DECEIT (B723) Read online

  DECEIT IS A PART OF AN INTERCONNECTED SERIES AND IS A STANDALONE.

  IT IS HIGHLY RECOMMENDED TO READ OVERCAST FIRST JUST TO GET A FULL VIEW OF B723 BUT IS NOT REQUIRED.

  THIS BOOK MAY HAVE WHAT IS CONSIDERED DARK ELEMENTS AND DOES HAVE TRIGGERS…PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

  XOXO,

  HAZEL

  DECEIT PLAYLIST

  I stare down at lucid green eyes, ones that peer up at me with two things I didn't come here for—sheer interest and flirting.

  "Hardy Bishop," I sneer. "I need to know where the fuck he is."

  The nurse in pink scrubs slowly glances over at the nurses' station as if we both have all the time in the world.

  "He's in a room," another woman's voice asserts. "But, sir, you'll be looking for the little girl—" I spin around so quickly that my eyes don't connect with the middle-aged nurse until I blink a few times to focus.

  With wrinkles under her sleepy, dark brown eyes and a frown that reminds me of my grandmother, she peers up at me with pure exasperation as if I did something to her. Then instant remorse fills her features because of why I’m here in the first place.

  I don’t come to hospitals for shits and giggles.

  "What?" I snap when she doesn't continue, my lungs trying to keep up with my movements and the growing dread filling my body. "What about her?"

  "You're in the Pediatric Intensive Care unit right now. She was thrown from the car."

  "My brother…" I flex my jaw to keep from losing my entire shit in the middle of this stale and depressing as fuck hallway. "Where is he? Where is…the little girl?"

  "Room 223…he's restrained." My brows snap together before I deliver her a full-blown glare. "He has a broken arm and severe contusions, sir."

  "From what? He wasn't in the car." The nurse glances around. Apparently, my voice has lifted to an outdoor level.

  "He got into a fight with the men in the other car."

  My mind goes to warp-drive mode.

  Car accident.

  My niece.

  It's really bad.

  I shake my head to get it somewhat settled. I didn't get the entire event on what happened from my baby sister, just those three sentences that plagued me the whole way here. Causing me to go well over the speed limit and through half a pack of smokes.

  Turning around, I begin to walk then realize I already forgot the room number. I release an irritated grunt and spin back to find the same nurse already waiting for me.

  She points to her left. "That way, middle of the hall on the right. Room 223."

  With a slight bit of hesitation, I make my way past rooms and medical personnel, glancing at charts while making their rounds. I think about how I should've called my best friend, Kyson, and got him up here with me. He's good with this shit—calm, collected, polite.

  Not a raving mess like I am right now with one hell of a temper and lack of patience.

  When my feet land outside the door of room 223, they won't move. All I hear from behind the chipped ivory-colored door is the soft beeping of machines that immediately twists my gut.

  I haven't seen my brother and sister in fucking years.

  I'm talking decades.

  Not since they were taken from me by their father to live in a better home than the one Mom had us in. A home that involved her coke-headed friends and men that liked to screw little children.

  At the time, I was pissed that he took off with my only siblings, but as time grew on, I can't say I blame the fucker. It just would've been nice to say goodbye and, I don’t know, an address to write to them.

  Scarlett and Hardy were my entire universe. From the age of ten, I took care of them, fed them, stole clothes and school supplies, took Scarlett to her first school dance, and made sure Hardy had money for football.

  I was mom and dad. I made time. I made sure their stomachs didn’t ache at night from being hungry or that they were picked on in school. I kept the monsters at bay that visited our janky trailer.

  Then like every other typical day, I came home to all their shit gone. Everything was thrown around in what looked to be a quick bustle of packing their shit and leaving nothing but dust behind with my brother and sister in tow.

  I never slept in my room again.

  I stayed in theirs because even though it badgered me with memories, they used to be there. We used to watch TV and read stories. It's where we used to do homework and talk about school, projects, and events.

