Beast: An Anthology

by Amanda Richardson

  My foot is on the ledge, about to crawl back out through the window when a whimper draws my attention to the floor by the bed. I climb down and fall to the floor.

  “Buddy,” I pull on his collar and try to get him to stand. “You’re gonna have to get up, boy.” He lifts his head and then falls back to the ground. “Please, you have to get up. I can’t leave you,” I cry.

  I go to lift Buddy but have to stop when a coughing fit strikes me. My throat is burning as the air is pulled up through my gut. It passes so I slide my arms under Buddy and pick him up.

  I take a step but his weight is too much. I stagger back. Sweat drips down the side of my face. My shirt is drenched and my forearms are feeling like jello. My strength begins to wane and so does my head as lightheadedness overwhelms me. The room begins to spin. I take another step forward. A step to the side.

  Sweating.

  Spinning.

  I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I can’t hold on.

  I can’t . . .

  The Homecoming

  “YOU GAVE US quite the scare, young lady.”

  I open my eyes to the sight of Aunt Ina sitting by my bed, a cup of tea in hand.

  My head is pounding and my mouth feels like I’ve swallowed sandpaper.

  “Water,” I mouth and she pours me a glass. Someone rushes over and holds my back as I take a sip. I look over and see a woman in white pants and a white top assisting me.

  “Your father has had this place running like a twenty-four hour hospital. The doctor has been in quite a few times,” Aunt Ina says.

  I sit back and look around my room. Everything looks the same, minus the nurse and a table nearby with some medical supplies.

  “The fire.” I remember being in Jameson’s room and trying to get Buddy out.

  “You’re very lucky that boy was there to save you. Jumped out the window with you in his arms. He even went back for the dog.”

  “Buddy’s alright.” A wave of relief washes over me. “Who was there? Who got us out?”

  “The boy with the beard. The one your father hired to fix the cars.”

  A laugh escapes my lips. Jameson saved me.

  “What on Earth were you doing in the carriage house? We’ve all been in a fit of worry. You’ve been sleeping for nearly two days, you know? And the carriage house is ruined. Fire department got the flames out but it needs to be rebuilt. Investigators said it was gasoline spread across the floor.”

  I reach for my throat, recalling how strong it burned from the smoke. I can still feel the heat on my skin from the flames. “I know who set the fire. It was Gavin. I saw him.”

  She grabs her chest. “Are you sure? But he’s such a nice young man. Your father thinks the world of him.”

  “It was him. I swear. He’s not a good person. I need to talk to my father.”

  She tsks. “That is a shame. I think he wanted to blame it on that young man. The one who saved you. Blames him for carelessness.”

  “No!” I say too loudly, causing me to flinch at the pain in my throat. “Jameson would never do something like that. He’s good. And kind. A hard worker. He’s my friend.”

  Aunt Ina’s eyes light up. A small smile tugs on her lips. She puts her cup down and pats my arm. “You don’t need to tell me that. I can see with my own eyes. He’s been in a bit of a fit about you, too. He doesn’t say anything but he’s been hanging out just outside your window. Hasn’t left since he carried you out of that building. If you ask me, I’d say he’s quite smitten with you.”

  “We’re just friends.”

  “It’ll have to stay that way. There’s no way your father would let you be with a boy like that. Beside, you’re too young. When you’re older maybe, but right now you need to keep to yourself.”

  I blush thinking of how I’ve admired Jameson in a way that friends don’t look at each other. But Aunt Ina’s right. I need to just remain his friend. Anything more would only cause Jameson to lose his job. And in this case, his home.

  “Where is he living?”

  “Randall took him in. They’re sharing a room until the carriage house is remade. Now, you just rest.” She adjusts my blankets and settles me in some more.

  “Thank you, Aunt Ina.” My head falls further back into the pillow.

  She stands from her chair and walks toward the door. With her hand on the frame, she turns and looks at me. Her eyes filled with wonder. “You know, sometimes the unlikeliest friendships turn into something more.” Motioning for the nurse, she walks out of the room with the nurse following behind.

  I close my eyes and allow myself to dream about what a life of more could be like.

  ☽

  A creak of the door wakes me up from my sleep. Expecting the nurse, I roll over. Instead of seeing the nurse, I am greeted with the tender, bashful smile of Jameson Brock.

  My cheeks stretch as far as they can. My smile is so big at the sight of my hero.

  “Don’t talk. The doctor said you should rest.” He’s wearing a blue sweater and a pair of jeans. He must have borrowed them from Randall.

  “Your aunt let me up, said I could sit with you for a while.” He leans over and rubs a thumb along my forehead. “I was so scared.”

  “Of the fire?” I ask.

  “For you,” he states. His teeth skim his lip as he continues to rub my head. “I was on the beach watching the stars when I saw the fire. It must have been fate because I arrived just as I saw you climbing out the window. I nearly died when I saw you go back in. I knew you went back for Buddy. It took me forever to get to you.” His voice is shaky and his eyes are glassy in the dark. “I thought I’d lost the one person I look forward to seeing every day.”

