Breaking Brandon (Fate 2)

She sighed heavily, and he dared not look her way for fear she might be making another expression that might have him sighing too. This was getting ridiculous. Already, he was having unacceptable thoughts and visions of things that were completely inappropriate.

They reached the emergency room, and he drove right up to the entrance. “Stay here,” he said as he rushed in.

He was able to quickly acquire a wheelchair and brought it out then helped her out of the cart. Trying not to put too much thought on how tightly she wrapped her arms around his neck, he abstained from holding her just as tightly. He did, however, allow himself to indulge in her scent again. As he lowered her onto the seat, he glanced up just as she loosened her hold on him and froze when he realized he was close enough to taste those lips. She stared at him for a moment as he stood there bent over, unbelievably tempted at that most inopportune moment to kiss her.

“You okay?” he asked, still not moving away.

She nodded, continuing to hold his gaze.

He swallowed hard because this was so unlike him and because he knew once this night was over he’d be regretting this. Finally he moved away. Handing her the purse from the back seat of the golf cart, he came around the back of the chair and began pushing her inside the emergency room. As much as he knew he should take her up on her offer to call someone else, he wasn’t ready to leave her side just yet. Damn, he was going to regret this tomorrow.

Already, he regretted having met with his original drill instructor last weekend. Brandon hated to admit it, but unlike anyone, Sergeant Taft held a special place in his heart. Taft had been the one who straightened Brandon’s ass out in the first place. As far as Brandon was concerned, Taft was the reason why he hadn’t dropped out those first few punishing weeks of boot camp when he’d considered doing so on more than one occasion. He was also Brandon’s inspiration and why he’d become a drill instructor in the first place. For those reasons, he kept the man at bay. It’d be too easy to start to feel an emotional attachment to this friend. Brandon didn’t make emotional attachments. He made no exceptions. But when Taft heard Brandon would be in California, he invited him to his home for dinner with his wife.

Feeling too duty-bound to a man he held in such high esteem, he’d accepted, but the thought of getting too close scared the hell out of him. The now semi-retired Sergeant and his wife had been so pleasant and welcoming. They even insisted now that Brandon was based in California he visit more often and said they’d be visiting him too. Brandon had regretted the visit the moment he’d walked out of their home. Just like then, he knew he’d be regretting this entire night by tomorrow morning, possibly even sooner. So why the hell wasn’t he walking away yet?

The emergency room was busy, but they still got in fast.

“Just wheel her over behind that second curtain on your right.” The nurse pointed as Brandon started wheeling her in that direction. “There’ll be someone in there to take all her information in a few minutes. You can help your wife onto the bed. The doctor will be with her shortly after they’ve taken her vitals.”

She walked away before either of them could explain the misunderstanding. Brandon and Ms. Brady exchanged glances as her cheeks shaded with slight color.

Without a word, Brandon continued to wheel her over to the bed the nurse had pointed to. When they reached it, Ms. Brady attempted to stand on her own, holding the end of the bed and the arm of the chair. “Let me help you,” he quickly offered, pulling her arm around his neck.

Grabbing on to him, she hopped toward the bed that was a bit high for her, so he lifted her by the waist. Again their faces came just inches from each other. Thankfully, just as they’d been caught in another staring contest, someone cleared his throat loudly just behind Brandon, snapping them out of it.

A young man held a clipboard and smiled broadly then pulled a pen out of his front pocket. “Good evening.” He spoke quickly, holding the clipboard in front of him. “I’m Rob, and you are Mrs. Brady, right?”

“It’s Ms.” She corrected him politely. “I’m not married, and you can call me Regina.”

Rob looked up at her then at Brandon, his eyebrows furrowing. “Oh, I’m sorry, Regina.” He looked back down on his clipboard and wrote something. “The nurse out front said you were here with your husband.”

Ms. Brady glanced at Brandon, her poignant eyes looking even more innocent as he saw how she tried to hide the pain she was feeling. She quickly brought her attention back to Rob. “No, um.” She winced now, unable to hide it anymore. Brandon had had his share of sprained ankles and ligament injuries, and he knew how painful they could be. “I guess she just assumed,” she continued, pressing her lips together for a moment. “This is Sergeant Billings. We work in the same building where I fell. He was there when it happened and was kind enough to help get me here.”

Rob and Brandon’s eyes met for a second before Rob turned back to Ms. Brady. “Ah, I see. Okay, well, now that we got that straight, I need to get a little more information from you before we start with your vitals.” He looked down at her ankle. “Yep, that’s pretty swollen. It might even be broken.”

“Can you get her some painkillers first?” Brandon spoke up, knowing firsthand how long this could take.

“I can,” Rob said, his brow lifting without looking up, “but I need to get some info from her first.”

Brandon looked down at Rob’s ID. Corporal Robert Lansing—ER. The fact that this young corporal hadn’t referred to him as sir was enough to piss Brandon off. He’d never tolerated that kind of disrespect, but the fact that the ass**le didn’t even bother to look at him when he addressed him and that he’d used a condescending tone was more than Brandon would tolerate.