my eyes and turned my head to see a wall of red hair and a huge, fake smile inches from my face. She pushed her fake tits toward me and flounced her hair over her shoulder, batting obscenely thick eyelashes.

“Ashley, please, I’m not in the mood,” I groaned.

The bartender had plunked a brown bottle in front of me, and I twisted off the cap and took a long swig, slamming the bottle onto the bar.

“Oh, come on, honey, you’re not still mad at me, are you?” Ashley pouted.

“For me to be mad at you, I’d have to give a damn,” I told her. “And I don’t.”

Her eyes narrowed and she spat, “Why? Is your little
blonde
with you tonight?”

I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to backhand her for her comment about Katherine. Then I realized Katherine didn’t want anything to do with me anyway.

“I don’t have a little blonde,” I answered.

She raised an eyebrow and said, “Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s none of your god damned business, Ashley,” I pointed out. “Frankly, I ceased to be your business when I caught you naked in your parents’ hot tub with those two football players.”

“I said I was sorry,” she huffed. Then she ran her fingers along the back of my neck and whispered in my ear, “How about you let me make it up to you?”

Now, the thing is, I’m a man. And when I’ve got a decent looking girl basically throwing sex at me, there’s a part of me, however small, that has the instinct to accept. Yes, I admit her touch struck a nerve. It had been months since I’d been with anyone.

But I read once that being a male is a circumstance of birth, and being a man is a choice. I chose to be a man.

“Beat it, Ashley,” I tossed over my shoulder as I turned my stool away from her and took another swig of my beer.

“Whatever,” she shot back. “Your dick is too fucking small to satisfy me, anyway. No wonder I cheated on you.”

I turned to her with a smirk on my face and said, “Is my dick too small, or are you just too fucking loose from banging the whole fucking football team?”

Her eyes widened, and she picked up a shot glass from the bar and tossed the contents into my face. I wiped my face with my shirt, and by the time my eyes opened again, she had disappeared.

Yeah, I was in a dark place right then. I ended up drinking too much that night, and I had to grab a cab home. But I knew better than to let Ashley anywhere near me again. At least I had that much sense.

When I got home, I stumbled up the stairs to my room and flopped onto my bed. I’d just closed my eyes when I heard my door creak open.

“I didn’t see you at the hospital all evening,” Dad said. “Everything alright?”

“Tired, Dad. Trying to sleep.”

“Alright, fine. I just wanted to see if something was up.”

“Nope, everything’s fine. Night, Dad.”

The door clicked shut and I slammed my pillow over my head. I guess that’s what I got for trying to do the right thing. I should have known better.

Katherine

Things were not easy after I woke up. I had a few speech difficulties that showed up at random times, and walking was difficult. I had to endure daily rounds of physical therapy and speech therapy. I suppose it would have been easier if I hadn’t felt so lonely, but with Mom and Steve planning their wedding (which they had postponed because of the accident), Steve running his business, and Luke… just gone… I had never felt more alone in my life.

After waking up, I spent another month in the hospital. Almost a year of my life, gone. I’d missed going to Berkeley. I’d missed Christmas, my favorite time of the year. I hadn’t even had fresh air in all that time.

It was April when Mom and Steve came to take me home. I never thought I’d be so happy to be back in the monstrosity of a house Mom had chosen in Encino. But then came the news that they’d decided to have their wedding in June, and we’d be selling the house and moving in with Steve. And Luke.

I hadn’t seen him, or even heard from him, in a month. It was if Luke had just fallen off the face of the Earth. And now we’d be moving in?

No. I wouldn’t do it. I had to get my own place, and fast.

I asked Mom to help me get set up in an apartment, but she’d said, “Nonsense, Kitty Kat! You’re not fully recovered, yet. I need to be close to you so I can take care of you.”

It still made me cringe to hear her call me the name Daddy used to. She’d been using it a lot since I woke up and the time right before it. Maybe trying to make up for some lost time, I guessed. I’d have to look past it for her sake.

Luke, though, I was far too upset with.

I don’t know why. I mean, it’s not like we were in a relationship or anything. Hell, we’d only known each other for a day, basically. For all intents and purposes, we had literally just met.

But who was he to act like the concerned brother-to-be one minute… okay, for eight long months, apparently… and suddenly disappear as though he didn’t even know me. Okay, technically he really
didn’t
know me, but why spend all that time at the hospital if he was just going to run off the minute I woke up? It just made no sense.

Back at home, I tried to enjoy the fresh air. I spent time by the pool, even though it was still a little early to be swimming. Technically it was probably warm enough. We lived in California, after all. It was in the seventies and eighties every day. But it never felt right swimming before May. So I’d just lie around by the pool and try to keep my mind off the nagging frustration of thinking about Luke and his motivations.

