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She shot me a grin and picked up another file.
I made my way to the treatment room my patient was in. Was it my stepbrother? I hadn’t seen him in nine years, and only a few times before that.
We might not have been raised together, or even spent any significant amount of time together, but my stepfather had made sure I spent my childhood hearing about how perfect Graham was and how much of a disappointment I was in comparison. Not to mention the stuff he said about my other stepbrother, Eliot. That kid was a literal genius and nothing I did could even begin to compare with either of the Hawthorne brothers.
“Hello?” I paused outside the curtain. “Graham?”
“Yeah?” an exhausted but familiar voice called out.
Even as a teenager, Graham had a raspy quality to his voice. I pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the treatment area.
“The fuck?” Graham sat on the bed and stared at me with wide eyes.
Definitely my stepbrother. He looked eerily the same. His light blond hair was longer now, shaved close on the sides and a bit floppy on top. His features had sharpened, and his strong jawline and straight nose were even more perfect and striking than before.
His body was something else, too. He’d always been fit since he’d been a champion swimmer, but the kid I’d last seen had been all arms and shoulders with thick thighs and a tiny waist. He still had the thick thighs and broad shoulders, but now his muscle tone was more evenly distributed, giving him a sculpted look that hinted he didn’t just go to the gym. He had a physical job.
“Hi, I’m Caleb, and I’ll be your nurse.” I flipped the file open. Hopefully he’d follow my lead and ignore the fact that we knew each other.
“Just fucking perfect.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds. “Of course you work here.”
“Do you want me to get someone else?”
If he’d reacted with anger or hostility, I would have told him to deal with it, but the defeat in his voice and body language was weird. It didn’t track with the moody, volatile kid I remembered.
“If you do, how much longer will I have to wait?” he asked tiredly.
“I can’t give you a definite answer, but a while. We’re unusually busy tonight.”
He sighed, the sound hollow. “It’s fine.”
“Can you take your sweater off so I can do a quick exam?”
“What do you mean?” Graham stiffened.
“You told triage your arm is hurt, and that you had the wind knocked out of you when you sustained a kick to the side and stomach. I need to do an exam.”
“I… I can’t take it off.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Graham.”
He bit his lip and fixed his gaze on the floor.
“Look at me.”
He did, and the fear in his eyes confused me. What the hell was going on?
“Why can’t you take your sweater off?”
“I was…at work when it happened. I didn’t get a chance to shower.”
“Being sweaty isn’t anything new. I’m a nurse, trust me when I say I’ve seen it all.”
His expression shifted from panicked to angry.There it is.
