by Jenika Snow
She acted like the world was ending and I was going to make sure to let her know it wasn’t, that everything was okay, even if that was just by putting a bandage on it.
The mobile medic station that I ran, that I’d built from the ground up, was my pride and joy. As a nurse who wanted to help people more than I cared about making money at a hospital, this was everything I’d worked for.
I traveled up and down the coast of California, mainly helping the homeless, and anyone who was poverty stricken. Which, unfortunately, in California there was plenty of.
We mainly relied on donations and benefactors, be it monetary or medical supplies. And what we couldn’t cover, a lot of the volunteers pitched in with their own money. We were a family.
This might have been a company, an organization I’d started, but it was run by everyone. Everyone had a hand in making it successful. It was our passion and that’s why I worked damn hard to make sure it didn’t die out. That’s why I was barely making ends meet, because this was a job of passion, not a get-rich profession.
We were really lucky to have what we did. And one day I’d like to expand and not just be stationed in California. I’d like to have more mobile medics all over the country. I’d love to be able to help everyone.
“Is it going to hurt?” the little girl asked with fear in her voice.
I gave her a reassuring smile.
“It’ll be okay. I’m just going to clean it and put some of this ointment on it, then cover it up so it doesn’t get dirty anymore.” I could see she was frightened, her little body tense as she watched me with wide eyes. “Would that be okay?”
She looked hesitant as she glanced at her mother, who stood a few feet back. I’d seen the mother before, a woman who had left her abusive husband and was now staying at a women’s shelter with her child.
She was so strong, more than she gave herself credit for.
“This is what I’ll be using.” The little girl looked back at me. I showed her each step I was doing, and when I finally had the bandage in place, I smiled. “See, all done. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She looked down at her freshly covered wound and shook her head, her smile lighting up the trailer.
“I can’t wait to show the other kids at the shelter. It looks so cool.”
I chuckled.
I reached in my pocket and pulled out a sucker, handing it to her and watching as she ran up to her mother.
“Thank you,” she said and wrapped her arm around her daughter’s shoulder. Then they both left.
It was moments like these that made me glad I had taken the risk and started all of this. There had been plenty of people who tried to talk me out of it, friends who thought it was a ridiculous idea, others who just didn’t understand.
But I hadn’t listened to any of them and had followed my heart.
This had been one of the easy days, a little touch-up on a cut that wasn’t serious.
“That’s it for the night,” said Jackson, one of the volunteers.
During the day, he worked as a paramedic, and most nights he was helping me. God, I loved the people who helped me out. They were so genuine and kind, and just wanted to do good.
“Thanks so much for helping today.”
He smiled and nodded, taking off the latex gloves and cleaning up his station.
The mobile medic van wasn’t that large, really just a camper that had been converted to have three separate stations. We couldn’t treat anything serious, but we handled superficial wounds and gave out prophylactics, supplements and vitamins, even some antibiotics when our volunteer physician was on duty.
But the people who came here couldn’t afford anything. And they appreciated everything. So, we did what we could, helped out as much as possible. But sometimes it wasn’t just medical issues we helped out with. Sometimes we helped with food, housing, placing families in shelters, just doing what we could to make their lives a little bit easier. And in this day and age, in this world, it was the least we could do.
“Anybody else here?” I asked Jackson, referring to the other volunteers.
He emptied out the trash cans and tied up the bag, shaking his head. “No, everyone left about ten minutes ago.”
“Thanks so much for your help today.” A lot of days I worked the medic station by myself, something that had to be done given the fact the volunteers had other jobs. And although I also worked as a part-time nurse at an extended care medical facility, something that allowed me to pay my bills, I didn’t mind working the mobile alone.
It gave me time to think, reflect, and a part of me actually enjoyed it.
“I won’t be able to come in for the next couple days. Heading up north to spend time with my brother. But I’ll be back this weekend and can cover a few more shifts.” Jackson smiled and I felt gratitude fill me.
“Thank you so much. You’re always such a huge help. Have a great time with your brother.”
Family, something that was totally foreign to me. Being a child who grew up in foster care, I never really had a stable life or family bond. I didn’t even know who my birthparents were, didn’t even know if I had siblings out there.
I’d never been adopted, so at the age of eighteen, I left the system, got a part-time job, and went to school. It was hard, and I felt like giving up more times than not, but here I was now, twenty-five years old and going home every day feeling like I’d made a little bit of a difference in the world.
Jackson smiled and exited the van. From the doorway I watched as he walked across the parking lot, the trash bag in hand. He tossed it in the back of his truck and climbed in before driving off.
The sun was just starting to set, and I shut and locked the door. After cleaning the rest of the interior, I settled behind the driver’s seat and started the engine. I headed home, something that should’ve been a relief given the fact I’d been working all day, but the truth was it was lonely.
My one bedroom, one bath apartment was lackluster, to say the least. And the only company I had was a damn house plant which, more times than not, looked half-dead.
