“What is it? What is it? Are you hurt?” My voice shook so hard, I’m not even sure I said what I thought I said. A knife to the chest would have been easier to deal with than knowing Wes was in pain, had been wounded in some way and I couldn’t physically get to him.
“Yeah, baby, I’m hurt. Took uh, a bullet to the neck. I’m okay though. Really I’m going to be fine.” He groaned and I heard a rustling sound but everything started to become a little fuzzy after what he’d said.
Took a bullet to the neck.
The neck! Who takes a bullet to the neck and lives to tell about it? “Wes, baby, I need to see you. Right fucking now. Where are you? Tell me where you are. I’ll be on the next flight out. I have friends that have private planes. My brother could send me in his.” I rushed my words, already planning who to call next to reach him the fastest.
“Your brother?” His tone was confused and I didn’t blame him.
I pressed my fingers into my temples. “Yeah, I have a brother. A real brother. DNA proved it. And he, uh, he paid off Pops’s debt.”
“What, who?” he said tersely, but I wasn’t sure if it was because he was in pain or because he was hearing such surprising information for the first time.
“Maxwell Cunningham.”
He coughed and whimpered. “Fuck!” he said breathily again. “Stop with the blood pressure cuff. I’m trying to talk to my fiancée. Back off. Give me a minute,” he growled.
Fiancée? I’d let that go for now. He probably just wanted to make sure the person interrupting him knew it was an important call. Probably. Maybe. “Who are you talking to?” I asked.
“Nurse Ratched!” he said, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t saying it to me as much as to whoever was checking on him.
“Wes, honey, where are you?” My entire being was frantic for any hint of information.
“Australia, I think.”
What the fuck was he doing in Australia? “You were in Indonesia last I heard.”
“Yeah, when the raid happened, they had to medevac a lot of us out of there, and since we’d been taken to Indonesia and held captive, they wanted to get us to a safer locale where our government had some healthy peaceful ties.”
Leaning back against the headboard, I stared out at the dark sky. “When can I see you?”
He sighed. “Honestly, sweetheart, I don’t know. They are interviewing the captives as quickly as possible but also making sure we’re safe. You’re friend Mr. Shipley has been on everyone’s ass. Making a real name for himself.” He chuckled then made a wincing sound.
God, if only I were there, I could kiss it better. I’d have to contact Warren, tell him how much it meant to me to have used his connection.
My voice cracked when I told him how I felt. “Baby, I want to hold your hand. Watch you sleep. Feel your chest rise and fall. Hear your heart beating. I need you home.”
“I want nothing more than to come home to you, sweetheart. Soon. I promise. I’ll do everything I can to get out of here.”
“Can you call me every day until you get back?”
Once again, he chuckled, only this time softly. “They gave each of us a cell phone. We can talk as much as we want.”
The elephant sitting on my chest got up and moseyed away. I still felt the remnants of the burden, but over time, that would lessen.
“So…your fiancée, huh?” I couldn’t help but mess with him a little. Banter with my guy the way we always did.
He hummed and the sound went straight to my happy place. Wes was back. Thank you, God.
“There’s a lot we need to talk about but yeah, you and me, that’s just the way it’s going to be. I’m not waiting for paradise. I’m throwing you over my shoulder kicking and screaming and taking you there. I will not live another day of my life worrying about you. About what would happen to you if I’d died out there.”
“Don’t. Wes, just don’t even say it.” The tears came back on a rampage.
“Mia, we can’t hide from life. We never know how much time we have or what could happen to us as we’re living it. All I know is I’m going to do it with you by my side. For good. It’s me and you. You will be my wife.”
I laughed through the tears and rejoiced in the feeling of my chest widening, my heart growing so big it could burst with joy. “And what if I say no?” I joked, knowing he’d hear it in my tone.
“No is not an option.” His voice lowered, and the sultry tone that made me instantly wet slid across his lips.
“It’s yes, Wes. Oh, God, Wes, yes. Give it to me harder, Wes. Yes, I will marry you, Wes.”