For the first couple of weeks, I almost expected that he’d at least come by to visit, but by the time May rolled around, I realized it wasn’t going to happen.
Screw him
, I thought. Why was I so worried about him, anyway? This was the guy who’d called me a
stuck-up bitch
the minute he met me.

Since I’d missed my chance to go to Berkeley for the year, I decided to enroll in some art classes at the local community college. My physical therapist had suggested I take some classes of some sort just to keep my brain sharp for when I started Berkeley in the fall, and art was the only thing I was interested enough in to actually bother leaving the house.

My first class was on a Thursday. I showed up early, and the classroom was empty. I might have thought I was in the wrong place if not for the endless array of paints and brushes and canvases spread around the room.

“Hey, is this the oil painting classroom?”

I turned to see a guy about my age strolling in with a backpack. I glanced around the room at all the supplies and shrugged.

“My guess would be yes,” I said.

“Oh, right,” he said, finally noticing the supplies. “Are you here for the class?”

“Yes,” I said, extending my hand. “I’m Katherine.”

“Matt,” he replied, shaking my hand. “I can’t believe we’re the only ones here.”

“Well, we
are
more than half an hour early,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think there’d be so few people here,” he said. “I’m always early to everything, and there’s always at least a few people who show up when I do. But lucky me, I get some time alone with a pretty girl.”

His mouth quirked into a kind of lopsided grin, and he slouched into a chair at the front of the room, hanging his backpack over the back. He was kind of cute, actually. Sandy hair that flopped over one eye, and dark eyes. Not bad.

I sat beside him and asked, “So, is this your first art class?”

“No. I’m in the professional program in graphics design at Berkeley. One of my professors suggested I take some art classes,” he said.

“No way! I’m starting Berkeley in the fall!”

“What’s your major?” he asked.

“I haven’t decided. I just know UC Berkeley feels right for me. I’ve wanted to go there since… well, forever.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t pick a concentration until my second year,” he said. “You’ll figure it out.”

I heard voices behind us, and some other people started slowly filtering into the room, choosing seats. A moment later, a good-looking man who appeared to be in his forties made his way to the front of the room.

“Looks like a lot of you are already here,” he said. “I’m Mr. Simms, and this is Introduction to Oil Painting.” He wrote his name and the name of the class on the dry erase board on the wall. “We’ll give it a few more minutes to make sure everyone is here before we begin.”

The class was a lot of fun, and I discovered I’m actually not too bad of an artist for a beginner. Mr. Simms said I showed a lot of promise, and I actually started to think maybe I’d have to major in art.

Matt tagged along with me as we left the classroom, and the two of us were walking down the hall laughing together over some of the silly paintings other students created when I heard a voice that made my heart stop.

“What the fuck?”

I turned to see Luke standing behind me, his hand gripping the strap of his backpack so tightly his knuckles blanched white.

“Luke?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking fucking classes, what the fuck does it look like?” he asked. “What are you doing here? And who the fuck is this?”

“Um, Katherine? I’m going to go now. Nice meeting you,” said Matt, attempting to slide by us.

Luke grabbed Matt’s shirt and slammed him against the wall, growling, “Not until we straighten this out.”

“Luke! What the hell? I literally just met this guy an hour ago,” I told him. “Let him go!”

Luke stared at him for a moment, and Matt’s face had turned a ghostly shade of pale grey. Luke released him, and he stumbled away, glancing over his shoulder at Luke as though he were certifiably insane. And I have to admit that I was starting to think the same thing.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “You’re supposed to be resting at home and getting ready for Berkeley this fall. What are you doing hanging out with guys?”

“Hanging out with guys? Are you serious? I’m taking a couple of art classes at the suggestion of my physical therapist. Matt is a student in the class. And wait, how exactly is any of this even any of your business?”

“You’re about to be my stepsister,” he said. “I have to look out for you.”

“Oh, please,” I groaned. “Don’t do me any favors. I woke up after eight months in a coma to find out you’d been there nearly every day, and then suddenly you’re just gone. Gone! You haven’t even stopped by to see me once! And you expect me to believe you feel some brotherly duty to me? Bullshit.”

He opened his mouth as though he were about to say something else, and then he just snapped it shut. He turned and walked away, shaking his head and muttering something.

What the hell?

If I had known he would be taking classes at the same place, I’d have found another school. I had begun to wish I never met him, and soon I’d have to live with him. All I could do was hope he’d go off and get his own place before that happened.