Changing For You: A New Adult Contemporary Romance (Anything For You Book 1)

by Hopkins, Faleena

  The ambulance doors are just about to shut me out. Brendan’s inside with oxygen being pumped into him through a mask.

  “Please!” I grab the door and fight her for it.

  “You can’t ride with us. I’m sorry,” the female E.M.T. says, struggling with me.

  Thinking quick, I blurt out, “I’m hurt, too!” She’s taken aback. Regret flashes across her face at her mistake. She holds the door open and I climb in. “Thank you!”

  “We’re taking her to the hospital. She’s hurt.” She hurriedly tells the chasing policeman who nods as she closes the door. Sitting down next to her, I take Brendan’s hand and watch his unconscious face. The siren switches on. Our bodies sway with speeding twists and turns through traffic, like a jerking, grotesque dance to music no one wants to listen to.

  The E.M.T.s - one male, one female, plus a male driver – are all in their early thirties with arms that belie the strength it takes to do a job like this every day. The female pokes and prods me while I stare at Brendan. All of them remain faceless. It feels like I’m not really here.

  “Where are you hurt?”

  With my eyes fixed on him, I mumble. “I’m not.” She frowns and shares a look with her partner. “You’d do the same thing.”

  She places her thumb and forefinger on his wrist to monitor his pulse, muttering, “I don’t think I would have been so quick-thinking.”

  “Is he going to be okay?” Even as I hear the question, I know they don’t know. They can’t possibly. But I want hope. I can’t believe I didn’t lock the door. I can’t believe the gunman pulled the trigger. I can’t believe Brendan saved my life. I can’t believe he’s dying. None of this seems real. It can’t be. The night turned from a dream to a nightmare.

  “We’re doing everything we can,” the male says to me.

  “You always say that.”

  “And we always do it.”

  My eyes flutter over to his face. Resolutely he looks back. They are doing everything they can.

  I look back to the mask covering Brendan’s mouth and nose, to his eyes shut gently like he’s sleeping, to the paleness of his skin. “Please stay with me, Brendan. Please stay.” Arms go around my shoulders. The female E.M.T. holds me. The human tenderness is crushing, breaking down the wall of shock. Everything starts to spin.

  She looks to the driver. “Can you go any faster, John?”

  He looks back and gives a brief nod, but we all know he’s going as fast as he can. Nausea overtakes me. My vision blurs and I see the male E.M.T.s mouth move. I don’t hear him as he says, “She’s down.”

  Chapter 33

  Brendan

  So tired. But it’s a good tired. When: Three Years ago.

  A persistent stream of sunlight heats up my face, trying to wake me out of a dream. But I resist it. I’m having that reoccurring dream again where I’m walking through a field in Italy. No one is there, but I keep searching, compelled. It’s beautiful and peaceful and I don’t want to leave. The wind rises and something brushes my bottom lip. I touch it, thinking it was just the wind, and find a hand there. Soft fingers…

  “Hey you. You have a coffee maker?” A feminine arm slides around my waist in the real world. Reluctantly I awaken, feeling a naked body sliding up close against my back, spooning me. My shoulder gets kissed twice. “I was thinking of getting up and making some, but I don’t know my way around your kitchen.”

  I stare forward out my window, thinking I want to move soon. This place is getting to be too small. I need to rise up in the company fast, if I’m going to afford it. Plus I’m still thinking about the dream. I want to go back to sleep, but that’s not an option. “Yeah, I have one.” I roll around to face Rebecca, see her looking beautiful with no makeup or need for it. “Morning.”

  A slow sexy smile spreads across her lips. She accepts a kiss from me and murmurs into my hair, as she presses herself against me, “What a surprise to see you again.”

  I laugh. “Oh, you saw me alright.”

  “Yes, I did, didn’t I?”

  “That you did. Since this is your first time here, I’ll make the coffee. But after that, if we ever do this again, it’s all you.” I kiss her again, and climb out of bed, my cock bouncing with my walk as I rub my eyes and rake a hand through my hair.

  Rebecca watches me, but I don’t know it. I’m thinking of one thing and one thing only. Coffee. Make the coffee and separate from the dream world, so I can shake this feeling of emptiness that dream always leaves me with.

  Within a couple minutes, Rebecca joins me, wearing her shirt and panties and nothing else, her long dark hair still tousled. She takes a seat at the small dining room table, picks up the donkey shaped saltshaker and plays with it. “So, how’ve you been?”

  I pour beans into the grinder. “Since Mendocino? I’ve been good. Moved in here with my buddy Mark right after I met you. Got a job at the Ad agency I’m working at, but I’ve got my eye on another job higher up.”

  “Yeah?” She smiles, curious and interested. I know she’s gotta be almost forty, but she sure wears it well. “Where?”

  I hit the grind button and pause for the four seconds it takes to finish. “Location Times Three.” Pouring the grounds into the French Press, I add, “I’ve been taking some risks where I am now, coming up with new ideas they didn’t see coming. Word is spreading, that’s what I hear. I think now’s my shot. I’m aiming for Creative Director.”

  She leans back, puts the donkey back on the table. “That’s a big leap, isn’t it?”

  I glance at her. “Yeah. So?”

  She shrugs, looks away. “Well, you’re pretty young.”

  Staring at the water pouring from the faucet, I say again, “So?”