He hummed again and the sound went through me as if I’d been struck by the lightening flickering in the sky outside the window. “I’m a nice guy. I’ll give you options.”
I kicked my feet and screamed silently. My guy was something else. Locked away in some military hospital in Australia after having been held captive for almost a month, and he was talking marriage and joking around with his girlfriend after taking a gunshot to the neck.
“I was really scared,” I admitted in a hushed tone.
“Me too. And I’m dealing with some of that now by helping save others that may still be out there. I have to help. If I can be here a week more and save even one person, sweetheart, it would be worth it. We have our entire lives together.”
“That we do.” I said, trying to lighten the situation enough to get through this week. If he could live through a month of hell, I could manage a week.
“I love you, Mia.” Wes saying those words, being able to hear them come from his very lips, was like a cool drink on a hot day.
“I love you more, Wes. So much more.” I swallowed repeatedly and wiped my running nose against my sleeve.
“Nurse Ratched needs to change my bandage,” he stated on a long yawn and an “ouch.”
“Okay. Will you call me when you wake up tomorrow?” I’d meant it as a question but it was really more of a plea.
He yawned and mumbled something.
“Wes!” Fear scattered along every nerve when he didn’t respond.
“Yeah, sorry, baby. I think she doped me. My eyes are closing faster than I can open them.”
“I love you,” I said again for no other reason than it felt good saying it.
“Mmm, me too. My Mia.” He sounded drunk and half asleep. Then the line cut off.
With heavy limbs, I snuggled into the comforter, holding the phone close. I tucked myself in and watched the light show outside. All my thoughts were of Wes. The relief I felt, knowing he was safe and being taken care of, but frustrated that I wasn’t there to help. I also thought about marrying him, living a long life together. It would all start when he got back home.
I had so much to tell him, and I wanted to know all the details about his captivity. Kiss away any hurts that couldn’t be seen. I knew from experience from the assault with Aaron, that those things could be long lasting. Mine was so brief compared to what Wes had survived. It wouldn’t be easy to move on from something so horrible. I knew for a fact that he’d watched friends, people he cared about, die right before his eyes. Right now, I could only be thankful that he was alive. My guy had survived and together we’d heal. Both of us.
* * *
Watching someone I love sleep is one of my favorite past times. Growing up, it was Maddy. She’d fall asleep while I read to her, petted her hair, and told her stories. For a long time after she’d fallen asleep, I’d look at her. Memorize the exact golden shade of her hair, the arch of her brows, the pucker of her pink lips. Even in sleep, my girl was angelic. I took a lot of joy in being able to give my sister a peaceful night’s sleep. Each and every day it was a new goal. When I was with Alec, I’d play with his hair until he’d wake up smiling, roll over, and ravish me, allowing those beautiful russet locks to lie like a shroud around my face as he loved me. I did the same with Wes. He was the most peaceful in sleep, and when he was face up, he always had a slight curve to his lips. As if whatever he dreamed of was worth s
miling for, even in repose. I loved that about him. There was no other man more beautiful in repose than a man you loved with your whole heart and soul.
Now, I watched Pops. The ventilator was gone, as were the tubes in his nose and around his face. He still had the feeding tube, catheter, blood pressure cuff, and IV. Otherwise, he looked as though he was taking a nap. I think that was the hardest part about him having been in a coma for so long. While I waited by his bedside, I kept expecting him to open his eyes. Every visit depressed me more and more because he wouldn’t wake up.
The doctors said after the seizures, almost dying from the two allergic reactions, and the viral infection they had hope he’d wake up, but there was no telling. The only saving grace was that, according to the neurologist, there was brain activity but they couldn’t be certain what that would mean if or until he woke up. I asked the age-old question repeatedly. When did they think he’d awaken?. And they always said the same thing. When he wanted to. The truth was, they couldn’t know. There was no magic “easy” button or master alarm that we could set to make it happen. And believe me, the noise thing? Yeah, I tried that. Banging on the rails of his bed. Putting headphones over his ears with metal music that I knew he hated just so he’d wake up and tell me to turn the devil music off, but nothing. Silence. No movement whatsoever.
