Think Twice Read online

  By Stephanie Rose

  Dedication

  Grandma,

  #lucky7 is all for you. I can hear you saying “it’s about time.” For the woman who raised me, feared for my mushy heart and pushed me to be tough, and loved me beyond all reason. Thank you for all those afternoons watching All My Children, Another World, and General Hospital (even though you swore to Mom you didn’t let me watch) that most likely led me to this romance writing gig.

  Thirteen years without you and it never stops hurting. I love you and hope you’re proud of what you see.

  And for all the Book+Main readers who followed Hidden, I hope you enjoy the full story.

  Think Twice by Stephanie Rose

  Copyright © 2019 by Stephanie Rose

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted on any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

  Except the original material written by the author, all songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in the book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  Cover Design: Oh So Novel

  Editing: Christine Allen-Riley

  Proofreading: Mitzi Pummer Carroll

  Created with Vellum

  Soundtrack

  Alone – Heart

  Into the Night – Benny Mardones

  Jealous – Nick Jonas, Tinashe

  Feels Like Tonight – Daughtry

  She Will Be Loved – Maroon 5

  Wonderwall – Oasis

  This Feeling – The Chainsmokers

  Everything – Michael Bublé

  When I’m With You – Sheriff

  Angel – Aerosmith

  Cross That Line – Joshua Radin

  Rewrite The Stars – James Arthur, Anne-Marie

  The Scientist – Coldplay

  Marry You – Bruno Mars

  All of Me – John Legend

  Available on Spotify

  1

  Jack

  I’d never been so damn miserable in my own skin.

  My mother said I was the world’s worst patient every time I got sick, and she was spot-fucking-on. She’d never had to worry about me faking sickness or injury to get out of going to school. Even if I’d had the inclination, the threat of staring at the four walls of my room for an entire day was enough to get me off my ass and moving. The only time I stayed home was when I absolutely had to. Only problem was now I couldn’t move without blinding pain. And it bugged the living shit out of me.

  I steadied myself on crutches as I entered the waiting room. Even now, using crutches was pushing it as I didn’t have the strength to hold myself up yet. My quivering arms and the beads of sweat on my forehead irritated me with every painful step. I should’ve been in a wheelchair, but I hated that damn thing. I could never work the wheels right and ended up ricocheting off walls and anyone unfortunate enough to be within a ten-foot radius. I was here to learn how to walk again, so I figured I might as well start now.

  “Easy, Jack,” my mother warned from behind me. “No need to rush and get hurt.”

  I sank my teeth into my bottom lip to cover an audible hiss. God forbid my family stopped hovering for a single second. I really wasn’t this big of an asshole; at least, not usually. I loved my parents and my little sister, but ever since my injury and surgery, I hadn’t had a second alone. And I needed help doing just about everything. Nothing was more shaming than having your own mother, who was half your size, hold you up so you could take a piss.

  Not so long ago, I was on top of the world. I was a firefighter, which had been my dream job since I was a kid, and I had a beautiful girlfriend who adored me. I was finally out of the probie stage and riding the rig. The challenge, the adrenaline, the falling back on my pillow each night knowing that because of me people were safe and sound—I mattered in this world and was right where I was supposed to be. However, a little over a month ago, on an otherwise boring night in May, I was in the worst place at the worst possible time.

  An old tenement went up in flames. The building was so rotted, how it had managed to stand for sixty-some-odd years was astounding. A handful of squatters shadowed the windows as we pulled up, so we charged in to clear them out before the building collapsed. I rushed in, believing the smoke and flames billowing from every crevice were what I had to worry about, not the second story floor giving way beneath me. The ceiling beneath had melted, sending a few of us through it as if it was a trap door. The fall knocked me unconscious, and when I awoke, I was lying in a hospital bed, pins in my elevated leg thanks to a broken tibia bone, dislocated knee, and a collection of painful muscle lacerations. The painkillers filtering through my veins did little to quell the agony. I was miserable in both body and spirit.

  “Hi,” I grumbled as I inched toward the desk. “Jack Taylor. I’m here to check in.”

  Like it was a goddamn hotel.

  “Oh, sure,” the young woman behind the counter chirped. She didn’t look much older than my teenage sister. My body was sore, rigid, and agitated. I couldn’t even force a smile and returned any kindness with a sneer as of late. Underneath it all, I felt terrible, but on the surface, I was infuriated by my situation and at my leg that didn’t work anymore. This was the toughest physical therapy facility in the state and my only chance to return to work.

  Chance, that was—not certainty. I’d always wanted to be a firefighter, so that’s what I’d become. I’d never had a Plan B or imagined taking a different path, and the thought of having to find one made me want to spit nails across the sign-in clipboard on the counter.

  “Give us one moment, and we’ll show you to your room.” Her mouth stretched into a smile, and I nodded in response. My family had to take my bullshit, but these people didn’t. Somehow, I needed to curb the bad attitude in public.

  “Jack,” my sister, PJ, called from behind me. “Why don’t you sit until they come—”

  “Because,” I spat out, “by the time I get myself in one of those chairs, I’ll have to get back up, again. Just doing that will fucking exhaust me for the rest of the day.”

