Page 75 of Broken Roads
"Sounds like a party in there," I comment despite the sudden tension that's crackling in the air between us.
"Yeah." The single word comes out clipped, guarded in a way I haven't heard since my first days at the ranch.
As we approach the front porch, Bradley's pace slows, and I feel his reluctance in the way he hesitates before each step. It's such a stark contrast to the man who couldn't keep his hands off me all morning that alarm bells start ringing in my head.
"Bradley? Everything okay?"
He blinks, seemingly shaking himself out of whatever thoughts have gripped him. "Fine. Just wondering who's visiting."
But there's something in his voice—a tightness, an edge—that tells me he has a suspicion he's not sharing. Before I can press further, he opens the front door, and the voices become clearer.
"... and then the patient wakes up right in the middle of the procedure and asks if we're done yet." A male voice I don't recognize finishes what must be a funny story, because Bradford's deep laugh follows, along with Ruthie's delighted chuckle.
Bradley freezes in the entryway, his body suddenly rigid beside me. I look up at his face and my stomach drops at what I see there. His jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumps in his cheek. Eyes narrowed, his entire expression has hardened into something I barely recognize.
"Bradley?" I whisper, but he doesn't respond, doesn't even seem to hear me.
Instead, he moves forward like a man walking to his own execution, each step deliberate and heavy. I follow, my hand still in his, feeling like I'm being pulled into a current I don't understand.
The dining room doorway frames a scene that looks deceptively normal at first glance—Bradford and Ruthie seated at the table, Sawyer leaning against the wall with a coffee mug in hand, Beckett perched on the edge of the table. But it's the fifthperson who draws my attention. A tall man with his back to us, gesturing animatedly as he continues his story.
Even from behind, there's something familiar about him. He's dressed in clothes that scream city money: tailored slacks, a crisp button-down rolled to the elbows, an expensive watch glinting on his wrist.
Ruthie spots us first and her face lights up. "There you two are. We were wondering when you'd make it back." The warmth in her eyes as they flick between Bradley and me suggests she knows exactly where we've been and what we've been doing, but there's no teasing in her tone. Instead, she seems almost... eager? Or is that look nerves?
At her words, the stranger turns, and my breath catches in my throat. It's like looking at Bradley through some strange mirror that alters just enough details to create a different person. The same dark eyes, but sharper somehow. The same strong jawline, but clean-shaven. He's Bradley and not Bradley all at once.
"Brad," the man says. His smile falters slightly at the edges, uncertainty creeping in as he takes in Bradley's thunderous expression. "Surprise?"
The tension in the room skyrockets, thick enough that I feel like I'm choking on it. Bradford clears his throat uncomfortably while Ruthie's eyes dart between the two men with naked concern. Sawyer suddenly finds his coffee mug fascinating, and Beckett shifts from foot to foot.
Bradley's hand has gone slack in mine, but I hold on tighter, offering whatever support I can despite my confusion. I search his face, trying to understand what's happening, but his eyes never leave the stranger.
"Bradley," I whisper, "what's wrong?"
He doesn't answer me. Doesn't even glance my way. His entire focus is locked on the man standing across the room, a man who looks enough like him to be—
Oh. Understanding crashes over me like a bucket of ice water. This must be Sebastian. The brother who left without saying goodbye. The doctor in the city. The walking embodiment of every abandonment issue Bradley carries.
He takes a tentative step forward, hands spread slightly in a placating gesture. "I know I should have called first—"
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Bradley's voice is so low, so dangerous that I barely recognize it. The words vibrate with hurt, anger, and betrayal.
Sebastian's smile disappears completely, his shoulders squaring as if bracing for a physical blow.
"Good to see you too, little brother," Sebastian says, his attempt at lightness falling flat in the heavy atmosphere. "Been a while."
"Not long enough," Bradley growls, his fingers finally tightening around mine again, as if he's just remembered I'm standing beside him. The gesture feels both protective and possessive, like he's using our connection to ground himself in this unexpected storm.
Bradford pushes to his feet, face creased with worry. "Now, son—"
"Don't," Bradley cuts him off, the single word sharp enough to make everyone flinch. His eyes never leave Sebastian's face as he repeats his question, each word precisely enunciated, "What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing. Here?"
I stand frozen beside him, caught in the crossfire of a family drama I don't understand but can feel down to my bones. Whatever happened between these brothers goes deeper than just leaving without saying goodbye. The wound is still raw, still bleeding after all these years.
And now, standing in the warm dining room that just yesterday felt like it was becoming my home too, I'm witnessing the moment when that wound gets ripped wide open again.
Chapter 31
