Wintertime Bad Boy: A Christmas Suspense Romance (Alphas Unboxed Book 3) Page 11

  Jen watches me from where she’s taken my seat on the sofa. “I thought some Christmas cheer might help you with your moping.”

  “I’m not moping!” I growl.

  She shrugs. “Honey, you clearly are.”

  I mutter something nasty under my breath and she grins, catching it. “Potty mouth.”

  I grumble. “If you want to be useful then help me sort out Dad’s things.” I pause. “I don’t want to do it alone.”

  A flash of quiet grief flashes over her face before she stands up and walks over to me, flinging her arm around my neck in that familiar manner of hers. “Only if you agree to ordering a stuffed crust pizza with mushrooms and pineapples.”

  My lips twitch as I look at her fondly. “You sick weirdo.”

  But I agree and we spend the next ten minutes dragging out the boxes, one by one.

  Jen has always been good at organizing so I let her take charge.

  “The clothes, we’ll give to Goodwill,” she says, glancing at me, and I nod before hesitating. “I want to keep a few of his sweaters.”

  I pick out two of his favorite ones that are worn with use and put them on my bed. It’ll be nice to have those for when I miss him.

  The rest of the things are mementos. I decide to throw away my art and crafts that I made as a kid and that my dad still kept.

  “There’s a whole box of photo albums.” Jen’s voice sounds excited as she rifles through one of the last few boxes left. “Oh, man, look at these. They’re positively ancient.”

  I scoot over on my ass, not wanting to get up and peer into the box, frowning. “I remember packing those but I don’t remember ever seeing them as a kid.”

  The albums on top are familiar. Dad and I used to go through them sometimes when we missed Mom. But, there are two gray colored ones that I’ve never seen before.

  Jen takes them out and we open them.

  My parents’ wedding photos.

  I blink. “How come I’ve never seen these?”

  I glance toward the one picture on the bookshelf of my dad laughing as he dances with my mother, her back toward the photographer, as she looks over her shoulder, love shining in her eyes. It’s been the only wedding photo displayed in the house.

  Dad always used to get twitchy when I asked him where the rest were and I thought that maybe it was because he missed Mom and just didn’t want to remember so I would often let it go.

  “Hey.” Jen’s tone is strange as she grabs my attention. “Your mom was pregnant when she was getting married?”

  That jolts me out of memory lane and I reach for the album to see what she’s looking at. “What are you talking about? Of course she wasn’—” My denial trails off as I see the very obvious baby bump under the wedding dress. I touch my fingers to my parents who are frozen in time.

  “I was—” I look up at Jen, visibly confused. “I was born three years after they got married.”

  We stare at each other and then back at the album. I turn over the page, and keep moving past the honeymoon pictures, till I see one in a hospital room, with my mother holding a small bundle in her arms, looking tired but beaming at the camera.

  “What the hell?” I breathe as I see pictures of what I clearly see is a young boy.

  My brother.

  I had a brother.

  “You think he passed away or something?” Jen asks, hesitantly.

  I stare at a picture of my brother crying in my father’s arms as my father tries to hush him, grinning all the while. I feel shaken. “Maybe, I mean, it has to be that, right?” I look up at Jen for reassurance. “Why else would my parents never mention him?”

  I don’t remember much from my childhood, most of my memories blurred.

  Jen is reaching for the other album and as she picks it up, newspaper clippings fall out.

  “What—?” She gapes at them before carefully picking them up. They’re quite old—I would say more than a decade old.

  “’Car accident— Missing child’—” she reads aloud and my hands still as I suddenly recall a loud screeching sound and then screams.

  “Alex?” Jen sounds worried.

  I shake my head, feeling disorientated. “I’m fine.”

  “There are more,” she says, and I put down the album and sift through them. “’Search continues for Eric Jameson—Parents distraught’.” I look down at the clipped articles that are last dated to a few years after my mother’s death. They go from headlines to smaller and smaller articles until they are just mentions in the back pages. There’s a picture of my parents in the earlier articles, both with injuries on their faces, their eyes distraught.

