I hurried toward Dad’s room as Nan’s voice floated out. “Breathe.”
Afraid to go in, I stopped short, gulping in air as if I were the one who couldn’t breathe.
Dad finally grunted out a choking sound and coughed again.
Instantly, tears burned my eyes. The neurologist had told us that choking was a major problem with ALS patients and one of the ways Dad could die.
Please don’t let this be the day. Please, God.
I rolled back my shoulders and dug deep for that courage Dad always said I had. No amount of bravery could quiet or stop the turbulent emotions swirling inside me.
Dad coughed hard.
“That’s it,” Nan said. “One more time.” Then the suction machine, a device that had been a lifesaver when food got lodged in his throat, whirred.
I flattened my back against the wall outside his door. A tear dropped, followed by another and another.
Dad gagged one last time.
The suction machine continued, and when Nan finally shut it off, she asked, “Better?”
I wiped my face with my shirt. Episodes like that were becoming the norm, no matter how much we pureed his food.
I plastered on a happy face as best I could, then slipped in quietly. As soon as Dad laid eyes on me, he lit up as though he hadn’t just hacked up a lung. Suddenly, my heart opened and my stomach settled.
Nan appeared flustered, and I couldn’t blame her. “You’re home early. Did you go to the beach with Mia and Georgia?”
“I changed my mind.” I wanted to be there when Colton came over. We hadn’t discussed a time, and if I knew my friends, they would be at the beach until the sun went down. Plus I wanted to spend time with Dad before Colton made me into a complete bag of nerves.
Nan cleared his table. “I need to tidy up the kitchen.” She collected a towel and placed it on top of the dirty plate. Then she left without another word.
I squeezed Dad’s toes, which were poking out of the cushioned boots he wore to elevate his legs and reduce the fluid buildup. “Are you good?”
He blinked once, which was our code for yes. Then he eyed his computer, which was tucked off to the side near the window.
I swung the arm of the stand in front of him and hit the power button. “Our old house is up for sale.” I’d planned on telling him the night before, but he was asleep when I got home.
He lifted his eyebrows before he focused on the computer screen. Then he blinked as he typed with his eyes. “How much is the house selling for?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just saw the sign.” I didn’t think he had the money to buy it back. “So Colton is stopping by later. I’ll ask him to help me with the Toyota.”
“Are you and Colton studying? Do you have the same classes?” the computer voice asked.
“No. I busted a wheel on my board,” I said. “I’m going to see if he can fix it.”
Dad’s gaze flicked to my elbow, and within a minute the computer voice said, “You fell. Is that what happened to your arm?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, hoping he didn’t ask more questions. I didn’t want to explain how Colton had rammed his truck into me.
Concern washed over Dad.
“Dad, falling comes with the sport. You know that.” I showed him my elbow. I still had a Band-Aid on it. “It’s nothing. I’m a tough cookie. Isn’t that what you tell me all the time?”
He gave me a proud smile, which I was going to miss. “Do you need money to buy a new wheel?”
“Not yet. I’ll see what Colton can do first.” I prayed he could fix it. “So did you aspirate earlier?” I wanted to change the subject. The more we talked about Colton, the more my stomach twisted.
“Don’t worry about me,” he typed.
I huffed. “I will. I don’t want to lose you, Dad.” I knew that was an odd statement, given that he would die sooner rather than later, but I wanted him around as long as possible. I at least wanted him to see me graduate.
He turned red as he frowned, his bottom lip quivering.
I grabbed his cold hand. “Don’t start. It’s No-Crying Tuesday.” I smiled even though I was gutted inside and ready to bawl again.
He began typing. “My sister sent me a message today. She’ll be here on Saturday.”
Well, crap. I’d kind of forgotten about her. My stomach tumbled, and a nauseous feeling settled inside.
The doorbell rang. I was tempted to answer it to avoid the subject, but Nan would beat me to it.
My pesky nerves were dancing up a storm as footsteps clamored down the hall. Nan laughed at something Colton said.