  My heart beats wildly. My limbs may feel like jello, but it’s my head that is completely mushed. “You’re a good man, Jameson Brock. I’m honored to call you mine.”

  His face lights up momentarily before his forehead pinches in. “Yours?”

  “My friend,” I state and I know Aunt Ina is right. Even though I know that for the rest of my life I will be unequivocally in-love with Jameson Brock, I can’t do anything about it. Not today at least.

  Lifting the book in his hand he says, “I thought maybe I could read to you.”

  “I’d love that more than anything,” I breathe.

  His blue-green eyes sparkle. He leans over and turns on a lamp beside my bed. Taking a seat on the chair beside me, Jameson opens the book and starts to read, just as I did when he was injured in his bed.

  His voice is low, the tone deep and sinfully soothing. “Beyond the gates and along the path that winds to the castle is trail of the most lush roses he had ever seen. He had never seen anything as beautiful as the red tips of the petals. The blooms flourishing in the graying sky.”

  He’s midsentence when I place my hand on his knee. He stops reading for a moment as he looks at my hand on him. With a small smile, he places his hand on mine and then continues reading.

  As his words drift softly into the night, I glance out the window and see the moon. It’s large and bright, so beautiful and strong in it’s stage. I knew when it was time it would shine bright. I just didn’t know I would love it so much.

  Read the next act in Jules and Jameson’s love story at www.jeanninecolette.com

  About the Author

  Jeannine Colette is the author of the Abandon Collection – a series of stand-alone novels featuring dynamic heroines who abandon their reality in order to discover themselves . . . and love along the way. Each book features a new couple, exciting new city and a rose of a different color.

  She lives in New York with her husband, the three tiny people she adores more than life itself, and a rescue pup named Wrigley.

  ABANDON YOUR REALITY…

  Fall in-love with the ABANDON COLLECTION – A series of stand-alone novels featuring dynamic heroines who abandon their reality in order to discover themselves . . . and love along the way. Each novel in the Abandon Collection follows a new couple, takes place
in an exciting new city and features a rose of a different color.

  Pure Abandon

  Reckless Abandon

  Wild Abandon

  Wild Abandon Christmas

  Sinful Abandon

  A TALE OF a beastly storm that traps a doctor and his secretary in the basement of the hospital they work in—and what happens when old wounds are torn apart and two pasts collide.

  Every Beautiful Piece

  A.M. Johnson

  Except the original material written by the author, all songs, song lyrics, and song titles contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders. The author concedes to the trademarked status and trademark owners of the products mentioned in this fiction novel and recognizes that they have been used without permission. The use and publication of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or events is entirely coincidental.

  CHAPTER ONE

  EVANGELINE BELL WAS always good at being invisible, at least, that’s what she told herself. Ever since grade school, she always fell beneath the radar, every little nuance, every little shimmer, she quelled with her silence, her shyness, with her inability to raise her head and meet a stranger’s eyes. Tonight was no different. The operating room was busy, the heavy storm that had blown in from the coast was creating waves in the streets, nearly impassable, the on-call nurses had muttered to each other as they’d removed their raincoats and headed to the locker rooms earlier that evening. Evangeline, as usual, kept her head down through all the commotion. Her job as an OR clerk offered little disturbance to her solitary way of life. She wasn’t obligated to talk to anyone beyond the capacity required of her title on most nights and that suited her just fine.

  She continued to put the charts together with ink-stained fingers. She’d been forced to use the “old beast” to stamp patient labels and wrist bands, because just her luck, the printer had finally given way to its last breath tonight. The sleek and modern printer the office manager had purchased last week hadn’t been delivered yet. The “old beast” was loud enough it’d given her a headache every time she lowered the heavy stamping mechanism down onto the paper. The roll inside stamped patient information with only a little bit of black smudging around the edges of the paper.

  “Dr. Prince is finished in OR one. He’s washing up and scrubbing in to help Dr. Lance in OR two, is the chart ready?” Cherry, one of the nurses on-call, had just arrived not twenty minutes ago, looking bright and happy, her voice and smile never dampened by the mood of the room or even Dr. Prince.

  Dr. Lucas Prince was more of a beast than the old labeler, Evangeline thought to herself as she placed the last consent form into the chart. She snapped the three rings closed and handed it to Nurse Cherry with just a nod of the head.

  “One of these days, Eva, I’ll get you to tell me all of your secrets.” Cherry smiled and Eva did, as well.

  “Maybe,” she teased just as the lights flickered with a large boom of thunder.

  “Dear God, at least we have generators, this storm is the worst we’ve had in years.” Cherry’s pink cheeks didn’t dim with her assessment of the weather.