  “He went missing,” I murmur to myself. “I must have been four at that point.”

  “Oh, God, Alex.” Jen sounds horrified. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

  I feel empty, not knowing what emotion I should be feeling when I find out about a brother I once had. But my parents kept trying to find him over the years which means that they thought he was alive. And my father kept it up years after my mom passed away. He must have given up hope at some point.

  “Why didn’t he ever tell me?” I whisper aloud.

  Jen has no answer and we keep going through the pictures. I see a glimpse of my brother, that I had never known even existed, grow up. When I enter the pictures, he is always there, holding me, playing with me, and I feel a pang of envy for the little girl in the pictures with her toothless smiles, who is so clearly loved.

  That used to be me.

  “Alex.” Jen’s voice is soft and I look up. She’s wearing a distressed look on her face. “Honey, you’re crying.”

  So, that’s why my cheeks feel so wet.

  I rub the tears away with the back of my hand, roughly, and choke out a watery laugh. “I don’t know why. I don’t even know him.”

  She touches my hand. “We don’t have to look at these if you don’t want to.”

  I glance back at the album open in my lap and suddenly wish to be alone. I want to explore this part of my life all by myself. The album feels heavy as I close it and I say in a rough voice, “You’re right. Let’s—Let’s order that pizza. I’m starving.”

  I need some time to collect my thoughts and clear my head. Jen, being who she is, understands. She puts away the albums on the dressing table and helps me up. “Let’s move the boxes to the side. I’ll drop the things off at Goodwill on my way back.”

  It takes us half an hour to clear everything and the vigorous activity helps me relax. I had a brother. I once had a brother. In the past. When I was young. Now, I don’t have any family.

  I look over at where Jen is arguing with the pizza company on the phone and a fond smile graces my lips.

  Well, that’s not exactly true.

  I have Jen.

  And I have Annie. And Mathilda. And Chen Li.

  I’m not alone. It’s time I started pulling myself out of this funk that I allowed myself to fall into. This depressing mindset has never been me. I have the money to help with the debt. Things are starting to look up.

  ‘Mon chéri’.

  A teasing smile.

  I swallow, my throat dry when I think of the green-eyed devil who haunts me day and night.

  What has Damien done to me?

  It’s a few hours later when Jen is curled up on the soft rug, her arms and legs sprawled, and I laze on the sofa, greedy for the last slice of pizza but too full to move, when she speaks. “You know something?”

  My stomach hurts as I try to shift my position. “What?”

  “I’ve noticed something.”

  God, why do I have to be such a pig when it comes to pizza?

  “What, Jen?” I groan, feeling uncomfortably full now. “I’m such a pig I swear.”

  “Yes, you are,” I hear her snort from below.

  “Shut up,” I retort. “Nobody asked you.”

  She drags herself into a sitting position and looks at me. “That. I’ve noticed that.”

  I frown, not following, before narrowing my eyes at her. “If you’re calling me a pig—”

  She grins. “No. I’m saying that—I mean—It’s like you’re reverting back to yourself.”

  I blink at her. “I don’t—”

  She shakes her head. “That sounded a little weird. Let me—You got all depressed and quiet after your dad passed away and it just felt like you never managed to bring yourself out of it even after all this time, and lately, this past week, I’m starting to see glimpses of you that I knew before, you know?”

  I do know. Despite her muddled up phrasing, I know exactly what she means.

  I stare at her and she nudges closer to me, her eyes a little sad. “I’ve missed you, you know.”

  I smile, a wobbly looking smile, that’s still a little broken. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  We stay like this for a while, watching each other, wearing ridiculous smiles on our faces before she says. “So, this guy…”

  “I don’t want to talk about him,” I say abruptly, knowing exactly where she’s going with this.