His deep voice was smooth as silk and causing all kinds of goosebumps to pop to attention on my arms. When he sauntered in, he seemed taller and bigger than I remembered. Or maybe the ceiling was too low for his height. His tattered jeans hung low on his hips, and his Blue Oaks High T-shirt stretched across his muscled chest. His hair was damp from a recent shower, I imagined, and he had the beginnings of scruff along his jaw.
The word “yum” blared in my head, and I had to stifle a moan.
He ambled up to Dad with his arm extended. “Mr. Lawson, good to see you again.”
“My dad can’t shake hands.”
Colton lowered his arm with a smidge of confusion swimming in his gaze.
I didn’t know how much he knew of ALS, or what his mom had told him. “He has no use of his hands anymore.”
Colton's features relaxed, and sadness flashed in his eyes. That was a typical reaction when anyone met Dad.
Dad typed in, “Nice to see you too. Are you happy to be home?”
Colton winced at Dad’s question. “I miss my friends.” Then he regarded me. “I’m sorry I hit your daughter with my truck. She came out of nowhere.”
My breath hitched, and I shook my head at Colton.
He bit his bottom lip. “You didn’t tell him?”
Nan, who had been quiet up until then, cleared her throat as she pushed off the door. “I need to reposition your dad in bed. I made some iced tea. Why don’t you and Colton get some?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dad’s stern look as he entered words into his speaking program.
Nan placed her hand on my shoulder. “Go. You can explain later.”
I was grateful for Nan and how she was trying to downplay the situation, but I wasn’t moving. I knew better. It was one thing to avoid tough conversations about the future, which I knew Dad understood. But getting hit by a car wasn’t something Dad would brush off or take lightly.
“Skye, what is Colton talking about?” Dad asked.
I might as well get this over with. “I’m fine, Dad. It was nothing.”
“Is that how you hurt your elbow?” Nan asked, seemingly forgetting that she was trying to come to my rescue.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How many times have I told you to be careful and pay attention? Did you have your earbuds in?” Dad asked.
I couldn’t remember if I did or didn’t, so I shrugged. “I don’t think so. It’s just a scratch, Dad.” I kept my voice soft. I didn’t want to argue. Normally I would have. Dad and I had had several arguments about skateboard safety.
Dad narrowed his eyes. Even though he couldn’t reprimand me in his hard tone, I knew better. Just that fatherly look made me hear his words as if he were speaking. “Young lady, how many times have I told you?”
I hadn’t fallen at the skate park or outside in the driveway. I’d gotten hit by a truck—or rather tapped, which was the way I looked at it.
Colton rescued me. “It was my fault, Mr. Lawson.”
Dad was busy typing with his eyes. “Admirable, son. But my daughter knows not to skate around traffic or cars.”
I hung my head briefly, ashamed that Dad was scolding me in front of Colton. Georgia would have been no big deal, but a boy—and one I had a crush on—was horrifying.
“Randall,” Nan said. “Let’s get you ready for the night.”
That was m
y cue to leave. I blew Dad a kiss, then eyed Colton, giving him a silent message to follow me.
But he didn’t budge.
“Colton,” I said.
His six-foot-plus frame seemed frozen like a statue. “I’m sorry, sir.” The undertones in his voice led me to believe he was not only sorry for hitting me, but for Dad’s ALS.
“Colton,” I said again, but the computer voice filled the room.
“Can you help Skye change the oil on her car?” Dad asked.
Colton lowered his shoulders, which had been almost up to his ears. “Yes, sir. Maybe not tonight, though.”
“Perfect. Whenever you can,” the computer voice said.
Every fiber in me wanted to take that voice and throw it out the window. I should have been used to it, but I wasn’t. Not in the freaking least. I wanted to hear Dad’s voice. I would give anything for that.
“Go,” Nan said to Colton. “I need to take care of Mr. Lawson.”
Colton gave them a quick nod before his long legs ate up the space between us. Then he placed his hand on my lower back, and I thought I would melt as my mouth became bone-dry.