That was hard to swallow, too. Holding his hand. It was always warm yet lifeless. Blood was running through the veins, but the magnetism, the energy, the life force, whatever it was that makes us who we are, wasn’t there in him.
I sat there looking at his overgrown hair, beard, and mustache. Ginelle had been keeping him looking good in my absence but he needed a trimming—not to mention a dose of sunshine would do wonders for his pallor. He had that pale grayish skin tone that a person gets when he hasn’t been outside in a long time. My father had been in a coma for nine months. The length of time it takes a woman to become pregnant and have a baby.
“When are you going to wake up, Pops? There is so much, too much to say.” I took several deep breaths before continuing.
“I’m going back to Malibu tomorrow. As much as I’d like to be here for you, our lives can’t sit on hold any longer. Your debt has been paid, Dad, but not without a sacrifice. Sometimes I look back on this year and think I should thank you. Without your debt, I wouldn’t have met all the wonderful people I’ve encountered over the year. People who I know will continue to be a part of my life for the long haul. And of course, there’s meeting Max. My brother.”
I stood up and started pacing the room. “Mom had a child before me, Pops. A boy. Five years older than I am. Thirty now. His name is Maxwell, and he’s the best brother a girl could ever have. I’m sure you picked up on the name thing. Maxwell, Mia, and Madison. Just like her and Aunt Millie. Mom was nothing if not predictable.” I thought about how she left each of us, and that snake coiled up and back around my heart at the thought of the woman who’d borne me. Yep, very predictable.
Stopping in place, I looked out the window. The dark clouds of last night had all but gone, leaving a pristine blue sky in their wake. Moving close to Pops, I ran my fingers through his soft dark hair. It had always been silky smooth, and even at rest, it was no different. “This journey has led me to a man, Pops. A man I’m so deeply in love with, I know with everything that I am that he’s it. The end-all be-all for me.” I stared hard at his face, hoping there would be a flicker of life, a scant smile, anything…but no.
“I’m going to go now. I don’t know when I’m going to make it back. Maddy and Matt will check on you. You’d like him. Matt. He’s good for her. Treats her like the queen she is. The doctors here are going to do everything they can to get you to come back, but it’s up to you, Pops. You need to fight and fight hard. Fight for us.” I closed my eyes and took a breath. “If anything with you changes, I’ll be on the first plane out.” I leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
“I’m glad you made it through this scare. Hell, I’m glad everyone made it through this scare.” I walked to the edge of the bed and looked down at the man who raised me. He’d never been perfect, nor did he claim to be, but he loved us, even when he absolutely hated himself.
“You know, Pops, it wasn’t right for you to borrow all that money, and it definitely wasn’t okay to have that burden fall on my shoulders, but I don’t regret the decisions I’ve made this year or the journey I’ve taken so far. I wouldn’t change what I’ve experienced for anything. Through it, I feel as though I’m finding myself, more and more each month. Maybe by December I’ll have even more figured out. If you asked me, if anyone asks…I’d do it all again. And the ride isn’t even over.”
The End
Mia’s journey is continued in:
Calendar Girl: October
(Coming Soon!)
Keep reading for an excerpt!
Excerpt From October Calendar Girl #10
A smartly dressed blonde in her twenties, strung tight as a drum, led me through the halls of Century Productions. “You’ll need to be here every weekday promptly at nine.” She looked down at her watch and cringed.
Okay, so I was a few minutes late. The man at the gate told me the wrong studio. So even though I’d left a half hour earlier than I needed, I still ended up a few minutes late.
“Sure thing. Now that I know where to go, I’ll be here earlier.”
The woman who proudly introduced herself as Dr. Hoffman’s assistant, Shandi, with an I, nodded curtly and moved along at a fast clip. Her sky-high heels knocking on the concrete floors matched the hurried cadence of my heart. I hadn’t felt rushed like this in months. I’d forgotten how everything in Hollywood moved at the speed of light. One had to be fast on the toes if she wanted to keep up.