  She huffed behind me, and I swallowed the twinge of guilt. If I wasn’t hurt, my sister wouldn’t stand for my pissy attitude. That was almost as bad as being coddled. Everyone tiptoed on eggshells around me, their frustration with me written all over their faces but their pity prevented them from ever voicing it. The strained dynamic compounded the uselessness I felt with every angry breath I took.

  “Easy,” my dad growled. “Your sister was only trying to help.”

  I swiveled my head to view the disapproval of his ticking jaw. He was the most level-headed, patient man I’d ever known, but I guessed I was—finally—wearing him thin. Me leaving the house for a while would be good for all of us. This place promised the most intensive rehabilitation in the state, and if I had the smallest prayer of getting back on that truck, this was the only place to be.

  “Here you go, Mr. Taylor.” The nurse, or whoever she was, stepped away from the desk and strode to a wheelchair in the corner, gripping the handles and rolling it over to me. “Your room is all the way at the end of the hall; the therapists will tire you out tomorrow, believe me.” She chuckled, causing my blood to roar as it came to a boil. “I can see you want to get started right away, but save your energy.”

  From the corner of my eye, I glanced at Da
d’s raised brow, his silent command to reel it the hell in and get in the chair. As with everything he’d asked me to do since I was a kid, I complied. I set the crutches along the edge of the desk and hopped in, feeling the eyes of the three most important people in my life burn into my back. Along with the hovering, their worry was palpable, and though they meant well, and it came from love, it was stifling as fuck.

  The trip to my room was silent, my dad carrying my bag and my mother and sister following us. Once the nurse wheeled me over the threshold, she parked me on a slant next to the wall.

  “We’ll be in later with your schedule for tomorrow, and I’ll go grab your crutches. Dinner trays should be coming soon, and your family can stay another couple of hours if they’d like. Ring the nurses’ bell if you need anything.” She gave me a warm smile before strolling out of my room.

  “This place is really nice.” PJ sauntered over to the window. “Maybe they can take you outside or something tomorrow—”

  “I won’t have time,” I snapped back. “The doctor told me I’m going to be in hard-core PT all day just to learn to walk again. I couldn’t give a shit about the rolling hills, anyway.”

  Her short legs marched over to me, her mouth twisted in a sneer. “I was just trying to bring out the positive, Jack. You don’t have to keep biting my damn head off.”

  “I’ll put these in the middle drawers, for now,” Mom cut off my sister as she regarded me with tentative eyes. “That way you don’t have to bend or reach.”

  I blew out an annoyed gust of air. “I know I can’t walk or move around that well, Mom. You didn’t have to explain.”

  “Oh my God! Enough, Jack!” PJ’s squeaky yell made us all jump. She strutted back up to my wheelchair, nostrils flaring as her angry gaze zeroed in on me. “I hate seeing you like this. We all do. But we’ve suffered right along with you.” Her voice cracked before she bit her lip. “So stop being such an asshole!”

  I spied the glossy sheen of my mother’s eyes during my sister’s rant, and I wished I could take back the words. My tone and shitty disposition were eating away at her. We had always been close; my tiny mother had been my protector until I was six years old and Dad had come into our lives. She tried like hell to hide it, but it killed her to see me like this—hurt and broken in every way. My gaze dropped from hers. The shame constricting my chest prevented me from lifting my head.

  “Hey, Peanut,” Dad called to my sister as he dug into his pocket. “I think I saw a vending machine at the end of the hall. Would you mind getting me a bottle of water?” He handed her a couple of bills and nodded to the door with his chin. “Why don’t you take a walk with her, Ella-Jane?” He narrowed his eyes at my mother before she finally nodded. Dad was about to tear me a new one and didn’t want them to see.

  PJ’s cheeks were still reddened with rage while her eyes filled with tears. My fiery little sister was ready to blow. She looked between Dad and me before she grabbed the money from Dad’s hand. Her mouth opened to say something as Mom pulled her away by the arm.

  “Let’s go, PJ. I could use some candy.”

  PJ gave us a cursory glance before she took Mom’s hand and left the room.

  I sank back in my wheelchair, my eyes pinned to the floor, as an unnerving silence fell over us.

  “Dad.” I lifted my gaze and spoke first, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t come. “I’m so—”

  “Did I ever tell you what happened the night of the … of when you got hurt?” Dad leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  I stayed silent and shook my head.

  “After your lieutenant called us, I piled your mother and sister in the car, and we headed for the hospital. Your sister sobbed the whole way. Your mother and I had to keep yelling at her to breathe. Your mom didn’t cry, just shook like a leaf in the passenger seat until we pulled up.” He took in a deep breath before leaning back and crossing his arms.

  “I’ve been on the job since I was your age, but I was only ever on one call when the floor collapsed.” He swallowed as he shook his head. “It didn’t end well; let’s put it that way.”

  He rose from his seat and crouched in front of my chair.

