“Your mother coming in your room was incredibly weird,” I say with a grin, trying to lighten the mood up a bit. I can’t pretend her words of affirmation aren’t packing a pleasurable punch to my gut.
She smiles, but her eyes are still locked on me with serious intent. “Seriously… you’re handling your issues. You’re a strong man. I can tell.”
“Haven’t felt that way in a long time,” I admit. What I don’t admit is she makes me feel strong.
“But I also feel compelled to make sure you understand,” she continues, “that if you ever wanted to talk about things with me, I’m there for you. I really like you, Benjamin, and I wasn’t expecting this to be anything. Yet, it’s turning into everything. You can be strong and still lean on someone. And I can still accept the weight of another’s problems without having to give up everything of myself. I think that’s something I just recently learned.”
Fuck if she’s not saying all the right things. Validating me without pressuring me. Comforting me without making me feel weak. Offering a new layer to our relationship that threatens to put me on the edge of jumping all the way in with her.
Am I ready for that?
Brandon seems to think so.
In addition to reconnecting with my family, Brandon and I have made strides the last two weeks. It started with an apology from me for canceling on a surgery and dropping off the face of the earth for a few days. I had to make sure he knew I was a reliable medical partner and put any doubts to rest.
He accepted the apology stiffly and without any real enthusiasm. And then, without any forethought or planning or even any real understanding until that moment that Brandon needed a different type of apology.
“I’m sorry for abandoning our friendship,” I’d told him, and I could have knocked him over with a feather in that moment. It was obvious by the expression on his face. “I put up walls, pushed those closest to me away, and as my best friend, that meant you. And I’m sorry for the hurt I’ve caused, and I’m thankful you’ve not booted me out on my ass yet.”
That started a discussion that eventually led down the path to Elena. As we spent precious moments reconnecting, he wanted to know about her. It was clear he credits her with my transformation.
And while we still had repairing to do, I didn’t mind sharing her with him.
Metaphorically, of course.
I admitted it had started out just as sex, but it had absolutely progressed to something else. Something more. Something I couldn’t quite define yet, but I knew was transformative.
This pleased Brandon a lot. He’s a happily married man, and he wants me to be happy as well. He equates happiness to a secure relationship. While I’ve experienced that before, and I agree with it, that’s still a little more than I was willing to consider at this point.
But there’s a reason he’s my best friend, and he proved it by narrowing in on something that must have been causing me some internal strife.
“April would want you to move on,” he’d said to me with certainty. “You know that, right?”
I just stared at him, for the first time considering what April would think. How had I not done so before? Is it because I’d so lost my belief in God and Heaven I didn’t even think April existed anymore?
But if she did… what would she want?
“She’d want you to have another shot at happiness,” Brandon had said quietly. “A shot at love. Kids. Everything. In fact, she’d be disappointed if you stopped living your best life.”
He was right.
He is right.
I know it with certainty. While we never discussed dying and what would happen after, I know April loved me and to love me would mean my happiness was paramount to her.
Just as I know had I predeceased her, I’d have wanted her to fall in love again. Make more babies. Grow old with someone devoted to her.
“I like you too,” is all I can manage to say to Elena. Words can barely express what I do feel for her, but they’re simple and truthful. They don’t compare with what she’s said to me and the way she’s validated me.
But I’ll try to get better at it.
All part of my journey to rediscover my life.
Smiling, she crooks her finger. “Why don’t you come over here and rub some oil on my back?”
Her tone is husky, inviting, and I know she wants me to rub other places as well.
That is something I can totally get on board with.
CHAPTER 26
Elena
When I glance at my watch, I’m satisfied I’m running a bit ahead of schedule. I took the afternoon off from work to go to a doctor’s appointment with my mom. She’s been suffering with some knee pain that’s gotten progressively worse, and they’re attempting an injection on her today.
Normally, my father would go with her, but he’s in Los Angeles on a business trip. None of my brothers can be counted on to step in, so I gladly volunteered.
I love my brothers, I really do. Five strong, smart, and capable men who don’t have a freaking clue on how to help with our parents as they get older. Granted, my mom has always been a bit of an enabler, rushing in to do everything for her boys.
Maybe I inherited a bit of that from her. Maybe I tend to do too much for the men in my life, and that turns them codependent on me. Maybe that makes me a magnet for a certain type of man.
But no… Benjamin isn’t like that at all. Despite the traumas he’s suffered, he’s yet to try to latch on to me as the fixer of his woes. I’ve learned he has a deep well of quiet strength he has been pulling from to drag himself out of the darkness. He is truly the strongest person I know. It makes him even more attractive to me, despite some of the fears that still hold him back just a tiny bit.
Yes, things are now moving a bit faster, yet I’m not scared by it. Benjamin is just so different—not just from any man I’ve known, but from any person. He’s the most self-aware person I’ve ever met. He knows his weaknesses and what draws out his worst, and, when asked, he’s utterly transparent about those things. He is never afraid to admit his failures or flaws.
