Page 4 of The Prodigal Brother Returns

Taking a deep breath, she pointed at the standing brothers. “You two. Out. You—” she said to her patient, who’d somehow managed to almost sit up. The lines bracketing his mouth had deepened. His pain medicine was clearly not holding. “Lay back down,” she instructed quietly after Jonas let go of her arm. “Wait, let me help you.”

At Nathan’s bedside, she eased him back, then shot Jonas a stern look. She hadn’t broken her chops learning her nursing skills on a hospital medical floor and survived a humiliating divorce for nothing. “My children are in the living room. If you don’t mind, they’ll need a snack to hold them over until I’m finished here.”

Blake brushed past Malorie. “You don’t need me here,” he said to Jonas. “If it’s okay with you, ma’am, I’ll take care of the kids and get them settled in the guesthouse.”

For the first time since walking into the dining room turned into a makeshift recovery cubical, Malorie let herself look more closely at the man. He seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place his face.

“Thank you. I appreciate that, Mr. Lohmen.”

“Blake.”

“Okay, Blake.”

She turned back to her patient. “My name’s Malorie. Let’s get you more comfortable.” It was a slow process, but with the hospital bed slightly elevated, she eventually got him to lie back. “Better?”

“Yes.” He rolled his head toward her, his eyelids at half-mast. “Thank you. You can call me Nathan.” When he winked at her, Malorie hid her smile. It wouldn’t be the first time a patient flirted with her, nor would it be the last. “You won’t have to be here long. I’ll be up and around in no time.”

“We’ll see. I’m going to take your vitals, okay?”

“Uh-huh.” His dark eyes closed completely, but he continued to mutter. “He shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t belong—”

“How did you break your pelvis?” Given the contentious circumstance she’d walked into, Malorie wanted to make sure falling off a horse was the only reason for his accident.

“Duke went one way, and I went the other,” he said, his words fading into even breathing.

Exactly as the report had said. So that made the Lohmen brothers’ dysfunctional family dynamic none of her business. She didn’t want to get mixed up in all that. She’d had enough of family drama by the time her ex had changed continents.

He snorted softly, then whispered, “Have to make Blake leave.”

“Why?” she asked, hoping the answer would get Nathan’s worries off his mind and soothe him into a deeper sleep.

“He killed Dad’s truck—”

Brows arching, she gently patted his shoulder. “Go to sleep now.”

In comparison to his brothers, Nathan’s face was thin, with sharp angles and black heavy brows. His hair was coal black. Overall, he seemed too thin. Making a mental care plan, she decided getting him to eat would be her top priority after she got his pain under better control.

By the time she finished taking his vitals, had recorded them in the file on the small table next to the bed, and checked the time and amount of his last pain meds, he was out.

She straightened his covers, turned down the lighting, and then went to find Jonas to have a serious talk. Who nearly comes to blows with their seriously injured brother?

He was in the living room, a glass of whiskey in hand, staring out a large window overlooking green pastures dotted with horses and the occasional fir and pine tree.

“I think your brother is settled for the evening, but I’ll check on him again later and sit with him through the night.”

Jonas faced her. “No need. I’ll keep an eye on him tonight. You’ve had a long trip and will need your rest. Would you like a glass of wine?”

She shook her head. “I don’t drink when I’m on duty.” Actually, she rarely drank.

“As you’ve seen, my brother won’t be the easiest patient.” Jonas indicated that she take a seat in one of the brown leather armchairs flanking the fireplace. He joined her, sitting on the matching couch. “I’m sorry you walked into a family squabble.”

“That was more than a squabble, Mr. Lohmen.”

“Jonas, please.” With a heavy sigh, he pushed long, wavy hair off his forehead. “I’m sorry to say, my brothers have trouble getting along.”

It was none of her business, but—“Because... um... Blake... killed your father’s truck?”

“Is that what Nathan said?” Jonas took a sip of his whiskey. “It happened a long time ago. And, well, there’s been a lot of water under that bridge.”

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