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"We both are." Logan chuckled, but it was a humorless laugh. "I don't know what's the worst part of it all. That our father betrayed our mother the night before their wedding?—"
Jewell gasped. Logan nodded, his smile barely a curl of his lips.
"Didn't tell you that part, did he? Benjamin is four months older than me, which means Barbara and my mother were pregnant at the same time." Jewell closed her eyes, fighting the choking tightness in her throat as he continued. "So, what's worse…the initial betrayal or the fact that my father let Benjamin live with that tyrant of a man, knowing his own son was the object of Jon Roth's rage? I don't know…" He paused, his voice cracking and he looked down, sucking in a sharp breath before he looked up again. "I don't know if I can forgive him, at least not for a long time."
Jewell's initial reaction was to tell Logan that his father had done what he thought best, but she didn't believe it. Not for a moment. As far as she was concerned, Jon Roth was an abuser but Ben Prescott was a coward.
Benjamin kissed his sister's forehead and stood off the edge of the bed where he'd perched, squeezed her hand, and signed that he'd be right back. Jewell held her breath as he walked to where Abigail sat, never even glancing at either his mother or his…his father. He crouched down beside his sister and squeezed Abigail's hand. Abigail raised her head, her hair sliding back to reveal a tear-streaked face, and she smiled weakly. Benjamin leaned up and kissed her cheek before standing. Again, he didn't give his father the smallest glance before turning toward Jewell and Logan.
Some of the tension and strain had eased from his face when he reached them, and Jewell believed just seeing his sister—awake and alive—had relieved more of the pressure on him than anything else could have. Benjamin kissed her just in front of her left ear and tugged her hand from behind her to lace their fingers together before turning with slow deliberation to look Logan in the eyes. They were almost the same height, with Benjamin having no more than an inch on Logan.
Jewell held her breath again, waiting. Then Logan unfolded his arms and extended his hand to Benjamin. "Just so you know, I'm moving you to the top of my organ donor list." As he spoke, he made the sign for "brother", drawing the thumb of his "L" sign from his forehead, then bringing his hand down to the "L" sign of his other hand.
Benjamin chuckled and smiled. He gripped Logan's hand and hauled them together, their joined hands between their chests as they slapped each other's backs in a testosterone-driven show of affection that was about as close as either of them would get to an embrace.
* * *
Hours later, when everyone else had left, Benjamin sat beside his sister's bed watching her sleep. This felt so different from the last time, from every time, he'd sat beside her bed in the last few weeks. Today, he held hope that she might open her eyes at any moment…a reality that had just been a distant hope until now.
He dragged his chair closer to the edge of the bed, resting his arm on the mattress beside her to hold her hand. An IV needle bruised the back of her hand, taped to skin that had been left raw by the adding and removal of the adhesive too many times. Her nails had grown, her pink nail polish chipped and grown away from the cuticles. Benjamin stroked his fingertips over her knuckles and thin wrist. Her skin was warmer than when she'd been in the coma, with a comforting pink blush where she had once been ashen and pale.
Her hand turned in his touch, and she clasped his fingers in hers. Benjamin looked up and smiled when he saw her eyes open and the tired smile on her lips. "Hey," she said, her mouth barely moving with the word.
She was tired. The last day and a half had taken too much out of her. The police had been in and out three times that day, taking more details and an official statement from her. They'd informed the family that Jon Roth would be held with no bail until his trial because of the assault on Benjamin and Jewell during the night. The fact that Jon Roth wouldn't have a chance to get near Victoria eased some of the worries that had eaten at Benjamin from the time he found out his sister had woken up and named Jon the shooter.
"Hey," Benjamin parroted, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles. "How are you feeling?"
She blinked slowly. "Heavy. Like a sloth."
"Are you in any pain?"
She rolled her head on her pillow. "No. They've got me pretty well drugged up," she said with a feeble smile. "I don't feel much of anything."
He didn't sign, knowing that if he did, she'd probably try and she looked too tired to lift her arms. "You should go back to sleep. Rest and heal."
Victoria slipped her hand from his and laid her palm against his cheek. "Mom told me, Benjamin. She told me about Prescott…"
Cold dread hit his chest and he sat back, breaking the contact. In the course of a few hours, he'd gained a 'new' father, lost a tyrant, gained a brother and a sister from once just good friends…but he wondered if he'd lost a sister in the process. She tried to roll onto her side, reaching for his hand with both hers, and when he saw the pinch of pain on her face he immediately returned to his original position so she wouldn't have to reach. She touched his face again, stroking his cheek, and smiled with a shine of tears in her eyes.
"Don't you pull away from me, Benjamin. You have always been, are now, and forever will be my brother. Do you understand?" Tears ran from the corners of her eyes across her temples to her hairline. Benjamin swallowed, the sight of his sister's tears tearing at him. He brushed away the line of moisture and ignored the choking lump in his throat. "Half brother, whole brother, whatever you want to call it…it's all the same. You're my brother," she stressed, pressing her hand over her heart. "Please, please…" Her mouth twisted as she fought not to cry.
"Stop, Victoria. Don't cry."
She gave up on talking, raising her frail hands—IV and all—to sign with shaking fingers. "Please tell me I'm still your sister, not just half, but your sister?—"
He stopped her by folding her hands between his. "You have always been, and always will be my baby sister."
She pressed her lips together, her mouth twisting into a feeble smile, and nodded, tears running freely down her face. Benjamin kissed her knuckles, then rose off his chair to lean over her and kiss her cheeks and forehead. The salt of her tears was tangy on his lips.
It took her several more minutes, and several soaked tissues, to stop crying and calm down enough to relax back on the pillows and take a deep breath. With a heavy sigh that shuddered through her whole body, Victoria smiled genuinely and made one final swipe of her tissue across her cheek.
"Where's Jewell?"
"She went to make a phone call," he answered, then decided to switch to sign. "Her father called earlier, wanting to make sure you were okay. I'm sure she's filling them in on all the sordid details now."
"Does that bother you? That she's telling them?"
He knew it probably should, and at a time it probably would have, but it didn't. He knew asking Jewell not to share with her family would be to ask her to go against her very nature. As much as it was the way of the Roth—and, apparently, Prescott—family to deny and ignore, it was the way of the Kincaid family to share and support.
