The Enchanted: Council of Seven Shifter Romance Collection

by Juniper Hart

  When she looked in the mirror, she saw a woman who was cute rather than beautiful. Her eyes were big, as if she was in a perpetual state of surprise. She had a sprinkling of freckles over a small button-like nose and pink lips that were perfectly proportionate to her features. Her hair was thick and light, a mass of blonde waves ending just above her slender shoulders. She had an athletic build, not an ounce of excess fat anywhere on her body.

  Her mother was always encouraging her to eat more, but Gena could easily put away enough food for two grown men.

  I don’t look twenty-eight, she decided finally, sticking her pink toothbrush in her mouth. Maybe I’ll be a cougar in a decade. I may not have a choice. I’m going to die alone otherwise.

  Even though the thought made her grin, in truth, she was feeling terribly lonely since Chad had left. She kept expecting him to call or show up, smiling sheepishly, but he obviously did not. Again, she reasoned that she was only upset because he had ended it and not her, but four years was a long time to commit to someone.

  Odd how we never spoke about marriage or kids, she thought as she dressed. I guess we always knew we weren’t going to have a future together. But still, not one conversation in four years? What did we talk about?

  Gena wracked her brain for conversations she’d had with him, when times were not terrible, yet she couldn’t remember a single thing they had spoken of. Did that happen to all couples eventually? Did they just grow stagnant and stay together because they had invested so much time in each other already?

  She wondered where Chad had gone. I should probably find out so I know where to send his stuff. I’ll do that when I get back from the hospital. I’ll call his mom and have her come get his crap. No doubt he moved back home. I shouldn’t have to be a storage unit for him if he isn’t going to be paying any of the bills here.

  Starting the coffee maker, Gena petted the cat absently behind his velvety ears, and he purred happily.

  “I will always have you, Mittens,” she told him affectionately. He bit her hand and hissed before running away. “Ingrate!” she yelled after his fluffy tail. “It’s not my fault he left, Mittens!” She knew Mittens was angry at her, but she had not realized how vindictive a cat could be.

  Now the question was, what was she supposed to do for three hours now?

  She considered going back to sleep for an hour, but she laughed at the inane thought. She wished she had the ability to fall asleep anywhere like some of the other nurses she knew. Her propensity toward insomnia would never allow for it. Aside from sleeping pills, which left her feeling sluggish and unmotivated in the morning, there was little else that worked for Gena, whose thoughts seemed most acute during the wee hours of the morning.

  Suddenly, she heard a phone ringing in the front hallway. Blinking, she glanced at the table where her own cell sat.

  Oh, crap! It’s that stupid phone I found. Arden Morrow’s cell. I have to do something about that today, too, she vowed, hurrying toward the chiming.

  It stopped ringing by the time she picked it up, and she considered calling the number back but changed her mind as she thought about the reporter who had cornered her the previous day. Was it true that she had Arden Morrow’s cell? If so, what on earth was it doing here? Why would the biggest star in Hollywood be in Apple Orchard?

  Who cares? Whether it’s his phone or someone else’s, I need to get it back to its rightful owner. I’ll stop by the Sprint store after the hospital. It’s only twelve blocks out of the way. On a whim, Gena sat down at her ancient laptop and waited for it to warm up. Let’s see if the internet has anything to say about the whereabouts of Arden Morrow these days.

  As the Internet Explorer icon finally loaded, Gena did a search and was surprised by what she discovered.

  It seemed like Arden Morrow had disappeared off the celebrity radar, and no one knew where he’d gone. He had thrown a temper tantrum and stormed off a set, breaking his contract. How perfectly Hollywood cliché. Gena supposed he could be anywhere. Still, it was highly unlikely that he was hiding out in Apple Orchard, British Columbia on vacation.

  Gena couldn’t even imagine where a millionaire would stay in a town with a population of twenty-two thousand people. The only decent hotel was the Howard Johnson, and she was sure that if any star had checked in there, everyone would have heard about it by then.