I was about to be alone with Colton Caldwell, and I was sure I would be a blubbering idiot.
9
My two-car garage was extremely confining and suffocating even though the space was large. We only had one car, and it was outside.
Colton glanced around as if cataloging what he wanted to steal. I had no clue why I was thinking about him taking stuff. He didn’t look like a criminal. Then again, I knew very little about the six-foot-tall hunk of a guy who made my heart race for the darn end zone.
I licked my lips as I shuffled over to my side of the garage. Yep, I had my own area, complete with a locker and skateboard gear and other stuff like a toolbox, which Dad had put together for me.
Yet the small distance between the gorgeous specimen and me wasn’t enough. I was on the verge of hyperventilating.
Colton sauntered up to Dad’s workbench, which traveled the length of the garage. “Your dad has a great arsenal of tools here. Was he a mechanic or something?”
I clutched the edge of my own wooden bench, which was small compared to Dad’s. “Something like that. He worked in the power industry before he…” I sighed. I didn’t want to talk about Dad. I was tired of explaining ALS or even thinking about the awful disease.
Colton whirled around like a hurricane that came out of nowhere. “I thought you told your dad about me hitting you with my truck.” He roughed a hand through his long locks, and I badly wanted to be that hand. I liked his hair down rather than tied back, although he was handsome no matter how he wore it. “He’s probably going to tell my mom.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Then she’ll tell my old man.” Pain blended with something far darker than anger.
“I’ll tell him not to.”
With his right hand, he grabbed his left triceps, which peeked through the sleeve of his T-shirt. “It doesn’t matter.” His words definitely didn’t match the scowl he was sporting.
I angled my head. “Yeah, it does. I saw the fight with your dad.” Way to go, Skyler. Stick foot in mouth. Now he’ll think you’re a nosy neighbor.
He flinched, shock dripping off him for a split second before he banked his emotions. “So as I told your dad, I don’t have time to work on your car tonight. Was that your proposition?” His tone was a tad harsh, reminding me of Grady in a way.
I clenched my teeth as I pushed my back into the bench, hoping it would swallow me. Otherwise, I would be tempted to do something that would only serve to break my hand. His abs were made of stone. His jaw was, too. And I wasn’t the one making him furious—that medal went to his dad, or so I hoped.
I crossed my arms over my chest so he wouldn’t see my hands shaking. Colton unnerved me in a good way. However, I didn’t want to be around someone who would take his crap out on me. I didn’t put up with Grady’s shit, and I certainly wasn’t about to tolerate any wrath from Colton, no matter how he stirred the woman inside me to want to climb him like a monkey.
Oh my word! Shut up, Skyler.
“Spending time with your girlfriend?” I held my breath. Why the heck am I spouting off? Stupid, stupid girl.
His eyes became slits as fire brimmed in their depths. “Something like that.”
My cheeks burned like a house up in flames. I was ready to scream at the top of my lungs.
He strutted toward me like a lion about to attack his prey.
That breath I was holding was making me dizzy. Or maybe it was his cologne or soap. The closer he came, the dizzier I got. Pheromones be damned.
My pulse ramped up and I thought about running. I wasn’t afraid of him, but of me. I was afraid I would do something foolish like attack him.
He came to an abrupt halt about a foot from me, as though he was the one who was scared.
I was ready to expel the air in my lungs until he took one step, then another, before he was standing in my personal space. He lowered his head, studying me as if I was a science experiment.
I looked at the shiny floor Dad had painted last year.
Then he leaned in, his muscular arms going around me as though he were caging me in.
Holy hell. I swallowed the desert of sand in my mouth.
His hair tickled my cheek as his broad chest barely kissed mine.
I whimpered, a sound I prayed he didn’t hear. I closed my eyes, wanting to disappear. No, scratch that. I wanted to rub my hands all over him.
His warm breath tickled my ear. “Breathe, Skyler.” His voice was husky, and I shivered. “I’m just getting your skateboard.” As he did, his body brushed mine.
