Scrubbed Read online
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.
© 2020 KB WORLDS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
Published by KB Worlds LLC.
Cover Design by: Rebecca Pau, The Final Wrap
Formatting by: Elaine York, Allusion Publishing
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Epilogue
Want More?
Acknowledgements
Connect with DC Renee
About DC Renee
Also Written by K. Bromberg
Dear Reader,
Welcome to the Everyday Heroes World!
I’m so excited you’ve picked up this book! Scrubbed is a book based on the world I created in my USA Today bestselling Everyday Heroes Series. While I may be finished writing this series (for now), various authors have signed on to keep them going. They will be bringing you all-new stories in the world you know while allowing you to revisit the characters you love.
This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I allowed them to use the world I created and may have assisted in some of the plotting, I took no part in the writing or editing of the story. All praise can be directed their way.
I truly hope you enjoy Scrubbed. If you’re interested in finding more authors who have written in the KB Worlds, you can visit www.kbworlds.com.
Thank you for supporting the writers in this project and me.
Happy Reading,
K. Bromberg
The pain of losing you never fades, the memories never go away, and the love never dies, Babulya.
We miss you and love you, Deda & Babushka.
We didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye, but you’re never far from our hearts, t.Olya.
An angel taken too soon, Janett Gomez.
Hadley
HEADS TURNED AS Grayson Malone strode toward the elevator, some pretending to be looking at anything interesting in his direction—the fake plant, the painting they’d stared at a million times before, or even the dang wall—while others didn’t bother to hide their gawking. I fell into the former category, having had enough wherewithal to at least feign some tact. My, that wallpaper sure was nice.
He’d been visiting Sidney, of course. Everyone knew her family owned the magazine, but don’t be fooled because she had earned her spot at the top. She’d worked under Rissa, kicking butt and getting our sales numbers back up, but when she’d been offered her dream job at Haute, she turned it down for Grayson. Could you blame her? He was all muscles, hard angles, abs for days, and that butt. Mmm. When he walked toward those elevators, let’s just say women checked out the front and the back.
Rissa ended up taking the job at Haute, and Sidney stepped into the editor-in-chief role at Modern Family. Aside from the fact she was a truly valuable asset to the company, we saw some great eye candy whenever Grayson visited her.
“Alright, everyone, time for the next contest,” Sidney said as soon as we’d all picked our jaws up from off the floor and made it into the conference room.
That was how Sidney-Grayson—how us mere mortals at Modern Family referred to them—had started. She’d been brought on to help raise Modern Family’s sales numbers, and her idea was a Hot Dad contest. There was a prize, of course, as an incentive, but also, the readers got involved, and the next thing you know, the contest was a hit. Long story short, Grayson was in the contest, and Sidney was running it. Add in some drama and angst, and bam, love story turned real life. Born was Sidney-Grayson.
Also born was the tradition to run contests since the readers absolutely loved it.
We’d had two since then, but our last just finished, so it was time for another contest.
“Don’t all talk at once,” she said wryly after no one said anything.
“How about best fashion for men?” Carrie said.
“And how would that work?” Sidney countered.
“Readers can vote on the best-dressed men. Maybe each round can be an occasion. Like best dressed for a first date, then best dressed for a cocktail party. We can do three categories maybe, like best-dressed male, best-dressed female, best-dressed couple.”
“Not bad,” Sidney said with a nod, and several of us nodded in agreement. “Since it’s Modern Family, though, will our readers want a family category too? And if so, that might be too difficult to keep fair if someone has older kids versus younger or boys versus girls or one child versus six.”
“How do they find time to keep having kids when there are six?” asked Mark.
“Not sure, but I can sense a good article coming from that question,” Sidney mused. “Mark, you’re on it.”
I felt only marginally bad for Mark. He was a nice guy, but he’d walked right into that one. “Okay, let’s keep thinking about this best dressed idea,” Sidney said, bringing us back on topic. She’d made several valid points, hence the reason she was head of our magazine and how I knew I wanted to work under her the minute I had the opportunity. I’d been at the bar when they’d announced the Hot Dad winner, and we saw Sidney and Grayson become Sidney-Grayson. I was a low-level journalist at a local newspaper at the time who wanted to switch things up a bit while remaining in the overall field. I just didn’t know where or how I wanted to do that. While I was there at that winner-announcing party, I realized two things. The first was that Sidney was a genius. I wanted to learn from her, so I got my butt in gear after that, spruced up my resume, and started applying for positions. When one happened to open at Modern Family, lo and behold, I got the job, and I’ve been learning from her ever since. The second was that one day, I wanted a love like Sidney and Grayson had.