  That reporter seemed to think that I had his phone. Ah, well, it would have been cool knowing that I had a celeb’s phone for a day, Gena thought ruefully. I would swing by the Easter House and tell the old timers about it. They would get a kick out of hearing a story like that.

  She smiled, thinking about her former patients, another stab of loneliness hitting her. She missed her job at the hospice. She glanced back at the phone and shoved it into the depth of her purse. She would let Sprint figure it out.

  Malik cracked his neck to the side as he walked confidently down the ramp into the Los Angeles International Airport. He was bracing himself mentally for the barrage of screaming he was about to endure. He had purposely turned off his phone for the past two days, determined not to let Arden hear any of the offers coming in for him. His plan was to surround Arden with Zen and happiness. He had not entirely decided on a course of action regarding Arden’s sudden announcement. The entire flight back, he had played and replayed the conversation they’d had, and he still could not make sense of what was happening.

  It’s stress, pure and simple. You have seen this happen dozens of times to hundreds of celebrities and even more bears. What he really needs is a crutch. I should have found him one long ago.

  Malik wondered if things would be easier if Arden was battling alcoholism. At that point, Malik reasoned, anything was worth a try. He could sober Arden up. He couldn’t undo him spitting in the faces of the major directors. There would be no going back from it if he pissed it away.

  As he entered the baggage area, his phone began to ring. Hopefully, Malik glanced at it but realized it was not Arden.

  Just Randy Danvers, ready to tear me a new orifice because of Arden’s contract, he thought mournfully, bypassing the baggage carrousel. He breezed through customs and exited the gate. Before he could walk out the door, his cell was buzzing again. Sighing, Malik stared down at the phone. TMZ. What they hell do they want? Probably trying to find out where Arden is. Pressing the reject button, he readjusted his carry-on, and to his annoyance, his cell chimed again. It was a text from Cathy Stewart at Fame.

  What was with all of these reporters this morning? They hadn’t been so bloodthirsty since Arden had taken off a month ago.

  Malik unlocked the phone and read the text.

  Any comment? the message asked.

  “Any comment on what?” he answered aloud, staring around the terminal. Immediately, his cell rang, and he began to get a peculiar feeling at the base of his skull. The non-existent hairs at the back of his shaved neck prickled, and his dark eyes found their way to a newsstand in the corner.

  As if he was possessed by an unknown entity, Malik started toward the kiosk, ignoring the device endlessly buzzing in his hand. Calls came in fast and furiously, but Malik no longer bothered to regard the display. Instead, he sauntered toward the magazines and instantly saw what he was seeking. A hot flush and feeling of cold worry seized him simultaneously as he snatched up the new copy of Physique. His body collapsed against the wall as he tore into the magazine and scanned the article.

  “Hey, you can’t just read that! You gotta pay for it first!” the tattooed vendor snarled at him. Scowling, Malik dug a ten-dollar bill from his pocket and thrust it at the man before hurrying outside.

  “Keep the change, sunshine,” he chirped at the surly stand owner. The man flipped him the finger, and Malik grinned to himself.

  I’m definitely back in LA, he thought ruefully. No mistaking this craphole for Sunshine and Lollipops, British Columbia.

  Falling into a waiting cab, he continued to read the story Shari Jespers had scandalously crafted and sighed dee
ply. Throwing the paper to the side, Malik stared at the roof of the cab, gnawing on the insides of his cheeks while his brain worked like a hamster on a wheel.

  Okay, so it seems he has a crutch. The question is, will this help or hurt things?

  5

  “How is the transition for you, Gena?”

  Gena glanced up from the chart to address her superior and smiled briefly, slightly taken aback by the question.

  “Everything is going very well, thank you, Nurse Barkley,” she replied, and the head nurse nodded crisply, leaning over the counter.

  “I’m glad to hear it. It’s not much different than palliative care, is it?”