At any rate, I completed my mission to take Mom to the doctor. Helped her home, put her leg up, and made her a late lunch. Left the remote control and a cup of tea near her, then jetted back out. I have to pick up a new prescription the orthopedic prescribed, then I’m off for a quick shopping trip for a new dress because tonight, things are advancing just a bit more between Benjamin and me.
We’ve been invited to dinner at Brandon and Colleen’s house. This is significantly important for a few reasons. First and foremost, Benjamin has repaired his relationship with his best friend. Maybe not fully, but for the most part. I know this because he not only told me about the conversation where he apologized, but also because each night we’re together, over dinner or a drink or while watching TV, he’ll tell me a funny or interesting story about Brandon that had happened.
Point is… they are back in solid friendship territory; the past year is now just a memory for them that hopefully won’t be something to linger on.
Tonight is also important because Benjamin and I are stepping into his former social circle as a “couple”. The invitation was for Benjamin and me to come to Brandon and Colleen’s house for a backyard barbeque. It’s just going to be the four of us. Their kids are off to spend the weekend with Colleen’s parents. The barbecue is going to be casual, but I want a pretty summer dress to wear.
I want to look pretty for Benjamin so he’s proud to have me as his date. After I get my new dress, I’ll have enough time to run home, get showered and put together, then drive into Vegas to meet Benjamin at his apartment. He offered to come get me, but we’re staying at his place tonight so Jorie and I can go baby shopping tomorrow in Vegas and it’s silly for him to come all this way just to get me.
I pull up to the pharmacy, which is a small, independently owned business. It’s in this cool outdoor shopping center that has eclectic stores like one that sells nothing but flavored
olive oils and spices, or another that does high-priced juiced drinks. My parents and I always try to patron locally owned businesses, as my dad is a small business owner himself. He owns a home security system franchise.
MyRx is one of the corner shops, and it’s owned by a young woman named Nicki Palino. She runs the place all by herself without a single employee to help. Of course, her hours are limited and she doesn’t open until ten thirty, but she more than makes up for it by the extra customer service she provides. A trip in to see Nicki usually ends up a half-hour affair as she’s just so fun to talk to.
When I open the glass door, a small chime goes off. I find it funny she has a doorbell as her shop isn’t more than thirty-feet-by-thirty-feet in total. A long counter sits immediately to the right of the door, and the perimeter space behind it is lined with shelves holding the prescription medications she fills.
To the left is a small table with three chairs customers can sit in while they wait, along with a long-shelfed wall that holds over the counter medications.
Nicki’s standing at a worktable behind the counter counting out tablets, and she raises her head with a smile on her face.
“Hey, Elena,” she chirps in greeting. “I already got your mom’s prescription filled.”
That’s the main reason I love coming here. I never have to wait. She’s always so on top of things.
“Let me just finish this count,” she says, returning to her task while I poke around a small lazy Susan display on the counter that holds a variety of essential oils.
I hear the door open, the chiming bell go off, and I turn to look over my shoulder at the next customer coming in.
Instead, I find the barrel of a gun pointed right at my face. Just beyond that, a masked man stands there.
“Back the fuck up,” he orders, and I scramble to do as he says. He waves the gun toward the pass-through counter. “Get back there with her.”
The man corrals me behind the counter with Nicki, and I start to walk straight toward her. Her eyes are wide with fear, and her skin has gone about five shades paler than her normal.
“Uh-uh,” the man mutters, then grabs the collar of my shirt to yank me into him. “You stay near me.”
“Just give him the money,” I instruct Nicki in a calm voice. “It’ll be okay.”
The man lets out a hysterically high-pitched laugh, and Nicki just shakes her head as she murmurs. “He doesn’t want money.”
I go numb with true fear now, because if he doesn’t want money, he must want Nicki and me. I consider striking out because I’ve always been taught to fight.
Instead, I’m dragged closer to Nicki by the gunman as he waves his gun at the shelves lined with medications. “You know the deal… all your oxy and percs. Adderall. Vicodin. And don’t fucking leave anything behind.”
What the fuck? He wants drugs?
And then it hits me… the street value has got to be way more valuable than just the cash from her register.
Nicki slowly reaches for a plastic bag, and the man screams. “Hurry, you dumb fucking bitch. I ain’t got all day.”
The man’s arm goes around my neck to hold me closer, and I can feel his entire body vibrating. I wonder if he’s just hyped up on adrenaline or if he needs some of those drugs himself.
Nicki moves faster, scrambling to one of the shelves. She starts tossing boxes into the bag.
“Faster,” the man demands. Nicki falters, looking over her shoulder at us. The man moves the gun to my temple, and he presses the barrel there. “Fucking faster or I’ll blow her goddamn head off.”
Nicki pivots, then starts pulling inventory off the shelves faster. When the bag is half full, she turns to hand it to the man. He whips his head to the door, checks to see if anyone is near, and then swivels back to Nicki. Releasing his hold around my neck, he reaches out for the loot.
When it’s in hand, he waves the gun, pointing at the floor. “All right… both of you on your knees with your faces away from me.”
