Crew

I stand in the exam room with my hands in the pockets of my pants staring at the frail man on the stretcher. He's hooked up to machines that monitor his heart, oxygen is being pumped into his nose, and his gray eyes look sunken and cloudy.

"You came," he whispers when he finally notices me standing at the foot of the stretcher.

I came as soon as my sister, Lark, called me. I was having dinner by myself at an Italian place a block from my apartment. I was staring at my phone. The temptation to call Bill was pressing.

I've held off asking him where he took Adley the other day when he picked her up outside her apartment. I wanted to know tonight, but just as I was about to make the call, Lark called me in a panic.

I paid the check, walked out of the restaurant and hailed the first taxi I saw to bring me here.

"You knew I would," I answer quietly. "I'm always there if someone from the family needs me."

It's the truth. Even when my asshole of a younger brother is in need, I'm there for him. I have been there for all of them since day one. I will always be there for them.

"I might not make it this time."

He's right. The doctor who first examined him told us as much. His heart is failing. He's already lived through a minor heart attack. This one is a tsunami compared to that one.

He was in his office, heading a meeting when he collapsed face first on the boardroom table. It's a fitting slice of irony.

The man who will push anyone aside to make a dollar, falls victim to his greed and the stress that comes with it.

"You have a great doctor, dad."

I test the water, but the shark, even in his weakened state, strikes.

"Sir."

I bark out a laugh. It stopped hurting years ago, long after the first subtle correction at the dinner table when I was an innocent kid, excitedly telling his parents about a science award.

"Call me sir, Crew. That's what I want all my boys to do."

He has three boys, yet only two are allowed to call him dad; the two who were born with his blood running through their veins.

He's dad to Lark as well, but never to me. Not in any significant way.

I say what I've always wanted to say to him because for him there may not be a sunrise tomorrow. "I forgive you."

"For what?" Both his graying brows rise. "Forgive me for what? I gave you a better life than anyone else could have."

In his eyes he has.

I was adopted because my birth mother, a single French woman, couldn't handle me.

I was a troublemaker she'd tell my father every day when she showed up to work for him as his secretary twenty-six years ago. Until one day when she didn't show up at all.

She gave me up that day. I was three-years-old.

Foster care was my home until my mother, Pauline Benton, convinced her husband, Eli, to take me in. They ran through the process to become my foster parents, and eventually my adoptive parents when my birth mother's rights were willfully terminated because she left me without so much as a glance back.

Her family back in Paris wanted nothing to do with her, or me.

I began this life as Jordan Fournier.

I live my life as Crew Benton.

"For everything," I answer his question.

"If I ever raised a hand to you..." He stops to hold his hand against his chest, his face twisting in pain. "I did my best with you. You were never like your brothers. You were always getting in trouble."

I was a typical child who tested the limits and explored without any thought to consequence. The biggest crime in his eyes is that I'm a Benton by default, not by design.

"I'm going to grant your dying wish." I walk to the side of the bed and stand over him.

He stares up at my face. There's not an ounce of tenderness in his eyes. That's reserved for his grandchildren and his children. It's never been directed at me.

"The company? You'll sign your shares over to me?"

I laugh because he's about to endure a surgery he may not survive. "To Lark."

His brow furrows and his hand presses harder against his chest. "She works at Matiz. She knows nothing about what we do at Benton. She already has enough shares. If you give her yours and I die, she'll have controlling interest."
"As it should be. She's more equipped to run that ship than anyone else." I lean down and kiss his forehead. "You've been a bastard to me, old man. You should have given me a chance because I loved you. All I wanted was to be loved back."

Before he can respond, I stalk across the room to the curtain that separates the exam room from the corridor and I leave behind the man who took more from me than he ever gave.