  Gena shook her head, but she was lying. In truth, she was not a big fan of her new position, though she dared not speak an ill breath. She was exceedingly grateful to have the job at all. Still, she morbidly longed for the hospice. At least there, she knew what to expect, the dying patients biding their time until they took their last breaths. The families with whom she dealt were accepting of their loved one’s fate, and she rarely dealt with hysterics or hope. It was the way she liked it. Dark, depressing, and dying. Intensive care was a completely different playing field. The families clung to the remotest chance of survival, begged for answers she did not have, and the patients sometimes got better. The emotional rollercoaster was already taking its toll on Gena, and she had only been there for three days.

  In three months, I can apply for the night shift so I won’t have to deal with anyone but the comatose patients. I just have to wait out my probation, Gena told herself. It did not help the time to go faster, but at least she knew there was light at the end of the tunnel.

  “I have heard from the residents and other nurses that you are picking up on specifications quite easily, but I suspected with your background, you would not have an issue following guidelines.”

  “No, ma’am,” Gena answered. “As with most things, the standards here are basically common sense.”

  Nurse Barkley chortled mirthlessly. “Ah, if only common sense were so common, dear,” she sighed. “If it’s not the nurses, it’s the doctors going rogue.”

  “Bad day?” Gena asked politely. She actually didn’t want anyone else’s problems unloaded on her. She had more than enough to worry about without hearing her co-worker’s problems.

  “Honey, when you’re in charge, every night is a bad day,” the head nurse said heavily. “If you have any questions, you know where to find me.” She disappeared from the station, and Gena turned back to look at the chart.

  Her shift was almost over, and she was looking forward to going for a long jog. She had been neglecting her daily exercise since starting at the hospital, and she knew how easy it would be to fall into her hermit-like tendencies if she did not keep up with her routine.

  Then I will soak in the tub for an hour and sleep like a baby tonight. I’m off tomorrow, and I’ll do some grocery shopping. Oh, and I have to make an appointment to take that filthy cat to the vet for his shots before he becomes rabid and eats me in my sleep. I can see the way he looks at me, licking his chops all the time. Oh, and I need to buy cat food. Maybe that’s why he always looks at me like that.

  Suddenly, a feeling of melancholy overcame her. After her hiring interview, she had done what she had promised herself: called Chad’s mother and arranged for her to pick up his belongings. The conversation had left Gena feeling sick. The woman had treated her like she was a telemarketer calling, answering her questions with single syllables.

  Your son left me! Why are you making me feel like the bad guy here? He left me alone to carry the house, the cat, and my sanity, and somehow, I’m the one getting attitude! she wanted to scream. Instead, she made the date for her to gather his belongings.

  Gena hadn’t realized just how much they had acquired together in the two years they had lived in the house. With his ugly red Ikea chair and scarred computer desk out of the living room, it now seemed to be twice the size that it was before. She was relieved to see the video game consoles and his ugly Coca Cola caps that sat atop the faux mantel gone into boxes. To her eyes, the entire house was bare with Chad’s items removed.

  It’s about time some of this clutter got cleared out, she thought haughtily looking about. Now I have room to bring up my arm weights and yoga matts from the basement instead of working out in the dank, musty underbelly of the house, where Chad exiled me so he could play Red Dead Redemption undistracted.

  It should have filled her with elation, but every day, she returned home flooded with loneliness and regret, though she didn’t understand why. It hadn’t been working out for a long time. They couldn’t have continued living together like roommates. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of them. Even though her reasoning was sound, it did not stop her from feeling the deep yearning in her gut. She tried to find reasons to leave the house constantly, knowing that given the chance, she would crawl under her frayed comforter and sleep the world away.

  “Anything I should know?” The night nurse had arrived to relieve Gena, and she snapped out of her reverie to glance at her.

  “Room 404 had a rough day. He had two seizures, but he’s stable again. We’re waiting on the results for the MRI, but he may not last through the night.”

  The night nurse nodded, and Gena rose from the swivel chair, collecting her handbag from under the desk.

  “Have a good day off tomorrow,” the nurse called as she walked away. “Get some sleep. The seven-day stretches are the worst.”

