DEVIL: A Stepbrother Romance Page 4

  A tiny frail hand was holding on to mine, and there I could feel the slightest of comfort.

  I squeezed it, and it made me feel alive again.

  Chapter 6

  “Can you hear me Mitch?” the doctor asked. If you can’t move your head just wiggle your finger once for yes and twice for no.

  Mitch nodded slightly and then a low groan seeped through his bandaged lips.

  Mom and Dad let out a few weak laughs in excitement and Mom started crying again. This time it was tears of joy. Somehow, Mitch was alive.

  “Wow…” Doctor Wallace said. His eyes were wide and he placed his hands on the side of his head. “I’m… I’m shocked. I don’t know what to say. I’ve never seen someone come back from death that like that. It’s pretty much a miracle.”

  The nurses in the room seemed even more shocked than him at the events that took place. One of them made an invisible cross sign with her hands and started talking to the sky. They had officially deemed Mitch as deceased, but he managed to fight his way back on his own.

  I was overjoyed, but at the same time, my happiness was dampened by numbness. The night had been an emotional rollercoaster ride that had sent me from shock to fear to sadness and then shock again. My tank was empty, and I felt like I was going to pass out if there were any more surprises.

  “Well, I’m sure you guys are thrilled, but Mitch is going to need to stay in the hospital for a while so that we can monitor his vitals. Hopefully, the worst is over, but we need to keep a close eye on him until he gets his basic functions back. You should all go home and get some rest.”

  Dad lifted his arm for a handshake. “Thank you so much Dr. Wallace. We appreciate everything you’ve done for Mitch.”

  “Of course. And don’t thank me… I did what I could, but Mitch is something else. Not many people would be able to survive all the trauma he’s been through.”

  I navigated back towards the bed and placed my hand on top of Mitch’s again, leaving my parents to continue their conversation with the doctor. “Hang in there Mitch,” I whispered. “I can’t wait for you to get back home.”

  Mitch’s head slowly rotated towards me, and through the slit in his bandages, I could see one of his eye’s open just slightly. He stared at me for a moment and then closed his eye again. I could have sworn I could see the muscles of his mouth form into a smile, but it was really hard to say with all the bandages.

  “C’mon baby, let’s head home,” my Mom said and tilted her head in a signal towards the door. “Let’s give Mitch some rest and try to catch up on some sleep ourselves. You can skip school tomorrow if you want.”

  Soon, we were walking back through the front door of our home, and I headed upstairs towards my room. “Goodnight mom. Goodnight Dad.”

  “Goodnight sweetheart.”

  When I reached the top of the stairs, I started down the short hallway that lead to my room, and stopped at the door directly across from mine. It had been ages since I had been in Mitch’s room and he strictly forbade me from going in there when he wasn’t around, but that night something compelled me to go inside anyway.

  Even knowing that Mitch was in the hospital, I still feel a bit of fear wash over me as I pushed the door open and flipped on the light switch.

  His room was relatively clean, save for the cream colored comforter that which was strung across his bed and an open can of soda that was sitting on his computer desk. All of his furniture was set in plain, neutral colors, which was a good parallel to his own personality. Neutral, pure, but lacking something that I couldn’t put my finger on.

  Hanging on his wall was his football helmet and jersey, number 21, a tight end for the Kingston Strongbacks. Mitch was far from being their star player, but it was the one thing that he made very clear that he loved, and he was always talking football or watching it whenever he wasn’t playing. When he first started playing, he always went on and on about how he’d play for the Seahawk’s someday.

  On his desk was also his Macbook Pro and a framed picture of him with his girlfriend Sam. I lifted the picture and studied her. Sam was a good looking girl, long slim legs, blue eyes, a beautiful smile, and luscious, long brown hair. Mitch seemed to have lucked out, and it appeared that he knew it as he was smiling widely in the picture. My stomach turned at the thought that she might break up with him once she found out about the accident.