  It was our sanctuary.

  Then it became just me, fending for myself against the muck of ass clowns that visited the double-wide shithole I called home.

  The door to the dreaded room 223 suddenly swings open, causing me to step back. A young woman in her twenties comes out. Her chin tucked into her chest as she softly closes it behind her before it jerks up.

  As if she can sense me.

  Wavy brown hair touches her shoulders as light blue eyes pierce right into mine. The faint scattering of freckles still lines the bridge of her nose and cheekbones as her brows slightly furrow, flicking her gaze up all six foot two of me covered in facial hair and, more than likely, the broody-ass expression I always carry.

  She's at least five-six in height, wearing faded blue jeans and a gray sweatshirt, looking hella grown up and not so nine-years-old anymore.

  That was the last time I saw her.

  I sent her to school with a pink Power Ranger shirt on and her hair in a ponytail. It was the last time we were ever in the same room together.

  Scarlett.

  My baby sister.

  When our eyes connect again, it's awkward. I don't know if it's because she feels the same invisible tether that I do or if she's ready to get the elephant out of the way with the conversation of how are you, and it's been a long time over with too.

  I have nothing to say.

  Shit, I never have anything to say.

  Words are a waste of time when I'd rather act than ask questions. It allows distractions and miscommunication, two topics that I don't deal well with.

  I obviously didn't do a fantastic job with keeping in touch either, to which there isn't an excuse. We're all grown, and there are these little things called cell phones that we could get better at using.

  I've spoken to my brother and sister briefly through text messages, but seeing them, as adults with lives of their own, is a harsh reality check of how much time has actually gone by.

  Scarlett moves forward, but it's not to clear the way for me to go inside the room but to abruptly wrap her arms around my waist.

  She squeezes, digging her fingers into my back, and—fuck, she's a strong little thing. Her face buries into my chest as I feel her frame begin to tremble while mine begins to tense.

  I am the worst person to comfort someone.

  I don't handle emotions—another remarkable trait of mine. They're worthless to ponder on, so I obliterate and ignore them, shove them away in a dark pit that never sees the light of day.

  It's why I'm deemed the biggest asshole on B723, just short of being called a cuddly teddy bear except—call it a sibling bond—I don't stay tense for long, and I don't feel the violent urge to shove Scarlett away from me.

  "You're here." She mutters the words, almost too inaudible and softly to hear with her face smashed into my chest.

  "Yeah." I slowly enveloping my arms around her and tighten my hold because I don't know what else to do. "How is he doing?"

  She shakes her head but says nothing more. I'm betting that she hasn't left this hospital or eaten since everything happened yesterday.

  "Did you eat?" She shakes her head again. "I'm assuming Hardy hasn't either."

  "No…he won't leave the room." I nod, even though she can't see it. His daughter has to be about five or six now. I
send her birthday gifts every year and throw money into a bank account that I have set up for her. Hardy sends me pictures now and again but never presses the issue for me to come and meet her. We're all still teeter-tottering on this awkward line where they don't know where they fit in my life and vice versa.

  It needs to change.

  I want it to.

  "How bad?"

  Prying her face from me, Scarlett's eyes are glossed over in unshed tears. She doesn't remove herself from my grasp, probably content with someone giving her a hug while she's had to be strong for our brother.

  "Some brain swelling, they're afraid it may have caused some damage to her spine. Every time someone comes into the room, he wants answers. He's…looking for someone to tell him it's okay. She's comfortable. They have her on pain meds for her broken arm and some bruising too."

  The back of her hand comes up to her eyes as she wipes at the wetness forming there.

  "How about you go outside and get some air," I convey. "I'll get numbskull to chill."

  Scarlett gives me a weak grin. She's beautiful, which brings out the older brother tendencies of her dating life and if someone has broken her heart yet. That I have been MI-fucking-A from most of her entire existence.