“Makeup and wardrobe is in there.” Shandi pointed to a room with several chairs sitting in front of large mirrors with the bulbous lights that highlighted every wrinkle and blemish on one’s face. I did not look forward to sitting in that hot seat. When I glanced back, Shandi’s gaze seemed to slide over my skirt and blouse. “You’ll do as you are style-wise, though the hair needs some work. This isn’t wild women of the Amazon. We’ll have it pulled back, put into soft curls, something more elegant and professional.” She tapped her chin with a perfectly-manicured pale pink finger-tip. “The camera is going to love you. Almost as much as Drew will.” Her corresponding scowl was not well hidden as she turned on a toe and carried on.
We were led to a door that had “Drew Hoffman” in big white letters inscribed inside of a star. Shandi rapped on the door.
“Come in, Shandi,” said a smooth-as-hot-chocolate-dripped-over-an-ice-cream-sundae-type voice.
“Ms. Saunders is here. You said you wanted to meet with her before she met with the writers?” Shandi’s entire personality changed right before my eyes. The frown was gone and replaced with a huge smile, her eyes no longer squinted in disdain. No, now they were open wide and sparkling. A lovely rose-colored hue swept across her cheeks as she spoke to the man I couldn’t see.
“Yes, yes, darling. Bring her in.”
Darling?
Shandi opened her arm wide and led me into the room. The man that greeted me was not what I’d expected. He was older, at least fifteen years my senior, but that did not distract from his looks. Dark black hair tinged with wisps of gray at the edges of his hairline. Gray assessing eyes that seemed to appreciate what he saw before him. He was much broader than he appeared on television, though perhaps that was because he often wore body-hiding scrubs. Now, standing at least six feet, in a dress shirt that nipped in delectably at the waist and a pair of slacks that formed to every curve, I could see exactly why people swooned over the good doctor. He was hot. Plain and simple.
“Extraordinary.” He held out a hand.
I placed my palm within it and he set the other on top in a two-handed hold. Who did that anymore? The two-handed hold?
“You are far more beautiful in person than your pictures.” He gushed.
I tip
ped my head and took in his form. “You aren’t too bad yourself, Doc.” The compliment rolled of my tongue in a sultry tone. I couldn’t not respond. Dr. Drew Hoffman was smokin’ hot. Did I want to hop on him and ride him till morning? No, not even a little bit, but just because my heart and sex drive belonged to Wes didn’t mean I was dead or unaffected by a damn fine specimen of the male variety.
He shook his head, lifting my hand and kissing the top. “It’s good to meet you, Ms. Saunders. I look forward to what you come up with for your segment. The media have really taken a liking to you, especially after the Latin Lov-ah’s video went viral. You are quite the sought-after celebrity.”
I snorted in the most unladylike fashion. “Um, I believe you have your signals crossed. I’m not popular. I’ve dated a few popular men and starred in a video, but that’s the end of it.”
He clucked his tongue and let go of my hand, which was good because it was starting to feel creepy that he was holding onto it for so long. He walked over to the table and spread out several smut mags and a few newspaper clippings. “What say you of this then?”
I walked over to the table and took in the display before me. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. A dozen magazines with my image on the cover. One with Tony, another with Mason, my ad campaign showing the black-and-white shoot with model MiChelle back in Hawaii. There was even a spread of Alec and me at the art showing of Love on Canvas in Seattle. The photographer paid very close attention to every little touch and overture Alec made toward me. There was even an image suggesting I was the new love interest of Anton Santiago and currently cheating on him with new beau Weston Channing.
Fueled by frustration, I pushed the magazines back. “I don’t know what to say.”
Drew sat down on his couch and put his arms out wide, a causal pose if I’d ever seen one. This man was master of his domain, king of his castle, and nothing ruffled his feathers.
September: Calendar Girl Book 9 Page 11