I willed myself to stay still and my lady parts to calm the heck down.
His fingers landed under my chin. “You can open your eyes now.”
When I did, he was examining the wheel on my board.
I slid off to the side, letting out the air in my lungs. “Can you fix it?” That was the proposition I had for him, but somehow, all thought escaped me.
“Mmm,” he said. “It looks like you’ll need a new wheelbase.” He continued to examine the shark with jagged teeth, big eyes, and red jaw I’d painted on the bottom. “Cool drawing.”
I shook off the myriad of feelings coursing through me, or tried to, as I zeroed in on my board. “Thanks.”
“Are you any good on this thing?” he asked.
“Not Olympic good, but I can hold my own. Why? Do you skate?”
“My younger brother did.” His hand began to shake.
Somehow, I found the courage and erased the small space between us. I wasn’t sure of what to say or do. I only knew his brother died in a drowning accident. But something told me not to say a word.
“Actions speak louder than any words,” Mom had always said.
So I gently placed my hand over his and held it there.
He froze as we locked eyes. We didn’t need words. I hoped he saw my empathy and sympathy. I knew what it was like to lose a loved one, and until a person went through a death, they didn’t understand.
“I lost my mom,” I said on a whisper.
Despair washed over him, sending a zap of pain to my heart. Then his chest heaved, and he withdrew his hand. “I've got to run. Do you mind if I take this with me? I’ll see if I can pick up a new wheelbase for you.”
He could take me instead. “Go ahead.” I couldn’t use it, anyway.
With my most precious possession in his grasp, he headed for the door, when his phone rang, the sound blaring in the carless garage. He stopped to answer. “Yeah.”
Amanda’s squeaky voice came through loud and clear, as though he had her on speaker.
I ground my back teeth.
He watched me intently as he listened to Amanda prattle on about being on time for something.
I snarled, not caring that I was laying my cards on the table.
A slow, wolfish grin emerged on those thick lips of his, making my freaking heart beat out of control.
I had no idea what was happening between us, but whatever it was had to stop. He was dating Amanda, and I wasn’t a relationship breaker.
“I’m on my way,” he said to Amanda. “Let Grady know I’ll bring the beer.” Then he pocketed his phone.
One of my eyebrows climbed up to my hairline. “Drinking like your dad?” Oh, for fuck’s sake. Shut up, Skyler.
He ambled toward me with a sense of purpose. Yeah, that purpose was probably to cut out my tongue. I wouldn’t blame him.
Once we were toe-to-toe, he brushed strands of my bangs off my forehead. “Grady thinks you were prettier with long hair.”
A gasp lodged in my throat. The word “kill” skipped through my brain like a bubbly child on her way to school. Only I wasn’t happy. I was ready to end Grady once and for all.
I lifted my chin, wondering if Colton agreed with Grady or if he even remembered me in our freshman year. “Is that so? Did you know that Grady is a first-class dick? And that if you keep hanging around him, you might fall into that category too?” Those words didn’t slip out unexpectedly. I was never more serious, and if he did take after Grady, then good looks or not, he wasn’t the guy for me.
One side of his lips turned upward as he leaned into my ear. “Have a good night, Skyler.” Then he slowly dragged his scruffy jaw along my smooth one.
I held back a whimper. Damn guy. Damn heart. Damn hormones.
Carrying my skateboard, he strutted out without even a backward glance. His swagger affected me in all the right places… or the wrong ones, if he turned out to be a prick.
10
Stella purred as she settled next to me on my extra pillow. I flipped onto my stomach, trying to get comfortable. Then I turned on my back. “Argh!” Kicking off the covers, I combed my fingers through my short strands.
Grady’s comment had been bothering me all night. I was prettier with long hair. I growled, when I really wanted to hunt Grady down and give him a piece of my mind.
I couldn’t get that line out of my darn head, and I was dying to know if Colton agreed with the asshat.
Crazy For You Page 6