“Everyday heroes,” I blurted out, my jaunt down memory lane shaping into an idea.
Grayson Malone was just one of a trifecta of perfect male specimens. His two brothers were just as smoking hot as he was. But guess what? That wasn’t even the best part of the Malone brothers. They were all freaking heroes. Yep, you read that right. Grant was a cop, Grady was a firefighter, and Grayson was an emergency helicopter pilot. Could they get any more perfect? They were the epitome of a family of everyd
ay heroes.
“I’m not following, Hadley,” Sidney said.
“It’s like a nod to Grayson since he was a part of the first contest. Or rather, to the whole Malone family. They’re heroes in their own right. Everyday heroes, if you will.” I saw her nodding ever so slightly, encouraging me to continue. “We can have people submit stories of their everyday heroes. It can be an actual heroic story or someone who’s just a good role model. It allows people to recognize others and gives them a platform to say thanks. And people love a good hero, right?”
The room was silent for a minute, and I held my breath in anticipation.
“I like it,” Sidney said, beaming. “Everyday heroes, huh?” she said with a smirk. “I can’t wait to tell Grayson and his brothers what you called them. But I like it, and I think the readers will eat these stories up. We need to figure out the logistics, of course. Write up your thoughts, shoot them my way, and we can figure it out. Good job, Hadley.”
The meeting moved on to the other agenda items, but I couldn’t focus. I was on a high. Praise from my own hero made me feel like I was the winner. Now I just had to prove to Sidney my idea was worth her praise.
Hadley
“WHO’S ON MY list today?” I asked, plopping down on the chair beside Alice. Currently, five of us were vetting through the entries and performing interviews. After our staff meeting about a month prior, I’d written up my suggestions for the contest and sent them to Sidney, and within a day, I’d had a one-on-one meeting with her on my calendar.
“I think I’m going to go with option B,” she’d told me. I’d given her multiple scenarios, such as just heroic acts, just role models, a combo of the two, and a few others, along with suggested guidelines.
She went with a combination. “I think our readers have a lot of ideas of what makes a hero, and I want them all to be heard,” she’d told me.
“I agree. That’s the one I was leaning toward as well,” I responded. She smiled in response, and I felt like I’d just gotten an A on a test.
“Great, okay, let’s go with this. I’ll send you a few changes to the guidelines, and then you’re in charge,” she announced as though it wasn’t a big deal. Let me tell you. It was a big deal.
“Me?” I asked or more like squeaked out.
“Of course. It’s your idea. Who better than you? Run with it.”
“Oh, uh, okay. Thank you. Thank you,” I repeated. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know, Hadley. You’ll do great.”
Her belief in me was enough to up my own confidence.
I posted the contest, the rules, and all the other details online, as well as printed it in the magazine. The general rules were simple. Our readership submitted who they thought was a hero by their own definition. So far, they ranged from people who had done physical acts, such as rescuing people, a lot from the military or police force, all the way to a few entries clearly written by little kids about their parents or older siblings. Those were absolutely adorable, complete with misspellings and stick figures. We were one hundred percent going to post copies of those entries online. We’d actually had more participants in this contest than any other. The kicker? Some of the stories, we’d sadly found, were fake. So that was where the five of us came in. If they were acts of heroism, we researched them online first, but ultimately, we interviewed every “hero.” If they were too far, we called and asked them questions, then used our intuitions to determine if the stories were true. If they were close by, we visited so we could see them face-to-face and verify the authenticity of the stories.
Staring at my stack of the day, I sighed. It was not that I wasn’t happy. I was. It was just that I was a bit overwhelmed. I took a minute to read through them before putting them into two piles—the calls versus the in-person visits.
“Okay, I’m off. Be back in a few hours,” I told the rest of the gang after I’d written down the addresses of where to find the people I would visit.
“First up, Noah,” I said out loud after I sat down in my car. I read through his story once more, jotting down a few questions in my notebook before taking off.
His story had been submitted by his mother-in-law or, rather, ex-mother-in-law. You’d think those two wouldn’t go, right? Who in their right mind would submit a hero story about their former son-in-law? I actually teared up a bit when I read her entry.