  “Come on,” Jen needles, grinning now. “He bought you a brand new TV and a sofa and honey, let me tell you, these are expensive ass brands. I should know.”

  I open my mouth to say something before I pause. “Expensive?”

  She raises a triumphant brow and I continue. “How expensive?”

  Jen pats the sofa, her teeth bared in a smile. “Let’s just say this sofa isn’t something you can buy at Ikea.” She sits up straight and the look in her eyes spell trouble. “The man got you some Richie Rich level gifts. This TV is one of those upscale brands, imported, I would say. You don’t get things like these for somebody if you don’t like them.”

  “I didn’t sleep with him!” I blurt out, immediately, my ch
eeks flushed, and Jen, the same woman who had given me an earful about how stupid I had been to let a stranger stay in my apartment—

  She just smirks. “You should have. You clearly have the hots for him.”

  I stare at her, trying to disagree with her but I can only find regret within me, a strange feeling that I lost Damien without even exploring the sizzling chemistry between us. Even as the thought slips into my mind, I push it away, and scowl. “Even if I do, he paid me for lodging and care. My body was not on the table.”

  I see the wicked smile on Jen’s lips as she pokes at my cheek. “Bet you’re wishing now that it was.”

  “Shut up,” I grumble. However, I can see that she doesn’t intend to let it go so I raise my brow. “Since we’re on the topic, what was going on between you and Braden?”

  To my delight, that makes her change subjects in the blink of an eye.

  We spend the evening decorating the apartment with the garlands she’s brought, as we get drunk on cheap wine and order another pizza. The plastic Christmas tree goes in the corner and we hang some ornaments on it which keep falling off. So we end up leaving it alone.

  Jen crashes at my place for the night and we cuddle up under the blanket, like we did when we were younger and fall asleep, drunk on laughter, wine, and good food.

  Chapter 8

  It’s three days later, three miserable days of being given the cold shoulder by the nurses who had been eyeing Dr. Greer from the day he started here, that things get a little out of hand.

  I stare down at the sandwich I had brought with me today. It looks like someone stepped on it. I hear the snickers around me as the other nurses watch me from the corner of their eyes and I feel my lips tighten. I lift my head to meet their gazes and they all immediately look away as if absorbed in their work.

  This is so fucking childish.

  I grit my teeth, refusing to get upset.

  “Who did this?”

  Nobody answers but one of the nurses looks up. Her eyes are mocking. “Whatever do you mean?”

  I purse my lips together and stare at her. “Who took out my sandwich, stepped on it, and then put it back into the bag, Karen?”

  Karen is one of the newer nurses who’s been very popular because of her sweet demeanor. Most of the younger doctors like her and she gets along with the nurses as well. Where I am quiet and reserved, she is bubbly and full of life.

  Bitch.

  I can see from the smile on her face that she not only knows who did this but probably had a hand in it. It would make sense considering that she’s been drooling after Dr. Greer since the minute he got here.

  Karen just titters in that annoying way of hers and I can see some of the other nurses looking in our direction, wanting to see this drama unfold.

  Why does this feel like high school?

  “Why would I do something like that?” She looks delighted. “Unlike some people, I don’t have a habit of touching things that aren’t theirs.”

  I stick my tongue in my cheek and feel the anger stirring in me.

  She wants to be petty?

  I can be petty.

  I stand up, suddenly, and the chair pushes back with a loud scrape that has her jolting for a second, before she resumes that same smile on her face as if daring me to make a scene.

  I tilt my head. “Hmm, I guess I’ll just go see what Dr. Greer brought for lunch. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing with me.”

  The smile slides off Karen’s face, an ugly look replacing it. “Hey—”

  I don’t let her continue, lifting up the side door to get out of the nurse’s station. “See you later.”

  As I walk away, I know that I’ve dug myself into a deeper pit this time, but the more reckless part of me feels satisfied. It feels good to sometimes take some control back.

