Bad Apple: A Stepbrother Romance (Devils & Angels Book 1) Page 9

  “Ugh,” I groaned, jumping off the couch.

  Over the past few days, I’d been alternating between feeling restless and languid. One minute I could be sitting down calmly, and in the next, I felt like my skin wanted to jump off my body. Out of things to do, I went to the bedroom to have a shower since I hadn't had one for the day yet. I was quick in the shower, and I got out and got dressed. But then I had nothing to do again, and the frustration was eating at me.

  “Why don’t I just go?” I said out loud, standing in the middle of my room. Fuck, one minute I was screaming to be a man and get on with things and the other time I was sitting back hoping for everything to sort itself out. But, I knew that life didn’t work that way, so why the fuck I kept dong it, was because it was easy.

  It wouldn’t hurt or anything, right? I would just go, see him, and hurry back. I could bury myself under the blankets like a little kid and wait for Claire to come back. Only, she’d been leaving for work early and coming back really late. I didn’t get mad at her anymore, just made sure there was dinner waiting for her whenever she got back.

  I hadn't gone back to sleeping in my room, either, unless it was during the day when she wasn’t around. She didn’t seem to mind, either. I would be asleep, then wake up a bit to the feel of her joining me in the bed and fall asleep again wrapping her in my arms.

  Should I just wait for the weekend? It’s only a day away! But what if she still has to go to work on Saturday? Could I wait for Sunday?

  No, I couldn’t. It wasn’t that long away, but I’d wasted enough time already. A whole week, since I’d been out of prison, was about to pass and I hadn't officially seen my sick dad yet. I felt ashamed of myself whenever I thought about it.

  My phone, left on the bed when I’d gone to shower, rang and I turned around to pick it up. The name on the screen was Claire, and I answered the call quickly.

  “Claire?”

  “Hey, Rogue,” she said.

  Her tone sounded defeated, and my shoulders slumped before she could even say more. It was lunch already, but she probably couldn’t leave work even for a little bit and would be coming back late again.

  “Work again?”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry, but my boss is riding me on this. I mean, it’s a pretty important case, so it’s not like I don’t understand, but he won’t let me take any time off at all. I’ll have to be in on Saturday, too.”

  “What about Sunday?” I asked.

  “I’ll have homework to do on Sunday so leaving will be impossible. I’m sorry, I don’t know when I’ll be able to go to the hospital with you, Rogue. I’ve already talked to Mom, and she knows it’s impossible for me. Do you think you can go on your own? You haven’t gone yet, right?”

  I clamped my mouth shut, wondering how she knew I hadn't gone yet. Though that was probably stupid. If she’d talked to her mom, then, of course, she would know I hadn't stepped a foot into Dad’s hospital room. Hannah practically lived there, from what I’d heard, so it couldn’t be a surprise.

  “It’s fine,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll probably just go today.”

  There was a short silence. Then, “Really?”

  I didn’t blame her for being skeptic, but I still rolled my eyes. I just needed to…pluck up the courage to go, and I was determined to this time. If I didn’t, then I would just drive myself mad with all the restlessness. Prison had gotten me used to sit around with nothing to do for long periods of time, day after day, but I couldn’t live like that on the outside. I didn’t have a choice there, but now that I did, it would be unbearable before too long, and I’d end up making another mistake.

  That couldn’t happen. Not again. Not with Ms. Brent as my parole office, or I’d be back in the slammer so fast my head would spin.

  “I’ll head over there right now,” I said. “Sorry to keep bothering you when you’re busy.”

  “It’s fine; it’s not your fault. I’ve never been this busy before, anyway. I’ll see you when I get back, Rogue.”

  We said our goodbyes and I cut the call. I had dressed already, and I had the card Claire had given me in my wallet, and enough cash for the taxi there so I wouldn’t have to stop on the way.