You hear stories about terrible in-laws and families not getting along. That’s not us. When my Tracy was fortunate enough to find Noah, we instantly loved him, and I’d like to think he loved us too. At least, he was kind enough to fake it if he didn’t. He was a good man. Still is. Noah is an oncology doctor, but he’s not just a doctor. He invests himself with every patient of his, making them feel like they are his only patient. He’s kind, he’s there for others, and most importantly, he saves lives. Sadly, because of the nature of his job, he can’t save every life. But he does his best. I’ll let you in on a little secret. He doesn’t know I’m submitting him, and he’ll hate it very much. So why am I doing it? Almost two years ago, we lost our Tracy. I won’t go into too many details about that, just the ones that matter. Cancer. It was damn cancer that took her from us. And that didn’t just destroy Noah; it annihilated him. He, after all, was an oncologist, and he couldn’t save his wife from the very thing he treated on a daily basis. He was a shell of himself for a bit, and I didn’t blame him. I, myself, was a living zombie. Parents are not supposed to bury their children, but I did. And I grieved, and I continue to grieve every day. Noah does too. He picked himself back up and went back to his patients, but he feels like a failure. He doesn’t see all the good he does, all the lives he has and continues to save. It’s not his fault Tracy is gone. It’s not mine either, but like him, I feel like I failed her by not saving her. Logical or not, I understand his emotions. The difference is, I have the opportunity now, for Tracy’s and for Noah’s sake, to help him understand he is a hero. My hopes are that he’ll see how the world sees him, and he’ll finally understand he’s a good man and deserves happiness once again.
The rest of the entry was the details about Noah and his mother-in-law, Amber.
I knew when he was supposed to be at home, and I had his home address to boot. “Thank you, Amber,” I said out loud as I made my way to his home, a small, beige one-story building with a green grass yard in front. It was picturesque from the outside, and somehow, without even meeting Noah, I knew it fit. And I was positive the inside would be cozy and clean.
I made my way to the door, ringing the doorbell and then stepping back before it flew open. I liked to pride myself on being a professional, but at that moment, there was nothing professional about my thoughts, and I was pretty sure my expression mirrored my inner workings.
Standing before me was absolute perfection.
Noah Shields was tall, sculpted like he was made by an artist, with dark jeans hanging low on his hips. A tight black shirt clung to what was clearly a perfect body with hard abs, arms crossed over his chest, showcasing them and those delicious veins. And let’s not forget his face. Sandy blond hair, green eyes that matched the very grass I’d just mentally commented on, and a jawline that belonged back in our Hot Dad contest, minus the dad part, of course. Or did it? Damn, I didn’t even know if he had kids, but I had a feeling he didn’t.
“Noah Shields?” I asked, finally finding my voice, hoping I didn’t sound too much like a fangirling teenager.
“Can I help you?” he asked instead of answering my question.
“I, uh, yes. My name is Hadley Snyder. I’m from Modern Family magazine, and I’m here to ask you some questions about being an everyday hero.”
“A what?” he asked. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No, it’s not,” I assured him. “Your mother-in-law entered you into our contest. The theme is everyday heroes, and she thought you fit the bill. Readers vote on who they think should move on to the next round, and the winner gets a prize, a party, and a feature in the magazine.”
“No,” he said.
“There’s a cash prize,” I said as if that would entice him.
“The answer is no, and I’m going to kill Amber,” he said, mumbling the last part.
“Noah, please. Just a few minutes of your time. I read your story, and you are a hero. I’m here to help you see that.” I realized that was the wrong choice of words the minute they were out, especially by the way the vein in his neck suddenly bulged, coupled with the clenching of his jaw, and a tinge of red to his face.
“Let me make this clear, Ms. Snyder. I am not a hero. Never have been, never will be. In fact, I’m the opposite. My meddling mother-in-law meant well, and I apologize that you had to waste your time. But the answer is and will remain no. I’m not interested. Thank you and goodbye.”
And with that, the door was closed in my face, my ego was bruised, and I knew with absolute certainty that Noah Shields was meant to be in this contest. And not just a part of this contest, he was meant to win. The only problem was how the heck to get him to agree to participate.
Noah
PEOPLE BECAME DOCTORS for many reasons. It could be family pressure, or it could be job stability, prestige, or as simple as wanting to help people. I’ll be honest and say, for me, it was a combination of them all.
Why’d I pick oncology? I wish I could give you a sweet and sad story about how I vowed to save as many people as I could after someone I knew passed away from cancer. But nope, that didn’t happen to me. I can’t even exactly tell you why I picked oncology. I just did.
Was it a good choice? Probably not.
I got to watch miracles happen every day. People with stage four cancer who weren’t supposed to live more than a few weeks would defy all odds and live for years. Those successes were the good days, the days that made what I did worthwhile. The flip side? I also saw too many people die after withering away from this crippling disease. I saw people go from young and vibrant to skeleton-like beings, their loved ones crying, broken, shattered.