Nickie moves to the spot he indicates, then immediately starts to drop to her knees. I don’t like the sound of putting myself into a position where he can shoot me execution style. Maybe I’ve watched too much of the Sopranos or something, but nope. Not going to happen.
I don’t move a muscle.
“Get on your knees, bitch,” he growls.
“No,” I reply as I lift my chin, but my voice is shaking like a leaf. “You got your shit, now get out of here.”
It comes so fast I have no time to react, dodge, or duck. His hand with the pistol cocks back and comes flying at me backhand style. Right across my temple. Stars explode in my eyes. The pain is blinding for a moment, but then I see my own blood spatter across Nicki’s worktable as I go crashing to the floor.
My back is to him, and I wait for the bullet to come next.
Instead, the door chime goes off. My heart wrenches for whoever is getting ready to walk into this disaster. I hear the man curse, feet scuffling, and then someone else screams.
Nicki is at my side, gently turning me over so she can look at my head. “He’s gone,” she says. Someone else is now at my side, kneeling next to me. An older man with snowy-white hair in a buzz cut. He looks former military or police, and he has his phone pressed to his ear while he talks to 9-1-1.
“Yes, I just walked into a robbery at MyRx on Honey Camp Road. The assailant is gone, but there’s an injured woman… looks like a head wound.”
“He hit her with the gun,” Nicki provides, then she pushes up and disappears. In moments, she’s back with a towel to press to my bleeding head.
I try to sit up, but the man gently pushes me by the shoulder to stay down as he continues to talk to the dispatcher.
“You’ve got a really bad laceration,” Nicki advises me, her voice quavering. “I am so sorry, Elena.”
I smile wanly. “Why? It’s not like you planned this.”
Her return smile is tremulous. “I just can’t believe that happened. I mean… what the hell is wrong with people?”
“Indeed,” I murmur, closing my eyes for a moment. My head hurts like a… well, like I’d just been pistol whipped.
Over the next twenty minutes, we’re swarmed with police and crime scene investigators. Paramedics arrive and while I don’t want to go in an ambulance, I’m sort of strong-armed into doing so by them and Nicki.
“You’ve got a nasty head wound, and you really should have a CT scan to make sure there’s no bleeding on your brain,” one told me.
That scared me a little, so I relented.
They load me onto a stretcher, and I feel foolish for it. I was sure I could walk, but they won’t let me. They bandage up the wound, but they can’t give me anything for the pain.
We can’t leave until they get some of my basic information. Another paramedic works on starting an IV. While they’re doing that, Nicki sits in the ambulance with me for support.
And then it occurs to me… I won’t be shopping for a pretty dress or attending dinner at Brandon and Colleen’s tonight with Benjamin.
“Nicki… can you send a text for me?” I ask.
“Sure,” she replies, then rummages through my purse for my phone.
I don’t even consider calling Benjamin. He’s busy at work seeing patients. Besides, I wouldn’t even expect him to answer. This isn’t an emergency, though, so I’m fine with a text.
I tell her exactly what to say on the text. After she sends it, she asks, “Do you want me to call your mom or someone else?”
“No,” I say wanly. “Dad’s out of town, and she just had a knee injection so she’s not mobile right now. I’ll call her later after the CT scan so I can assure her everything’s fine.”
“Want me to call anyone?” she presses.
I consider Jorie, but then decide against it. She’d worry, too, and I’m fairly sure there’s nothing to worry about. Despite having a hell of a headache, I don’t feel that bad. Nothing I would expect from such an injury—no dizziness or anything.
I didn’t even lose consciousness.
“I’ll just wait until after they examine me, then I’ll call one of my brothers,” I say, although I’m not sure which one. They’ll all panic to some extent.
Hell, maybe I’ll just call an Uber to take me home. I am, after all, an independent woman.
Then why do I suddenly feel like crying and wish Benjamin was here at my side right now?
CHAPTER 27
Benjamin
“You’re doing remarkably well, Sandy,” I tell my patient as I give her a gentle pat on the knee. “I want you to come back in three months. If things stay the same, I’m going to release you.”
“Thank you so much, Dr. Hewitt,” she gushes, reaching down and squeezing my hand. “You saved my life.”
“Well, you did all the hard work in recovery,” I assure her, but it never feels old when a patient tells me that.
Reaffirms my purpose in life.
Grabbing my cane from the door where I normally leave it while examining a patient, I walk out of the exam room, move to the next door down the hall, and pull the patient chart from the plastic holder attached to the wall. As I flip through, orienting myself to the patient inside, my phone alerts me to an incoming text.
A text from an incredibly beautiful and sexy woman who I can’t seem to stop thinking about these days. I gave Elena her own text sound using one of the pre-programmed tones called “Ripple,” which sounds like wind chimes.
Peaceful.
The way Elena often makes me feel, and I realize how much I’ve romanticized this woman if I program her text chime to induce the same feelings in me that she produces.
Shaking my head, I pull my phone out of my lab coat pocket. We don’t ordinarily communicate during the day as we’re both so busy, so it’s unusual for her to text me. My curiosity has me wanting to look versus ignore.
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