  I already told her I’d go, and I was getting sick and tired of my cowardice, so after walking around the house to take care of some of the restlessness I left.

  The whole trip there, pretty much the moment I stepped out of the house, I couldn’t stop my heart from beating too loudly. I felt a bit dazed when I made it to the hospital less than an hour later. I hadn't even eaten lunch yet, though that was probably a good thing with the way my stomach was lurching. I didn’t stop by the reception desk to let people know where I was headed, then went up to Dad’s room.

  Like last time, I stopped outside the door. Only it was fully closed this time, and I couldn’t hear a thing on the other side of it.

  Was Hannah not inside?

  You’re here already, I thought, clenching my fists. You’re not walking away again.

  Feeling like my heart was about to jump out of my chest, I raised my hand and opened the door, peeking inside. I didn’t see anyone around the bed, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I walked inside. My eyes turned to the bed, and I felt my inside go chill.

  Dad…

  He looked terrible. It was a miracle I could still recognize him. His face had thinned out, and while I couldn’t see much of his body under the sheets, it was probably just as bad. His cheeks were hollowed out, he had dark bags under his eyes, and even his hair had thinned out. He was in a bad way, all right.

  Why the fuck did I wait so long to come here?

  Shame slammed into me, so fierce I almost stumbled back. But, I held my place and even stepped forward. Slowly, I moved to stand beside the bed. One of his hands was draped on top of the covers and had an IV drip attached to it, along with some sensors attached to his fingertips.

  “Dad?” I called gently, my voice shaking and hoarse.

  He didn’t even twitch. My hand moved on its own to touch the back of his hand, and his skin was so cold, I felt my insides cool down to match. I couldn’t see his chest moving to tell if he was breathing, and if the heart monitor wasn’t there, beeping, I might have thought he wasn’t alive. I didn’t know if he was asleep or in a coma, but I couldn’t bring myself to try and wake him up.

  “Dad… I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my eyes blurring with tears as I ducked my head down and clenched my fists at my sides.

  “Shit,” I hissed.

  I should have come here a lot sooner. I knew I should have, but I had been too scared, and look at what met me when I finally arrived. I didn’t know the specifics of how he was doing, and I didn’t want to look for someone to ask, either, but from observation alone, he looked like he had one foot in his grave. The man on the bed didn’t match with the person I’d seen three years ago. Back then, he’d looked healthy. Big and imposing, a bit taller than me even.

  This was what he had been reduced to while I was gone.

  All this time. I’d wondered how our reunion would go once I got out of prison.

  I never thought it would be this bad.

  Shit!

  I couldn’t stay in the room anymore. I fucking wanted to cry, something that I'd never done. Even when I was sent down. I didn’t want to make a sound and wake him up. I turned around and marched toward the door, wiping my eyes while keeping my head ducked down so no one would see. I could remember the last time I cried well, only back then it had been because of physical pain, not emotional.

  Dammit! I felt like such a coward for not going to see him earlier, as soon as Claire told me he was sick and in the hospital. Why the fuck did I even hesitate? Whatever anger I held toward him, and I knew that no matter what he was still my dad.

  “Rogue!”

  The sound of my name made me freeze. There was only one person that would be at this hospital that knew my name. Slowly, I turned around to see Hanna, my Hannah, hurrying down the hallway toward me
, looking frantic. She hadn't been in the room, but she hadn't gone far.

  “Rogue,” she said again once she was closer to me, looking relieved. “I’m so glad to see you here.”

  I dropped both arms to my sides and looked silently at her. There was nothing I could say to her, though there was a lot that I probably should have been saying. A thank you, at least, for not leaving Dad alone while I was away.

  She didn’t seem to mind, sighing as she stepped up to me.

  “We need to talk, Rogue.”

  I didn’t think it could be possible, but my heart chilled even more at the grim expression on her face.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rogue

  I let Hannah lead me through the hospital. We didn’t go far, stopping at what looked to be the cafeteria. There were a few people around, patients sitting with people in street clothes and chatting. She led me to an empty table and had me sit, then sat down across from me.