  Gena waved in acknowledgement but did not turn around. It was not worse than being left alone with her own thoughts for twenty-four hours.

  She wanted to stop and check on the elderly woman in 421. For some reason, Gena felt inexplicably drawn to the wrinkled creature whose charts claimed her to be in her late nineties. She wasn’t entirely clear on what had brought the old woman to ICU, and every shift that Gena had worked, she had been asleep, but her records indicated that she wasn’t comatose.

  “Hi, Millie,” Gena murmured, slipping into the quiet room. “How are you feeling tonight?”

  Of course, Millie didn’t open her eyes, and Gena found herself gently pushing a fine piece of white hair behind her ear. She stared at the elderly lady for a long while, wondering why she continued to visit her.

  She reminds you of the hospice patients, Gena finally realized. That, however, didn’t stop her from hovering over the old woman for a while longer. To Gena’s knowledge, Millie had not received a single visitor in the weeks since she’d been brought to the ICU, and it broke her heart.

  I know what it’s like to be alone, she told Millie silently. I’ll come visit you every day. I promise.

  Suddenly, Millie stirred, and Gena balked, backing up. She didn’t want to be caught sneaking into a patient’s room when she had no real business being there. But just as abruptly as she had moved, Millie fell still again, and Gena knew she had to get moving.

  As she exited the hospital into the cool evening air, her mind again wandered to why Chad had not bothered to contact her since leaving. It was like the last four years had never existed. He must have checked out a long time ago. It must be nice to walk out of someone’s life that easily. Maybe he could teach a class on apathy. Gena would sign up for that in a second.

  Walking down the almost deserted streets of Apple Orchard, she reasoned that she knew why her ex had not bothered to send a text. There was really nothing left to say.

  He could at least ask about Mittens, she thought bitterly. It’s bad enough that you left me with that mangy beast. I guess he forgot that I wanted a dog, but he went ahead and brought that stray home against my wishes. You could call and say hello to him, or did you and he fall out of love, too?

  Gena idly wondered if she and Chad had ever been “in” love. Would she know if she had been? Of course she had loved him at some moment. She must have. But wasn’t being “in” love something different? What existential conversation was she having with herself?

  Stop
thinking about Chad. He’s gone. Get over it. You don’t even miss him. You just hate being alone. Automatically, her mind went back to Millie. Was there anything worse than being old, sick, and alone?

  Passing by the far side of Christie Park, she nodded at a couple out walking their dog. It was the Vaus, and the sight of them sank Gena into a worse state of despair.

  Jesus, I know everyone in this town, she thought miserably as she forced a smile and waved at them. For a moment, Gena thought she saw Amy wave her toward them, but she lowered her gaze and continued her way. Those people just moved here, and I recognize them. I really don’t have it in me to talk to them tonight. I need to get out of here before I suffocate.

  Gena had recited those very words in her head endlessly over the years. She had been born and raised in Apple Orchard. Her mother was much older and lived in a retirement home in Vancouver, and her father had disappeared when Gena was eleven. There was truly nothing keeping her from exploring the world except her meager income and her aptitude toward reclusiveness. She had always dreamed of living on some dilapidated shack on some forsaken beach in Indonesia somewhere, untouched by civilization.

  I’m almost thirty, she remembered. I think it’s safe to say that I am going to die in Apple Orchard without ever having lived.

  At Shearer Crescent, Gena froze in her tracks. A slew of vehicles was parked along the typically quiet neighborhood, and a crowd of people were milling about her lawn. Curiously, her neighbors had parked themselves on their porches, craning to see what was occurring. Gena’s initial reaction was to run in the opposite direction, sensing danger, but she shoved down her apprehension and slowly approached the mob.

  “Hey, Gena, what are all those people doing outside your house?” Michelle, her neighbor, called, and Gena shrugged in response. She had no answer.

  A man in a grey button-down shirt and slicked back hair saw her and pointed excitedly.