  As I was sitting the picture down, I noticed the corner of a thick piece of paper was poking out from behind the picture frame, and I tapped it on the edge of the desk a couple times to dislodge it further. When I pulled the picture out, I noticed that it was a photo of Mitch and I when we were children. We were both sitting in a kiddie pool and Mitch was teaching me how to blow bubbles. The picture had to have been at least 13 years old, but I still remember that day like it was yesterday. He was my best friend at the time.

  I smiled and was about to put the picture back behind the frame when I noticed that there was writing on the back.

  “Annie Crimson, best sister ever!”

  Directly beneath the words line a hand drawn heart. I let out an exasperated sigh and sat down on his bed while I looked at the picture more.

  I wasn’t sure when Mitch had written those words, but I also wasn’t sure if I had really been the best sister ever. I hadn’t been going his games to support him lately, and other than football, I really wasn’t even sure what other interests he had.

  I slid the picture back up into the frame and made a mental note learn more about him whenever he came home–if he actually made it home.

  As I sat the picture frame back down, the motion must have stirred his Macbook out of it’s sleep as the screen lit up in front of me. It was opened to his Facebook page, and his top post read “This year I will make it into the starting lineup.”

  I thought back to what the doctor had told dad. He’d never set foot on the football field again. The idea made me feel horrible. Even if Mitch did make it back home, he was going to be stripped of one of the few things that he loved. I glanced back at Sam’s picture. And if she didn’t accept him in his dilapidated state, maybe even two things.

  Chapter 7

  “I don’t need any medication,” I snapped at Dr. Wallace. I had been feeling irritable the past few days since I had been laying around in the hospital. “I just want to take these fucking bandages off.”

  “I really don’t think you’re ready to have them off yet, Mitch. You should give yourself more time to heal.”

  “Do you realize how hard it is to eat with this shit on my mouth? At least take the head bandages off.”

  The doctor sighed. “Alright, well let me have a look.” He reached for the side of my head and carefully undid the adhesive, then slowly but surely began to unwrap the cocoon of mesh that was covering my face.

  When the bandages were off, his eyebrows scrunched together and he moved his eyes closer to get a closer look. “Well, that’s really odd,” he said.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s just... it looks like it’s already started to heal. Usually these type of wounds stay open for weeks before the skin begins closing. It’s already coming together nicely.”

  I grunted as I forced myself to sit up in my bed, which was difficult to do with the casts on my arm and leg, and then looked across the room into the mirror. I never saw how bad my wounds were before I was wrapped in bandages, but now it didn’t look so bad. The skin on my head was closed up and appeared to forming a large, red scar across the side of my forehead, surrounded by dark bruising. The side of my lip was still a bit red and swollen, but everything else seemed to be okay.

  “Do you have any pain in the area?”

  “I lifted my unbandage arm and pressed on my forehead slightly.”

  “Don’t push too hard… Your scull is fractured there.”

  “Not too bad. A bit sore, but I think it’s okay.”

  “Well, you certainly have the highest pain tolerance of any patient that I’ve seen to date, and
you’re healing up at a spectacular rate. You wouldn’t happen to be an X-Man super mutant, would you?” The doctor winked at me like a child and gave a sarcastic smile.

  I held back the desire to roll my eyes. “Thanks, doc. I should be okay to go to my court case, right?”

  “Yes, if you take it easy, you should be okay. Just try to keep yourself relaxed during the whole experience. I don’t want you putting your cardiovascular system under any undo stress.”

  I smiled and gave a nod, feeling a lot better without the pesky bandages rubbing against my lips.

  The driver who hit my car blew a 0.26% BAC, which was over 3 times the legal limit in the state of California, and my family had arranged a strong legal case in the time that I had been in the hospital. My lawyer had visited me a couple times, and based on the amount of physical damage that I sustained, thought that there was a good chance that we’d win a hefty settlement.