  The parts where shit gets harder. Where life is a cunt and throws curve balls. When maybe she would’ve needed me at some point.

  "Good luck," she replies, then takes a deep inhale. "I'll be back in five."

  I force a weak tug of my lips. It automatically feels foreign. "Sounds good."

  My baby sister breaks away and slowly strides down the hall. A few nurses stop her with sympathetic looks, but she quickly dismisses them with a few quick words before disappearing around the corner.

  Which leaves me alone with this.

  Gripping the metal handle, I ease open the door to be greeted by the standard and unnerving sounds of hospitals in general. A bathroom sits to my right as I continue to ease in, my body stiffening again and on edge.

  A niece that I've never met before. A brother who I barely know or how he operates with such intense things awaits me a few more steps in as the heavy guilt I've been holding begins to consume me alive.

  Maybe I could've prevented this from happening somehow. Maybe with me, they'd be safer. Yet, maybe with me, they'd be so much worse.

  Inside the room, a lean body hunches over a chair, elbow resting on his knees as he bounces the balls of his shoes.

  Hardy.

  And in front of him lies a sweet little girl with curly brown hair and pudgy cheeks. Small tubes run up her tiny nostrils along with an IV in her arm and wires hooked up every-fucking-where.

  Her head is wrapped in white gauze, alluding to the head injury that the nurse earlier spoke up about and the hot pink cast to her right arm.

  My chest tightens as I ball my hands into fists to keep my composure. It's been a long time, but the role of being the eldest is still embedded in my brain. I can take care of them—emotionally and physically—but do they want me to?

  "She's beautiful," I utter out loud through my thoughts and to the room. Hardy's neck jerks upward, snapping to me as quickly as he rises.

  The chair knocks into the wall while his eyes lock on me, brows furrowed and instantly pissed, before they soften in recognition.

  And—shit, it's like looking in a mirror.

  Only an inch or two shorter, smaller in stature but the same vibrant blue eyes, less facial hair, and I think a matching smile if I did that much, my brother is my twin with a four-year age gap.

  Hardy doesn't hesitate closing the distance between us like our sister did to embrace me in a hug with his good arm. The other is wrapped in a sling as he holds me like we've done this a million times before.

  He's smart, too, because when I don't return it, he chuckles lightly and begins to back off.

  "Not a big hugger, huh?" His voice comes off as a pained tease, but he releases me and takes a step back to look me over. "No biggie, I can respect space."

  I nod, feeling uncomfortable because I feel responsible for not sticking around to make sure he didn't get in trouble. He didn't—thank fuck—however, it would've been nice for me to find out for myself.

  He’s not like me; I like that.

  He can smile easily and tease. If we weren’t separated, maybe he would’ve rubbed off on me.

  "What are you doing here? Don't you live like a few hours away?"

  "Shouldn't I be?” I counter. “Scarlett called."

  He bobs his head and gives me another look. "Yeah…you should. It's good to see you—" He shoves his hand into the pocket of his gray Adidas sweatshirt, but I notice his body begins to shake a little. "—it's…been a long time."

  "Yeah, it has."

  Hardy bows his head, the worry he's feeling not hidden from his lightly peppered face.

  He was always a good kid, the class clown, while I was the one that took out the clowns that fucked around with me or my kid brother and sister. He didn’t like school much, but he knew how important I believed it was, so he did his best.

  "Aren't you supposed to be restrained?" I jerk my jaw at his free hands, and my brother's lips curl wide before pulling out a small flat-head screwdriver from the pocket of his sweatshirt. "Scarlett is good at finding things."

  I shake my head, amused and realizing these two are not what I expected.

  Fucking Christ, it's been over two decades and they still grew up with my determination and smartass antics.

  "Wanna sit down?" He offers me his chair with his hand and I shake my head.

  "Nah, but you can for me."

  My brother nods, taking a seat and exhaling a heavy breath. It's only seconds later that he mutters, "I'm so fucked."