  “So, we pulled up to the hospital; I’m still telling your mom and sister that you’ll be fine, this happens more than you think, any other bullshit my mind cooked up at the time. But me? My gut twisted a thousand times over. All I could think was—” His voice cracked as he squeezed my shoulder. “—what am I going to do without my son?”

  I slumped even lower as I peered at Dad, my hero, the bravest man I’d ever known, with unshed tears filling his eyes.

  “We rushed in, and they led us to you. You were unconscious with a badly broken leg. I’ve never been so relieved in my life. I thanked God, my parents, your father, that we still had our boy. Whatever shape you were in—you were alive, and I knew you’d be okay.”

  I huffed out a laugh. “Okay is a relative term, I guess.”

  “I’m not making light of it. You have a long road ahead of you, but you’ll come through. I know it seems like one shitty break after another.”

  My life for the past few weeks was a parade of shitty breaks: broken leg, dislocated knee, torn up muscles, and an ex-girlfriend who didn’t even wait until I was fully out of anesthesia to dump me.

  “But you’re tough, and you’re a survivor. But the chip on your shoulder will only set you back. It’s time to drop it, son.”

  “What if…” I trailed off, unable to admit my biggest fear. “What if I can’t go back?” All I’d ever wanted was to be a firefighter. I was alive, but I had no idea if I’d ever get back the life I wanted. It had all slipped through my fingers the moment I fell through the floor.

  “You’re young and healthy, and this place will put you through the wringer.” He laughed as he cupped the back of my neck. “If for any reason you … can’t.” He shrugged. “You can’t. You’re more than a firefighter. You’ll figure it out. And you’re alive. It may seem you were dealt a bad hand, but it’s a gift, Jack.” He stood and kissed the top of my head. “And if you ever speak to your mother and sister like that again, even though I love you and I’m grateful, I’ll slap you upside the head regardless if you can walk. Got it?”

  I laughed for the first time in I couldn’t remember how long. “I got it, Dad. I love you guys, too. And I’m sorry.”

  “Here, Dad.” PJ’s squeaky and reluctant voice drifted into the room as she held up a bottle of water. “And they had Reese’s Pieces.” She ambled over to me and dropped the bag into my lap. “I know they’re your favorite,” she mumbled, refusing to meet my eyes.

  Some big brother I was. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a hug. “Thanks, baby sister.” I kissed her cheek, and she relaxed into me. “I’m sorry, Peege,” I whispered.

  She nodded after she pulled back, swiping away the couple of tears she didn’t think anyone saw.

  “We probably should get back.” Mom came over to me, her smile wider than I’d seen in a long time. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” She dropped her hand to my shoulder. I picked it up and laced our fingers together.

  “Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.” I kissed the top of her hand, and her eyebrows shot up.

  “Did we miss an exorcism?” she asked Dad with a furrowed brow.

  “Sort of.” He laughed and gave me a pat on the back. “Talk to you tomorrow, Jack.”

  I watched as they left. Dad was right; being a jerk wasn’t going to help me. My head fell back and I studied the ceiling. I was frustrated, uncomfortable as hell, and so mad at my girl—ex-girlfriend I couldn’t let myself think about it for too long. The urge to get up and throw something wasn’t exactly cathartic if I needed crutches to do it.

  But my dad had a great point. Despite all I’d been through, there was one thing I couldn’t ignore.

  I was still here.

  2

  PJ

  “He’s going to be okay, Peanut. In fact, I think he’s better already.�
�� My father gazed into his rearview mirror at me as we made our journey back to the Bronx from the rehab center. I met his gaze for a quick second and nodded.

  “I shouldn’t have yelled at him like that.” I fixed my gaze on the highway whizzing by my window as I swallowed a sob. Since Jack had gotten hurt, I’d cried so much for him, the dehydration made me dizzy. Seeing him like that, helpless and frustrated and not at all the boisterous, smart-ass big brother I idolized, ate away at me. Of course, getting the initial call that he’d been critically injured, and riding to the hospital with my parents with the bone-chilling terror that we might have lost him had, most likely, taken a year or two off my life.

  “I think that may have been exactly what he needed.” Mom craned her head and reached over to pat my bobbing knee. “You know your brother. Being babied by all of us made him feel even worse. You’ve never pulled punches with him. I think you were three the first time you told him off.”

  An unexpected laugh escaped me. Despite our eight-year age difference, my brother and I were close. “Close” sometimes meant bickering to the point our parents would scream at us to shut up, but Jack was everything to me, and almost losing him rocked me to my core. It gutted me to see him suffer, and his injuries affected both his body and spirit. I prayed the damage wasn’t permanent, and today, after spotting a glimpse of the brother I knew, I was hopeful. For the first time since his accident, it seemed like he’d be okay, after all.

  The only thing that soothed my nerves was daydreaming of punching his ex-girlfriend, Marina, in her perfect—and I suspected, surgically enhanced—nose and drawing blood. Who breaks up with their boyfriend immediately after surgery? They’d been dating for years, and I’d never been a fan, but hurting my brother when he was at his lowest made me want to tear her eyes out right out of the fake-lashes-lined sockets.