  Sam had also visited me once on the 2nd day that I was in the hospital– the day that we were supposed to be shacking up together in Leslie Grant’s house. I was still lethargic at the time, and when she saw me, she was in shock and broke down in tears. I wanted to tell her that I was sorry and ask her not to leave me, but I still couldn’t talk due to all the swelling and dressings.

  I felt like shit as she knelt down and stared between the slit in my bandages, but then she promised me that she wasn’t going anywhere and that she loved me. Once gain, I felt incredibly lucky to have a girl like her. She was loyal even with my body being a mess.

  “The nurse should stop by to bring you breakfast shortly,” the doctor said before leaving the room.

  A few minutes later, the nurse arrived with a tray filled with eggs, sausage, and a buttermilk biscuit. The hospital had wonderfully delicious food, but even more wonderfully delicious nurses

  I wasn’t sure what was coming over me, but my mind had been in a completely different reality since I woke up in the hospital. Every time I’d sleep, my dreams would be filled with sex– lots and lots of sex. I’d dream of making advances of beautiful women–even more beautiful than Sam, and I seemed to always get the girl. Even more so, I’d fuck them into submission like some sort of sex god, and they always loved every moment of it.

  How was I coming up with those dreams? I’m not sure, as I wasn’t a big consumer of pornography and never had anything remotely similar occur in real life. I didn’t mind though, aside from the fact that I’d wake with a raging hard-on, and even when I was fully conscious, I’d salivate at the sight of a cute girl.

  The nurse serving breakfast was one of the better looking ones, and I couldn’t help but think of how much I wanted to fuck her. When she leaned over to place the tray on my bed table, I caught a glance of her cleavage and got a whiff of perfume in her wavy brown hair. My mouth started watering more for her than the smell of the yummy breakfast she had brought me.

  Her uniform was tight, and I could see the thin line of her panties running up the crack of her ass when she bent over. She was wearing a thong, and that knowledge immediately made my dick swell hard. I wanted to reach my hand up her skirt and rub my finger up and down the that thin piece of fabric, perhaps get a taste of the little honeypot that she was hiding under there.

  “You’re looking so much better today, Mitch,” the girl chimed, snapping me immediately out of my perverted fantasies.

  I pulled my eyes from her ass and smiled. “Yeah, I guess anything looks better than a cloth-covered face.”

  “Well, you’ve got a handsome face, so it’s great to finally see it. And the wound on your head doesn’t look that bad either. At this rate, you’ll be out before you know it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you need anything else with your breakfast?”

  For a moment, I almost told her to sit on my face and let me stick my tongue up her snatch, but thankfully I had some self-control. “No, I think I’m okay…”

  “Alright, I’ll be back in about 30 minutes to collect your tray.”

  The nurse turned, and I licked my lips as the sight of her smooth legs and the way her hips swayed when she walked out the door. A need was pounding through my body like nothing ever had before.

  I really, really needed to get out of that hospital.

  Chapter 8

  I sat behind a large oval table at the top of an executive tower in downtown Los Angeles. It must have been at least 40 stories high. Sitting beside me was Mom and our family lawyer, Rico Johnson. On the other side of the table was a female attorney, a pretty Asian girl, and the drunk that had hit Mitch a little less than a week earlier.

  It turns out that the offender who hit Mitch was the owner of several shopping mall chains all over Southern California and had even been nominated to run for mayor in that year’s election. It was unlikely that he would join the race now that he was going to have a felony charge on his record, but he was desperate to avoid smearing his name any further and avoid ruining his business relations.

  We all sat in an uncomfortable silence for 10 minutes or so while we waited for Mitch, but eventually the door to the large conference room swung open, and Dad wheeled my brother in on a wheelchair.

  I hadn’t been able to visit him for the last 3 days due to school, so I was amazed at how much better he was looking. Gone were the bandages on his face, but he still had a cast on both an arm and a leg. Across his head were some lacerations and bruising, along with a large red scab on his forehead, but otherwise he looked healthy and alert.