  “Would you like something to eat?” she asked, arching her eyebrows.

  I frowned. I hadn't eaten, but I honestly didn’t feel like it. Especially not after seeing Dad looking like that.

  “No, thank you,” I said.

  “The food here isn’t as bad as people like to stereotype,” she said. “Are you sure you won’t be having any?”

  I nodded quietly, ducking my head to stare at the tabletop. I fidgeted with my hands on the table, curling and uncurling my fingers from around each other. I hadn't seen or spoken to Hannah longer than Dad, and though she was my Hannah, I didn’t know how to approach and talk to her most of the time, and the reverse was probably true. In the time since she’d gotten married to Dad I’d only talked to her a few times, really.

  “How have things been going?”

  I looked up and met her eyes, thinking that the last thing we should be doing is small talk. But, then what else could we talk about? Fuck, I just wasn’t in the mood for having a conversation right now. The grim look from before was gone, and she just looked kind. I couldn’t stand that look, either, though, and returned to staring at the table.

  “Okay,” I muttered after a long moment when she didn’t say anything else.

  “Good,” she murmured, folding her own hands on the table. “Now. You’ve…been in to see your dad, right?”

  I nodded slowly wanting to tell her that this wasn’t the first time I’d been here, but I kept my mouth shut finding it too difficult to speak.

  She didn’t speak immediately, and I didn’t have a thing to say, either, so I stayed silent. Whatever she had to tell me was obviously about Dad. I had so many questions, and with every second that passed, a new one was raised. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask them.

  What happened? When did they realize Dad was sick? How long had he been living like this?

  Why did no one tell me?

  So many questions but I kept them all to myself because I didn’t think I even wanted to know.

  “About…Richard,” she said after several minutes.

  “Claire told me it was lung cancer,” I said, looking up.

  She nodded, frowning. “Yeah. He just started feeling under the weather, and he would start coughing up a storm out of nowhere. He’d already quit smoking by that point, but the damage was already done. He’d only gone to see the doctor after I made him go because he was coughing too much, and we found out about the cancer.”

  I nodded slowly. A lot of people smoked, even knowing the threat of lung cancer that came with it. I was one of those people. But just because a lot of people called cigarettes cancer sticks, didn’t mean everyone got it, and I was one of those people that smoked anyway because I wanted to and I didn’t think I’d get sick from it.

  Dad probably thought the same thing and look where it got him. Lung cancer. Dying because of it.

  No matter what, I’m quitting smoking.

  “Richard…was as surprised as I was when he heard he was sick,” she continued. “It took him a couple of weeks to tell me what he’d head from the doctor. We sought treatment quickly, but it was already so far gone, and it’s in the worst place possible, too. In his lungs. None of the treatments we tried were successful. Right now…it’s a good thing if he can go a day without pain.”

  I squeezed my hands together, nails digging into the skin, and I didn’t care that it strung. If I stabbed myself to the point that I bled, it wouldn’t feel any worse than my chest was feeling listening to Hannah explain things to me.

  Dammit, someone should have told me! Even if he didn’t consider me his son at the time it happened, Dad should still have found some way for me to be informed! What would have happened if I didn’t get off early the way I did? Originally, I went in for five years, and I was out on three because of special circumstances.

  If I’d been in those extra two years, Dad might have died before I got out. Thinking back to the weak body in that hospital bed, ‘might’ was being too optimistic.

  Hearing, especially, how often he was in pain made me feel like I would suffocate. I had hated Dad for a time, but I didn’t hate him now, it had just been for the moment when I felt he wasn’t on my side when he was the one person I would expect to be. I’d even had thoughts, which if it had been Mom that was there, she would have given me the comfort I needed when I was at my lowest, unlike Dad who probably just didn’t know how to do it, if he wanted to in the first place.