  I move toward Dr. Greer’s office. I’m obviously not going to ask him to share his lunch with me but I do have to give him an update about a patient. His door is slightly ajar as I approach it and I’m about to knock when I hear a familiar voice from inside.

  “So, she doesn’t know yet?”

  The thickly accented voice makes me freeze for a second and before I can stop myself, I’m wrenching the door open to take a look at the face, to assure myself that I’m wrong.

  I didn’t miss him.

  Except that one look at that surprised face as it turns toward me, wild green eyes glinting dangerously before they relax, it has me realizing that I’m a terrible liar.

  “You,” I breathe, not knowing what else to say.

  Damien looks fit as ever, as if he never had a stab wound to begin with. He has a scruff around his jaw that makes him even more dangerously attractive and he’s wearing a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt and a pair of black jeans.

  Good enough to eat.

  My insides tremble and I don’t know how to calm myself down.

  “Mon chéri.” His voice is sin to my ears and then he’s yanking me forward by the arm, a rough movement that has me tumbling right into his chest, taking in his natural woodsy scent that does something to my nipples.

  I feel his mouth against my temple. “Miss me?”

  Without thinking or pausing to contemplate my actions, I raise my foot and then stomp it down on his.

  He winces and immediately steps back. I step toward him, not understanding why I’m so angry. “Where the hell have you been?”

  His expression clears and I see a smirk on his face as he lifts a hand and pushes away a strand of hair that is falling into my eyes. “I missed you too.”

  I push away his hand, my cheeks flushing. “I didn’t miss you. I’m just asking because—you can’t just up and vanish without saying a word.”

  He seems even more pleased by my outburst, and curves his hand around the back of my nape that has me stilling. “Oh, no?”

  He’s smiling but there’s something about the way he’s watching me that has my mouth turning dry and I struggle to say something, only to come out with a whisper. “I-It’s rude.”

  He smiles and then presses his lips to the tip of my nose, murmuring, “Then I apologize.”

  A throat clears from behind him and I suddenly remember that we are not alone here. My entire face turns red. “Ah, sorry, Dr. Greer. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Damien.” Dr. Greer is not even looking at me, giving a pointed look toward the hand that is holding me by the nape.

  Damien shrugs, pulling me closer. “What can I do? My little darling missed me.”

  I struggle in his hold and pull away. He lets me.

  “I’m not your little darling,” I mutter.

  He just grins, but says nothing.

  “Did you need something, Alex?” Dr. Greer looks a little tense and I shake my head.

  “I was going to give you the report but I left it at the—” My jaw tightens as I realize that I’m still holding the sandwich in my hand. “Never mind. I’ll come back.”

  “What’s that?” Damien blinks and I immediately hide the sandwich behind my back. “Nothing. Just my lunch.”

  But he is bigger than me, and sneakier, and before I can move, he’s wrested the bag from my grip.

  “Why would you hide—” His sentence trails off as he sees the clear footprint on the white bread and how mushed it is. He stares at it and then looks at me.

  I glance away, not knowing why I feel guilty.

  “Alexandra, what is this?”

  His voice is cold, a chilling quality to it that makes a shiver run down my spine. “Did somebody do this to your lunch?”

  I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth and lie. “It was an accident. It slipped and I—”

  “You’re lying.”

  His tone is short and I meet his eyes and see the way they are flashing, a fury that I can’t understand. It’s just a sandwich. Why get so upset over—?

  Dr. Greer rounds his desk. “What happened to your sandwich?”

  Hysterical laughter bubbles in my throat at how ridiculous this conversation is but I tamp it down and snatch my ruined lunch from Damien’s hand. “I like to step on my lunch in my free time. Stop making a big deal about this.”

  Dr. Greer is now watching me wave the bread around and he frowns. “Are you being bullied, Alex?”

  I want a hole to open up beneath my feet. However, instead, I straighten up to my full height. “Don’t be silly. This is a hospital not a high school. Why would anybody bully me?”