"I'm your little brother," Jacob said a smirk spreading across his face for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
"Yep, you're three minutes younger, and you've spent the last thirty fucking years trying to prove it to everyone," Damien said, a hint of old dry humour returning. A real chuckle escaped Jacob's lips this time, not the hollow, bitter sound from earlier, but something warm and real.
"I knew you could do more, and you did," Damien continued, his gaze turning serious, lacking its usual sarcasm. "You never needed me. You succeeded without me. You ran the office in New York alone."
Jacob shifted uncomfortably, unused to such direct praise from his brother. "That's because I have great people working with me," he mumbled, trying to deflect the compliment.
"Jacob, listen to me," Damien insisted, his voice firm but gentle. "The fact that you know how to surround yourself with so many talented and efficient people says a fuck of a lot about you. Please, give yourself some damn credit."
He took a breath, and the next words felt like they were being pulled from a deep, guarded place. "I'm not the role model you think you need. You're a great leader, and I have a lot to learn from you."
"Fuck, you're going to make me cry," Jacob said, his voice thick with emotion. He practically launched himself at his brother, wrapping his arms around him in a tight, heartfelt hug.
For a second, Damien was stiff, unused to such unrestrained affection from him. Then, a small smile touched his lips, and he hugged him back.
"I'm so fucking relieved now that you've forgiven me," Jacob said, his voice muffled against his brother's shoulder before he pulled away. "It's like a weight was lifted off my chest."
"I think the doctor is coming," Damien said, his voice suddenly low and urgent, nodding down the hall. The fragile moment of peace was broken, pulling them both back to the harsh reality.
"What? What do you mean?" Jacob exclaimed after listening to the doctor's initial explanation, his voice cracking on the words.
"Settle down, Jacob, let the man continue," Damien said, his voice a low, steady rumble. He put a firm hand on his brother's chest, a physical anchor in the storm of Jacob's panic.
The doctor waited a beat, letting the tension subside slightly before continuing. "As I was saying, Ms. Isabella Williams sustained a leg fracture and a few broken ribs, of which she will recover from fully."
A flicker of relief passed between the brothers, a brief, fragile hope. "However," the doctor continued, and the word landed like a bomb, "Ms. Williams went into cardiac arrest and was declared clinically dead for a short time before responding to CPR."
The world tilted on its axis. Jacob felt the air leave his lungs, the doctor's words echoing in the sudden, roaring silence of his mind. Clinically dead.
"Tests show that her brain function was not impaired long enough for there to be any damage," the doctor explained, his tone maddeningly calm.
"What? Clinically dead?" Jacob asked, his voice a panicked whisper, as if saying the words aloud might make them less real. The doctor just nodded.
"There's more," the doctor went on, oblivious to the strong shockwaves he was creating. "She regained consciousness during the CPR. That was considered an extremely rare phenomenon back then, but now, in our day, it happens more and more. She has been sedated to avoid collateral damage, but we need to keep an eye on her for a few days to see if all her other injuries will not present any problem." He took a pause, looking from one brother to the other to see if they were understanding. They weren't. They were just standing there, confused...Worried.
"The fractures will heal in six to eight weeks," the doctor continued, "She'll have a plaster cast for her leg fracture. She'll need lots of rest and will be walking on crutches, and she'll need physical therapy." He looked down at his clipboard, then back up at them. "Which one of you is the boyfriend again? I need to go over some details on how to help her."
The question hung in the air, absurd and impossible. Both brothers looked at each other, a long, awkward, loaded silence stretching between them. How the fuck was this doctor going to take the fact that she dated them both?
"She's waking up," Damien said, his voice a low, urgent whisper. He shot up from the chair beside Isabella's bed, his body tense, as if ready for a fight. They were in the ICU, a sterile white box filled with the rhythmic beeping of machines. Jacob was standing over her, looking down at her pale, bruised face, a lump forming in his throat. He felt as if he might fucking cry, right here, right now.
"What's happening? Am I in a hospital?" she asked, her voice a dry, hoarse whisper. Her eyes fluttered open, blinking against the harsh lighting, confusion clouding her gaze.
"You are.... don't you remember?" Jacob replied softly, reaching out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from her forehead, his hand trembling slightly.
"Why can't I move?" she asked, a flicker of panic in her eyes as she tried to shift and found herself pinned down by an invisible weight.
"No, please, sweetheart, stop trying to move," Jacob said, his voice gentle but firm.
"You have some broken bones," Damien said, his tone clinical, a stark contrast to the raw emotion in Jacob's voice. He was trying to be the strong one, the logical one, but the fear was there, a dark shadow in his eyes.
"What happened? The last thing I remember...." she was saying, her brow furrowed in concentration, when she stopped, her eyes widening in dawning horror.
"What's the last thing you remember?" Damien asked, leaning closer.
She took a deep, shaky breath. "Cole... he was.... Oh my god. Cole posted a picture of me with Damien, now everyone knows about it," she said, her voice rising with immediate panic. The physical pain was temporarily forgotten, replaced by the social and professional problem they are to face.
"Stop worrying about that, love," Damien said, his voice softening.
"Yeah, Emily told me about it, and she made him delete it anyway," Jacob added quickly. "You can't even tell exactly who it is in that picture, it could be me," he said with a knowing, slightly cheeky smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
"You'd never dress that way," she said, a weak smile touching her lips for the first time.
"Anyway, even if they know it's me, it's not important," Damien said, his voice firm and decisive. "Employees can date their managers now."
"Of course you changed the fucking policy," Jacob teased with a chuckle.
"For Isabella," Damien said, his gaze fixed on her, "I would move into a cave and never shave for the rest of my life if she asked me to."
Jacob chuckled, a real, warm sound. "Nice one, brother," he said, clapping a hand on Damien's shoulder. For a moment, they weren't rivals, just two brothers united in their love for the woman lying in the hospital bed.