  I regretted ever thinking that at that moment, only I couldn’t open my mouth to say sorry. Who would I be apologizing to, anyway?

  “Don’t look like that,” Hannah said, voice going lower. “Rogue?”

  I pressed my hands to my eyes. They were stinging with tears again, and I was having a hard time catching my breath. It felt like my lungs were getting squeezed from the inside out, not allowing air in. I didn’t notice when Hannah moved, but she was suddenly seated beside me, rubbing my back.

  “Come on, Rogue. Breathe with me, okay? In and out, slowly.”

  I closed my eyes, burying my face in my hands as I followed her words and breathed slowly, in and out, until it no longer felt like I would suffocate. I still felt like I wanted to cry, though.

  What exactly had I been doing with my life? The years before and during prison. Ever since I’d lost basketball, I’d done plenty that no parent would be proud off, and it felt like the weight of all those years was suddenly crushing me at that moment.

  “Richard didn’t want to see you like this, you know,” Hannah said gently, still running her palm up and down my back. “He was hoping…that he would be even a little better when you got out of prison. He…”

  “Does he know I’m out already?” I asked from behind my hands, the words coming out a bit muffled.

  She heard me, though. “Yes, he knows. I let him know as soon as I could after I talked to Claire.”

  “Then…has he…”

  Had he been waiting for me to see him since I’d come out? It hadn't been a week yet, but he looked like that, so wasn’t it just rude for me to have made him wait at all?

  “I heard from Richard that…you were adopted?” she asked.

  That had me raising my head. It was something I’d picked up back early in high school. Dad didn’t talk a lot about Mom, and he and I didn’t talk all that much, either, but I’d been a curious kid. He was rarely ever home, and I liked sneaking around the house when I didn’t have anything to do outside, which was rare, but still happened before I got serious about high school basketball. There had been some documents I’d found in my parents’ room that had surprised me.

  They were adoption papers, and all three of our names were on them; Mom, Dad and me.

  I was too young back then, so I hadn't understood much of it, and I didn’t read much on the documents after I realized what they were. I didn’t put them away, either, so Dad noticed when he got home that I’d found them.

  He never said anything about the documents. But I never found them again after that. There was no way to say if he’d gotten rid of them, or what
exactly happened.

  Since he never brought it up again, I didn’t either. But after how he’d acted when I was injured, that I was adopted had made a lot of sense, although I’d just been using it as an excuse to myself.

  “Dad…told you about that?”

  “He mentioned adoption papers to me and that you saw them,” she clarified.

  I nodded slowly. “Yeah, in my freshman year of high school. We never really talked about it, though.”

  She nodded as I spoke, looking thoughtful. “Did you read the documents? Or do you know what the documents said?”

  I shook my head. “Uh, not really? I remember reading names and adoption somewhere in the documents, but I didn’t read anything after that. I never found the papers again, either. Have you seen them?”

  “No, I haven’t. Your dad just spoke to me about them, that’s all.”

  She had a strange expression on her face, and I wanted to ask what it was about, but before I could, she started speaking to me about how Dad was doing recently. I listened to everything she said, and I was glad to hear that he wasn’t in a coma or anything. He often woke up to eat and do other stuff, and he could move somewhat even though he was mostly bedridden. When the doctor thought it was okay, she was allowed to push him around in a wheelchair, though a nurse had to be close by and the IV drip went with them.

  “You can come back and see him any time,” she told me as she walked me out of the cafeteria, toward the elevators. “I’ll let him know you stopped by when he wakes up again. I’m sure he’ll be glad to know you stopped by.”

  “Okay,” I murmured.

  She opened her arms for me, and I was stumped for a moment what she could want when it occurred to me that she wanted to hug me. I leaned toward her, a bit mechanically because platonic hugs weren’t my thing. Well, not until recently, but that was different. Holding Claire to sleep wasn’t entirely platonic hugging.