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As the oldest of three siblings, Sam Stevenson witnessed plenty of atrocities. On top of that, he had spent the last eleven years as a registered nurse in a busy downtown city hospital. It took a lot to fluster him.
At the moment, the churning in Sam’s stomach had nothing to do with the gruesome evening unfolding before him. Nor was it hunger, though it had been at least six hours since he’d taken the time to eat. What sent the shock of nerves down his spine and threatened to cause complete gastrointestinal upheaval was the thought of Sawyer and Carmen’s wedding rehearsal. It was happening right at that moment, and Sam was supposed to be in attendance. As eldest brother and best man, he was required to be in attendance. Sawyer had yet to lift the best man probation he placed on Sam for missing his bachelor party, and here Sam was, about to screw up once more.
Sam heaved a sigh, then instantly regretted the deep intake of breath when the onslaught of odours hit him full force. In the thick of summer, Sam stood in the hospital’s Emergency Room. Everywhere he looked, there were lawn mower mishaps, cases of alcohol poisoning, and campers who had sought treatment for their various illnesses before showering. The plethora of scents was staggering.
“Stevenson!”
Sam winced at the crack of the doctor’s voice and turned, holding his clipboard against his chest like a shield.
“Go on, get in there. It’s not getting prettier the longer you stare. Surfer boy is next. I’m going to go out on a limb and say you should prepare for gastric lavage.” She gave Sam a smile that was more a canine baring of teeth than a display of joviality. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Sam said dryly. “I’m on it.” Drawing a shallow, guarded breath, Sam braced himself and waded into the room, ignoring the barrage of questions hurled at him from the people seated there.
One woman snatched at his sleeve. An angry rash covered the left side of her face and neck. “How much longer? I’ve been sitting here for two hours!”
“Hey! I got here long before you did, lady!” another voice cut in from a row behind her.
Sam forced a smile. “We are doing the best we can, ma’am. I am sure it won’t be long now.” He freed his sleeve from her clutches with a tug and strode toward the muscular lump sprawled across two seats.
As it turned out, Surfer boy was uninclined to wait for the stomach pump. The shift from lying across the plastic chairs to an upright position proved too much for his abused guts. The evidence of the man’s excess squelched between Sam’s toes with each step as he made his way to the next patient.
“Sammy, what the hell are you still doing here?” barked a sharp voice behind him.
Sam spun, narrowly missing a paramedic headed in the opposite direction. “Triage. My job, so on and so on.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be out of here two hours ago?” Sam’s friend and fellow nurse Deena bustled down the hall toward him. With a squeak of white shoe leather, she nimbly dodged the same paramedic and advanced on Sam.
“I know, but—”
“Go!” Deena flapped her hands at him as though she were shooing a barnyard animal out of her garden. “It’s your brother’s wedding. Believe it or not, this place won’t fall into a smoldering heap the second you leave the premises.”
Relief flooded through Sam with enough potency that he ignored her sarcasm. “Deena! I could kiss you.”
Deena came two steps closer before her features pinched tight in horror. She backed away, shaking her head. “Normally, that’s an offer I couldn’t refuse, but today, Stevenson, you smell like absolute shit.”
“A gift from the other end of the digestive tract,” Sam muttered. “You may be looking at a lot of overtime in the future, Deena, since my brother is going to kill me for being late tonight.”
“Then get out of here! Seriously.” She propped her fists on her generous hips and glowered at him. “I’m too old to work more than I already do.”
Lacking the words to express his gratitude, Sam sidled up and sneaked a kiss onto her cheek before she could push him away. Then he broke into a run, headed straight for the elevator.
There was no time to shower. Sam snatched his wallet and keys from his locker, then paused, staring down at his feet. Muttering an oath, he sat and pulled off the wet shoes and socks, tossing the entire mess into the nearest trash can.
Barefoot, he sprinted down the hall to the parking level. Fumbling his keys out of his pocket, Sam glanced at his cell. Ten missed calls from his brother, five texts from his sister Sasha, each with more exclamation marks than the last, and two voicemails from his father. Sam threw the phone on to the dash without looking at any of them. He knew all too well what they were going to say, and nothing would save him now. All he could do was get to Willow Brook before one of his family members had a rage-induced aneurism.
***
Every head in the room swiveled to stare as Sam pushed through a set of double doors and into the hotel’s brightly lit dining room. His stomach clenched as tight as a fist, and sweat prickled across his brow. Doing his best to avoid eye contact, Sam strode to the front of the room, nodding and muttering a hello to any guest he recognized.
Like a criminal going to his execution, Sam stepped onto the elevated stage. The bridal party stared at him from behind their empty dinner plates and wine glasses with a chill in their eyes. To Sawyer’s left, one chair sat ostentatiously in its emptiness. Guilt bloomed anew through Sam’s chest. His little brother tracked Sam’s approach from across the room, his blond brows contracting into a scowl so dark he could only have learned it from their father.
“I’m sorry. I know.” Sam held his hands up as he shuffled to his seat. “There was a boating accident. Emergency was a shit sho—What?”
“Sam, are you all right?” Carmen, Sawyer’s fiancée and the duo member least likely to murder him, craned her neck to see Sam around her bulky husband-to-be. Her green eyes creased with concern at the sight of his disheveled appearance.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
“There’s blood on your face,” Sawyer said, giving his brother a cursory glance as Sam settled into his chair. The steel in his tone indicated he was contemplating adding more.
“And you reek,” Sam and Sawyer’s cousin, Noah, added, inching his chair back as Sam drew near.
“I wanted to get here as soon as possible.”
“A fact made obvious by your timely arrival and your unique style of dress.” Sasha eyed Sam from down the long table. “Scrubs and sandals? Tres chic, brother dear.”
When Sam frowned down the length of the table, she blew him a kiss.
“Deodorant takes like, what, ten seconds to apply?” Noah wrinkled his nose, blue eyes twinkling. “Just saying.” He was enjoying Sam’s torture, the bastard.
“It’s not me,” Sam muttered, his face ready to combust. “Well, I mean it is, but some drunk jerk puked on my shoes. I took those off, at least.”
“Hey, cut it out!”
Sam’s heart kicked up a familiar tempo against the confines of his ribs. Charlotte Baker had been a part of the Stevenson clan for as long as most of them could remember. She had taken Carmen under her wing the moment Carmen arrived in town. Sam could feel Charlotte’s familiar energy burning through his shirt as she came up behind him.
“You lot can screw off anytime. None of you spent your morning saving lives.” Charlotte came from across the stage area and stopped, her hands on her hips. “I, for one, am glad you are here safe and sound, Sam.”
Throwing her arms around his neck, Charlotte hugged him. Sam thought she sucked in a breath and held it before she descended. He didn’t care. The sensation of her arms around him was too good.
To Sam’s right, Noah was kind enough to look chastised before he mumbled an apology. Sam hardly heard him and didn’t care, anyway. All that mattered was losing himself in the floral scent of Charlotte’s hair. For a second, he allowed himself to lean into her body and soak in the unique radiance that was Charlotte.
“So, what did I miss?” Sam asked once Charlotte released him.
“Everything,” Sawyer grumbled. He punched his older brother in the arm before granting him a reluctant half-smile. “You are going to shower before tomorrow, right?”