Free Getting Mine: A Stepbrother Romance by Adair Rymer Page B

Hugh?”
    “Beg your pardon?” The nurse was taken aback by Arsen's directness.
    “Pamela Dawson's husband.”
    “Oh, Mr. Dawson arrived shortly after she was brought in. He signed some paperwork, but didn't stay long.” An alarm in another room forced the nurse away before Arsen could ask her any more questions.
    Arsen was livid, his knuckles flexed like he was just aching to hit something.
    I called my father again, he still wasn't answering. From what he told me earlier, Pamela was being driven to a restaurant to meet him when she was run off the road by some 'crazy man'. There feels like there's more to this story, but I never know with him. He's an actor after all, and a frustratingly good one.
    “It's going to be alright.” I told Arsen. I moved to touch his hand and then caught myself. There might be people watching.
    He was lost in thought, but I had no idea what he was thinking. Seeing the pain in Arsen's face made me feel ashamed. I wanted to touch him, to hug and kiss him and tell him not to worry, but the nagging realization that we were back in public stopped me. There was a fine line between consoling a sibling and a lovers embrace.
    I guess my father had taught me well.
    That thought was immediately followed by a wave of nausea. Even in the wake of tragedy, I couldn't shake worrying about my public image.
    Arsen just frowned and pulled away. He wasn't the type of person who asked for, or allowed any emotional or physical help. He folded his arms and walked back into his mother's room. I stayed in the hallway and watched him go, feeling heavy and horrible.
    Now that I was back in the real world, I was paralyzed by the thought that someone might be watching or photographing me. I couldn't help it. Throughout the entirety of my whole life, my father drilled one concept into my head.
    'You are whatever the public says you are. And as an actor, you live with the shadow of scandal looming over you at all times. Valentine, you are only one mistake away from ridicule, then obscurity.' Hearing my father's voice in my head made me shiver with anger.
    My phone mercifully lit up with a message from my friend, Marcy. She'd arrived at the hospital with some dry clothes for us. We were in such a rush earlier that Arsen hadn't stopped for a change of clothes. We were both still damp from the Jacuzzi.
    Marcy was flirting with the security guard when I finally found her. She flipped back, and twirled a strand of her luscious dark brown hair, laughing. It wasn't even dawn yet and Marcy looked amazing. Strapless dress, flawless makeup and hair, I could never tell if she was going to a party or coming from one. I guess it didn't matter, she always looked perfect. She gave the absolutely smitten security guard a final wink and sauntered over to me.
    I'd known Marcy since high school, although she didn't actually go to my school. She toyed at the idea of becoming an actor, but decided to go the modeling route instead. Modeling fit her showy personality really well, she wore the lifestyle like a sexy bikini.
    “Oh, my dear, Valentin-a!” Marcy hugged me, worry marred her immaculate face. I rolled my eyes at the horrible nickname she made for me ages ago, but she was really helping me out so didn't want to scold her for it. “You look simply atrocious.”
    I was insulted, but she was right. I felt like an absolute mess. I was still in my waterlogged dress from the party I’d gone to. My hair was flattened, frizzy, and pulled back. I wasn't even wearing underwear anymore, which, although I was still covered, made me feel super exposed.
    “Thanks, Marcy,” I said, dryly. I took a breath, letting my annoyance drain away, then smiled at her. It was nice of her to interrupt her, probably fabulous, plans to come to the hospital for me. “You're a lifesaver.”
    “Of course! Is your stepmom ok? It's all over the news.”
    “She'll be alright, she just needs to rest.
    “Ok, so, here's the clothes for you.” Marcy handed me a