  Everyone stood up as Dad pushed Mitch to the table, and I smiled at him when he passed by. He gave me a quick glance, but his face was set in a harsh frown as if he was clearly irritated about something. I don’t blame him; I’d be pissed off two if I had my life shut down by a drunk driver.

  We all sat back down in our seats, and the opposing lawyer began to speak first. “Thanks for taking the time to come out today. I represent my client here, Mr. Lawson. Since Mr. Lawson is a pretty recognized figure here in LA, he doesn’t want to get his insurance company involved in the case or have any long, drawn out civil suits. So if you agree, we’d like to put a settlement offer on the table.”

  Mom and Dad nodded, and Mitch sat in silence.

  “What’s your offer?” Our attorney, Rico asked sternly. Rico had wild, grey hair and reminded me of the scientist from Back to the Future.

  “I think it’d be easier if I just write a number down for you to see, and then you can decide if it’s a figure that you can agree to.” The woman pulled a small, square notepad out of her briefcase and quietly jotted a note on the top page before tearing it off and sliding the paper to Rico.

  Rico lifted the paper, and a smile inched across his face as he nodded approvingly and then passed the paper to Mom and Dad. Mom took one look at the number and said “Wow,” and Dad’s eyes opened wide as he let out a sigh of relief.

  When Dad moved to show the paper to Mitch, I caught a quick glance. $500,000. It was more money than I could imagine and certainly more money than Mom and Dad had ever seen in their lives. Dad made a slightly above average salary in the mines, and Mom worked part time helping to manage a daycare center near our home. It was enough money to take care of our family and pay the rent on our house, but not enough for savings or many extras.

  Of course, Mitch didn’t have a job, and this was his legal case. He was the person who had been injured, so never having been employed, $500,000 was about $500,000 more than he had ever earned in his lifetime. There was the occasional lawn mowing gig or summer side jobs that he would help Dad with for an extra twenty bucks here and there, but otherwise our parents supported him.

  Mitch eyed the paper, but his facial expression remained set in the melancholy frown that he had sported since he arrived in the conference room. I figured that he was still in a lot of pain from the accident or maybe had some other damage that was preventing him from responding.

  My Dad spoke first. “Well, ugh… This is more money than we–“

  “5 mill
ion dollars,” Mitch interrupted, silencing my Dad and shocking everyone in the room.

  Everyone turned their attention to Mitch, and the female attorney on the other end of the table said, “I’m sorry?”

  “I want 5 million dollars,” he reiterated firmly, speaking strong and and more sure of himself than I had ever seen. “If you want me to settle, then I want 5 million. Otherwise we’ll continue with a suit.”

  The opposing lawyer gave a half nervous smile and looked at Mitch. “Umm… Mr. Ryker, $500,000 is a lot of money. Maybe you just need some time to discuss this with your lawyer.”

  “Take it or leave it,” Mitch parried.

  “For Christ’s sake, he’s not even that hurt. Look at him…” the driver blurted. Judging by his Armani suit, he was a well off man, but by his unkempt hair, sagging eyes and the stubble on his face, the man probably hadn’t slept for days.

  The other attorney tried to quiet the defendant down, and Mitch shuffled in his wheelchair. For a moment, I thought he was going to stand, but instead he just lifted his unbroken arm and spoke with a sinister voice that I didn’t even recognize. “Listen to me, you asshole. I’m in this wheelchair because of you. You broke my bones and sent me to the grave. I’m lucky to be alive right now. And you… you have the gull to tell me that I’m not even hurt? I’ll show you what it’s like to be hurting when I take you for more than you’re worth.” Mom reached out in an attempt to ease Mitch’s arm down, but he pushed it away. “Either you take the settlement, or I’ll see you in court.”

  The female attorney looked toward Rico Johnson, but our lawyer just opened his eyes wide and gave her a shrug. “Can you give us a minute to discuss this?” she asked.

  “Just give it to him…” the drunk driver said dismissively, his face molten and sad. “Give him what he wants. I want this over with.”

  “Are you sure?” his attorney probed. “No negotiation?”