  I frown, not sure what he's referring to exactly, but I can imagine it being his young daughter.

  So I ignore the comment, filing it away to come back to it later. "I made Scarlett get some air. We gotta talk."

  Hardy raises his chin and hits me with a little touch of my scowl. "I'm not leaving my little girl alone. We can talk here."

  "You need some—"

  "I need—" His tone is stern, but then he swiftly softens it. "—I need to just be here."

  "Alright." I steal a glance at the little girl when the door behind me opens, drawing my focus to a lanky cop in a blue uniform with a pair of handcuffs in his hands.

  "Excuse me, are you Mr. Hardy Bishop?"

  My brow lifts. "For?"

  He shifts his buck twenty of weight. "There has been some destruction of hospital property." His ballsy focus trails down the length of me. "Are you him?"

  I notice no badge on his chest and the large flashlight that hangs from his belt where a gun would reside. "I don't know—" I shrug, pinning him to the doorway with my glare. "—wanna come in here and search me, rent-a-cop?"

  He frowns, his dirty blonde hair ruffled like he was just woken up from a nap to do this shit. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to—"

  "Come in."

  He hesitates, opening the door wider like he's going to do something but doesn't bother to take another step inside. Weighing out his chances of trying to pull me out of the room is starting to dawn on his face before he straightens his spine with confidence due to the distance between us.

  "Can you please keep it down, sir? We can't have outbursts and—"

  "Thanks for checking in."

  He grounds his jaw but takes my dismissive cue and closes the door softly behind him. Pivoting, I find my brother looking up at me with raised brows.

  "You have a lot of run-ins with the cops?"

  I snort silently through my nose. "That was no cop. Security guard."

  Hardy's lips attempt to smile, but he falls short. "Yeah…I…kinda lost my shit."

  "Kinda?" I cross my arms along my chest and lean against the corner of the wall. "You're scaring the shit out of Scarlett."

  "I've been an asshole to Scarlett." He looks over at his daughter. "I just…I can't do this. She deserves
—shit, man, her mother is gone. What the hell do I tell her? How do I explain this to a five-year-old? What if—"

  "What did the doctors say?"

  Hardy begins to rub at his temple. "They have her on medication to bring the swelling in her brain down. She has bruising, obviously a broken arm. They'll be watching her for the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours."

  "Her mother was driving?"

  "Yeah, was hit by a bunch of teenage boys fucking around. She...called before she died. Told me where she was, that's how I knew where to find them. Almost sent their car over—" He stops, his body beginning to shake again. "We broke up after Maddy turned two, but we co-parented well together. She and I just didn't work out. It was mutual."

  "We'll get her out of the hospital and take her home," I tell him as he settles himself down. "Shit's going to be fine as long as you don't break half the place on your way out."

  My brother remains silent, alluding to more thoughts sprinting through his head.

  My eyes fall back onto the little bundle of curls, sleeping peacefully without a care in the world. That doesn't know she'll never see her mother again.

  "Madelyn, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "You staying in my shitty trailer when she visits?" Hardy squints his nose. He stays there most of the time, from my understanding, saving money up to buy a house.

  "Nah, we stay in a nice hotel, and she gets to swim in the pool. We order room service and watch Disney movies. She enjoys it."

  "You guys can stay at my house, it's outside of Pittsburgh. She'll have her own room."

  "Don't you…I'm not looking to intrude, man. It's—"

  "It's like the trailer," I retort. "I'm barely there."

  And she's not staying in that fucking nightmare of a shithole.

  "But, I—"

  "Listen, I know we don't have the strongest relationship, you barely fucking know me. I’m a dick, and I work a lot but know that I'm not one to argue. Just agree.” I fix him with an already exasperated look. "Cool?"

  Hardy nods. "Yeah, man…cool. Thanks."

  "Don't mention it." My cell buzzes in my back pocket, and out of habit, I pull it out while Hardy steers back to his daughter.