  Cherry was right though, the nor’easter was whipping through Cape Ann and Rockport faster than anyone had prepared for. Essex County was neither a stranger to these types of storms, nor were its residents, but Eva had just moved into her apartment this summer, and she was still adjusting. October was cold enough already, without the wind, rain, sleet, and possible snow. She shivered at the thought as she eased back into her chair, and flicked her eyes to the clock. Three more hours of this shift and she would have to brave the walk home. It was only a mile, and in normal circumstances, the walk from County Central Medical Center was actually her favorite part of the day. No doctors to answer to, no nosy nurses trying to wheedle their way into her life. Just miles of starlit sky to gaze into on her stroll through the small-town streets. Tonight she’d brought an umbrella and a thin windbreaker. She turned her head to watch the wind beat the ice against the waiting room window and sighed. It was going to be a long mile home.

  ****

  It shouldn’t bother him, death was death. Sometimes there wasn’t anything anyone could do to pay that debt back to the universe. There was no price that could be paid to the gods, to God… to death, when He came for you. Most doctors, especially surgeons, didn’t think like this. But he knew better. He’d seen his own death, hers… theirs. Lucas looked at himself in his locker mirror. His blue eyes had a burst of green around the pupils that appeared more evident in the low light, the dark circles that underlined them were proof enough to his colleagues that maybe he should’ve called it a day on trauma number two. But it wasn’t his fault. People die. Everyone died at some point.

  He raised his hand to the breast pocket of his green surgical scrubs and used the pad of his thumb to trace the outline of Rose’s picture.

  Everyone dies… and there wasn’t a damn thing any of these cocky fucks could do about it. He slammed his locker shut as the thought roared in his head.

  “Prince, they need you in OR two.” John, one of his friends, a scrub tech, the only one he really trusted around here, stood in the doorway looking at Lucas with weary and tired eyes. Eyes that mirrored his own.

  This damn night… this storm.

  It seemed there was no end in sight.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  John nodded and cleared his throat before he winced and said, “Maybe just scrub in for an hour, you look wasted and I heard—”

  “The man was dead when he got here, the car practically crushed him.” Dr. Lucas Prince narrowed his eyes at John, begging, daring him. Lucas’s jaw clenched—the muscle feathered under his skin—his shoulders were edged and ready for the argument.

  Say it. Say what you want to say. I was distracted, tired… say it.

  John just nodded.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “Okay.” John didn’t look back at Dr. Prince as he left.

  ****

  He’d scrubbed in for thirty minutes, and it was all that had been needed to help fix the mess his new associate had made of a simple appendectomy. Now, Lucas lingered under the heat of the water letting the steam in the shower fill the empty space of the locker room. Everyone had already headed home to their families. The storm was only expected to get worse, no one wanted to linger, no one but him. Lucas had showered and dried off before the steam had evaporated. He could have easily showered at home, but the weather worried at his gut, threatening memories that needed to be kept silent, at least until he was home, and in the cool dark of his own space. His fingers began to shake as he buttoned up his shirt. The gnarled and raised pink flesh of his chest, his arms, his scars… the burns were all hidden beneath the stiff, white cotton. The phantom pain spread along his skin as the material rubbed against him.

  He closed his eyes and the bright orange flames of the past consumed him as the wind hammered against the walls of the hospital. The sound of the sleet scraping along the skylight above him caused a shudder to run down his spine. Dr. Prince allowed his eyes to open, allowed himself to forget it all as he grabbed the dirty surgical scrubs he’d worn all day and threw them into the soiled linen bag. He didn’t waste any more time in self-pity as he donned his jacket and grabbed his bag.

  The walk to his SUV wasn’t too far, he was a doctor, and had front row parking, but as he walked through the locker room door, the exhaustion hit him. The girl at the nurse’s station had her head dow
n in a book, as usual. Her dark brown hair curtained her face as he walked by. He was grateful for her shyness, her awkward sociability, he didn’t like talking to people unless it was necessary. After everything, after that one tragic night, people had lost their luster. And life, it was just something he did to get by, to move on.

  “Goodnight, sir, stay safe out there.” Her voice, too soft, too feminine, stopped him mid-stride.

  He almost kept going, almost ignored her as always, but instead he turned and looked at her. Her brown eyes were big but obscured behind black-rimmed glasses that had slid down her slim nose. She wore red scrubs, the color reflected in her cheeks, and instead of looking down, she was staring right at him with parted lips. Waiting…

  He swallowed as he shifted his gaze to hers. “You, too.”

  She didn’t smile, but something eased in her shoulders as she said, “Thanks.”

  A large crash of thunder sounded and he exhaled a rough breath. The walk to his car would be brutal. He didn’t smile either as he turned to leave, didn’t say goodbye as he walked out of the OR waiting room. He didn’t give the secretary behind the desk another flicker of thought as the frozen air hit his face. The wind shredded through his coat, and as the wet slush gathered at his collar he broke into a jog. By the time he reached his car, the sleet had turned to snow. Lucas’s pants were damp, and his dress shoes ruined as he climbed into the front seat of his SUV. The snow poured in before he slammed the door. His hands shuffled through his bag as he searched for his wallet and keys. First, he turned the key in the ignition and cranked the heat. Then, like every night, he opened his wallet to look at her. To say sorry again, to ask her— them—for forgiveness. Tonight, maybe he’d ask for protection, too.