A green thumb was not something I had, apparently.
California was a heavily populated state, yet I felt utterly alone. It had been something I’d felt my entire life, a missing piece that I could never fill. Maybe it was because I never had a family. Maybe it was because I didn’t really know who I was.
Or maybe it was something else.
That feeling that something was missing in my life had been so consuming, so filling, that it had actually had me isolating myself even more. Trying to connect with people was hard, because I didn’t feel like I belonged.
It was the strangest feeling, one that had taken me a long time to accept. Now, I just went through the motions, immersed myself in helping others because that’s what made the connection for me.
Maybe one day I wouldn’t feel this way.
Maybe one day I’d find that piece that I’d always been missing.
Chapter Two
Oli
I probably looked like a growly, reclusive bastard sitting in the corner of this diner. I certainly had seen people looking at me with caution in their faces, a little bit of reluctance.
And I couldn’t blame them. An unmated shifter in search of his female was a dangerous thing.
I’d been here for the past half hour, slowly eating the cheeseburger and fries in front of me, looking at anybody who walked in, the little bell above the door chipping away at my patience.
I could’ve left at any time, but there was something inside of me, this feeling that had me staying put. I didn’t know what it was, didn’t really understand it.
It was like an intuition, something I’d never truly felt before, but didn’t want to ignore.
So here I sat, not sure how long I was supposed to stay here, maybe until this feeling passed, or until I lost my damn mind.
I picked up my glass of water and took a long drink from it, glancing out one of the front windows
in the process. The parking lot was mildly full, cars sporadically placed in intervals.
As a shifter, all of my senses were heightened. I heard the sizzle of bacon in the kitchen, the grease splattering up as it cooked. I smelled the batter that was being stirred, the sound of the whisk on the metal bowl filling my head. The chatter of employees talking in a back room came through the walls, the conversation as clear as if I stood right beside them, engaged right along with them.
But it was none of those things that had the hairs on my arm standing on end, that had my bear pacing. Whatever it was had me on edge.
Was there danger? Something wrong at home? I’d called my brothers this morning, and everything had been fine, but still there was something lurking under the surface that had me on alert.
I continued to stare out the window and saw a mother and father and their two children entering their mobile home, this large recreational vehicle that screamed family camping vacation. I continued to look outside, my gaze finally stopping on this small van, which almost looked like a clinic, with that medical symbol painted on the side.
There was a line of people right outside the door, little children holding on to their mothers’ and fathers’ hands.
It was across the street, but I could see each and every person that stood there, the elderly woman at the back who held a cane, her hand curled tightly around it, her body fragile. There was a couple at the front who had ragged clothing, dirt under their nails, and bags under their eyes.
I watched each person, not sure if one of them was the reason I felt this way. Maybe my mate was close? I’d never felt anything like this, and didn’t know how I’d react once I did see her. Maybe I’d be uncontrollable, unable to stop myself from shifting, my restraint completely gone.
I’d never really listened to the story of my brothers mating, of how they’d reacted. But I did know that it was different for each shifter, that instant connection the same, but how our animals handled it very different.
Or maybe she wasn’t even in California. Maybe I was just getting too antsy, too impatient.
But out of everything in this entire world, that feeling, that uncontrollable desire, that first meeting ... was what I needed desperately.
India
I unlocked my front door and pushed it open, tossing my keys on the breakfast counter, shutting the door with my foot, and just standing there for a moment listening to the nothingness of it all.
After locking the door, I headed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of white wine, and a glass from the cupboard. I wasn’t much of a drinker, but a glass of wine at the end of the day tended to help me wind down, especially when it was one of those days.
Hectic. Time consuming. Exhausting.
I grabbed a bag of marshmallows and headed back into the living room. Then I sat down, stared at my TV, and contemplated turning it on or just sitting in the dark.
Although I was alone, had been pretty much my entire life, the kind of emptiness I felt just seemed to grow daily. I didn’t know what it was, couldn’t put it into words, not accurately. It was as if there was a hole deep inside of me, growing, becoming bigger until it would swallow me completely one day.
I took a long sip from my wine glass, resting my head back on the couch and staring at the ceiling. Today had been a brutal one, with me working a few hours at the facility, then immediately doing the mobile medic.
There had been back-to-back patients, some just needing reassurance that things would be okay, others being sent to the hospital for issues we couldn’t treat ourselves.
But keeping busy, being surrounded by total strangers seemed to help with the loneliness I felt.
I took another sip of my wine and then set the glass down on the coffee table in front of me. Underneath the table I kept a few books and a photo album. The only one I owned.
I pulled the album out and lay back again, flipping through the pages, photos of when I was younger, foster siblings, school pictures. They all showed a girl who rarely smiled, her blond hair stringy, sometimes a matted mess, her blue eyes seeming too big for her face.
Me.
I’d had nothing, no one, as I’d jumped from foster home to foster home. But then I’d grown up, made my own way. I was happy now, relatively, helping others, focusing on that.
I picked up my wine glass and downed the rest of it, getting drunk and feeling pretty good. But there was always that festering dark hole inside me, the one that reached its long claws out, gripping me from the inside out, trying to tear through me, trying consume me.
To hell with that.
I was strong. I was a survivor.
I set the photo album aside and stood, making my way toward the bathroom. Getting drunk wasn’t my answer. Now, taking a long, hot bubble bath might actually help.
I ran the water and poured the lavender scented bubbles in. In a matter of seconds the room was starting to fill with steam, the scent of flowers filling the small interior. I got undressed, tossing my clothes into the small laundry basket tucked in the corner. And then I stared at myself in the mirror.
The woman who looked back at me was one I didn’t recognize some days. I lifted my hand and touched the side of my neck, the spot right underneath the skin tingling. It was a sensation that had started a couple of days ago. It wasn’t overly noticeable, just a slight tingling, intensifying when I lightly placed my finger on my skin.
I leaned in, looking at my neck, seeing if I could spot anything.
Smooth, pale skin. Nothing out of the ordinary, yet it was still sensitive, as if a jolt of electricity was stationed in just that one spot.
I was going insane, that had to be it. Why else had I been feeling especially on edge these past few days? Maybe I was working too hard? Maybe work was finally getting to me?
Maybe I just needed to get away from it all. And that was something I really needed to think about. Going off for a few days on my own, just relaxing, not worrying about anyone or anything. I could focus on myself. It might do me a world of good.
Or maybe it would make everything worse.
Chapter Three
Oli
The sun was already setting as I headed off the beach and toward my rental truck. I’d been in California for a week now, ready to move on to the next spot in my journey. I didn’t know what I expected to find when I’d decided to travel and be the one to find my mate.
But I’d assumed if my mate was close, I’d have been able to sense her, to feel something other than this longing.
I’d pushed off the diner sensation to my impatient bear, to the fact I was jealous of what my brothers had, their mates completing them. But I’d never admit that to anyone, not even saying those words out loud.
I ran my hand over my jaw, the several days’ worth of stubble scraping along my palm. My thoughts were on my next plans, on if I’d go up north and spend a day or two in the mountains, shifting and letting my bear work off this energy.
My bear paced, clawed to get out. Freedom. It wanted fucking freedom.
I set the surfboard I’d rented for the last few days in the back of my truck. Honestly, I had no fucking clue what I was doing out there, couldn’t even stand up long enough to catch a wave. But the feeling of floating on that board, my feet dangling on either side of it, of the sights, sounds, and smells surrounding me, had this calm settling over me.
I was about to get in my truck when I felt this tingling start at the base of my spine. It was the same sensation that had filled me in the diner. At first it wasn’t overly noticeable, but as the seconds moved by, my muscles tightened, and the hairs on my arms stood on end.
I looked around the nearly deserted parking lot, not seeing anything right away, but then my gaze stopped when I saw it.
The medical van I’d seen before.
I couldn’t ignore it, not when I felt that sensation move through me again.
There wasn’t anyone around the van, and aside from a small light above the side door, darkness surrounded it.
I found myself walking toward the van before I realized what I was doing. It was as if my body—my animal—propelled me forward, taking control.
And then I heard the sound of heavy breathing—frantic, with fear laced in it. Then glass shattering echoed around me. Footsteps started retreating, the sound of someone running having me walk faster.
This panic settled in my chest, this tightening under my ribs. Fuck, what was going on? I placed a hand over my heart and rubbed my chest, the discomfort intensifying.
I walked around the side and saw the source of the sound, what looked like a few broken beer bottles, shattered pieces on the parking lot asphalt. The scent of desperation and addiction hung in the air. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply again. Their scent was ingrained in my memory.
My bear rose up, becoming angry, restless.
I looked around, still not seeing anyone, but the idea of going back to my truck wasn’t something I could physically do. And then I heard a soft feminine whimper.
It was as if the world opened up and swallowed me whole. All it had taken was that soft sound, this one moment, to have every single piece of my life fall right into place. My bear snapped and growled, pacing, wanting out. It had him extending his claws and gripping me from the inside out, trying to tear free, forcing me to shift.
But I was stronger than he was, and I wasn’t about to let him have this first encounter, this first meeting with the one person we had been waiting for our entire life.
Our mate.
But as everything settled in me, I realized the whimper I’d heard was one of fear. I inhaled deeply, the crisp, tangy scent filling the air. I growled low, felt the shift almost take over. My bear wanted out to protect what was ours.
I stalked toward the door of the van, which was already open. I could see medical supplies scattered all along the floor. As I climbed into the interior, I knew where she was instantly. It was as if my body was being pulled toward her, two opposite ends of a magnet that couldn’t be kept apart.