  “Don’t get upset.” She rises and comes up behind me to hold me and rest her head on my back. “I forget you’re so amazing you can do anything.”

  I chuckle and cover her hand with mine, put the teapot on the stove and turn it on for boiling. I should have done this first. But I’m not used to having someone here with me in the morning.

  We ran into each other at a fundraiser last night where Rebecca had flown in from Arizona to participate. I’d seen her first, gone up and surprised her. Wearing a very graceful suit that reminded me of Katherine Hepburn, she looked around the party holding a glass of champagne in her hand. It was obvious she didn’t know anyone. I sidled up behind her, leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Kiss behind any trees recently?” She’d started, then her body relaxed. She slowly turned and smiled at me.

  “Well, I never thought I’d see you again.” Her gaze sketched quickly down my suit and rose again. “Decided to get rid of the jeans and no shirt ensemble?”

  I laughed. “I’ll be wearing that later.”

  Her eyebrows went up and her eyes lit up with sensual fire. “You don’t say.”

  “You want to have proof? Unless you’re still married, that is.” I leaned against the wall, and waited for an answer.

  She paused. “Divorce went through a year ago. Finally free.” Her eyes clouded over. “Is that why you left without saying goodbye?”

  “Looks like you’re out of champagne. Let’s get you some more.”

  She took the hint and didn’t push it. We came back to my place well before the party ended and fucked until about four hours ago. I need more sleep, but I’ll manage.

  “I never got that champagne by the way,” she teases me, jumping up to sit on the counter as the water comes to a boil.

  I pull out two coffee cups with very large handles. “I gave you something else instead so stop complaining.”

  She laughs. “Yes sir. Sorry sir. My mistake, sir.”

  I smirk and pour water over the grounds, pressing the knob down to let them soak. “Oh, this is gonna be good coffee.”

  Her legs swing. “I love that we’re both naked. Where’s your roommate?”

  “With a woman.”

  “How do you know?”

  I throw her a look.

&n
bsp; “Oh. That predictable huh? So… what do you want to do today?”

  I freeze, tensing immediately. “Rebecca.”

  “Uh oh.” Her legs stop swinging.

  I rest my hand on the counter, put my weight on it. “I’m not looking for anything serious.”

  She regards me, not sure at first how she feels about this, but then she shakes it off with a smile. “I live in Arizona, Brendan. And I’m a free woman. Do you think I want to shackle myself to some twenty five year old?”

  “I’m twenty-seven.”

  “Well, then let’s get married!” She laughs, obviously joking. “Please. Give me more credit.”

  “I’m giving me more credit. I’m pretty sure you’re going to get attached and I’m warning you not to.” There is no smile on my face. I want to be very clear about this.

  She gives me a look like I’m being ridiculous, but I can see it hit her, and she’s covering a little shock. She’s a beautiful woman. I’m sure men are probably falling at her feet now that she’s dropped the ball and chain. I don’t want to turn her away. I just don’t want to get that close. There’s a difference.

  “Do you want me to leave,” she asks, from behind a forced smile.

  “No. I don’t. I just want you to know where I stand so you can live in reality. I like you, that’s why I’m telling you this. I didn’t have to let you spend the night.”

  She whoops loudly, shocked and amazed. “Let me spend the night? Let me? Oh man. You have an ego on you! Were you like this two years ago?”

  I pour the coffee for us, holding the lid on the press and pouring carefully. “No. I was a naïve kid who’d just broken up with his longtime girlfriend. It took me awhile to become a dick. But I’m there now.” I throw her a wink.

  She shakes her head, unable to resist me. Taking the extended cup from my hands, she blows on it, looking at me over it. “Well, I’ve been warned. Now what do you want to do today?”

  “What’s your last name, by the way?”

  “Wells. Why?”

  “I’ve got a thing about knowing names of the women I sleep with.” I take a drink of the coffee, lick my lips. It’s good stuff. “Let’s go to Fisherman’s Warf. I’ll introduce you to a sourdough bread bowl of clam chowder you’ve never dreamed possible.”

  She swings her legs a little again, smiling and looking very sexy as she pulls her hair up into a bun. “Deal.”

  A voice filters in from far away. Feminine, soft and caring. “Hey you. You have a coffee maker?”

  I open my eyes halfway; see a hospital room coming into focus. It’s all I can manage. “Rebecca,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

  “I’m here. You’re okay. It’s going to be okay.”

  I strain to understand what’s happening, where I am, why I hurt so badly. Images start flashing before my eyes. Annie’s face. Her eyes closing. My body collapsing into one of the best orgasms I’ve ever felt. Holding her. Then the gunman. The yelling. The grabbing of our clothes. How he pointed the gun at her while she went to register. How furious I was that I didn’t know how to open it so I could get it myself and keep her safe. How I saw his arm tighten, about to pull the trigger. I remember jumping in front of the bullet. Nothing after that.

  Too tired to move my head, I scan around me to find my body under a plain white blanket, cords leading out to an I.V. drip and a heart monitor. I focus back on Rebecca, the only soft thing in the room.

  She smiles and touches my hand, picking it up and holding it in both of hers. “The hospital called me last night when you came in. I drove here immediately.”

  “You drove all the way from Arizona?”

  “There were no flights until morning. I couldn’t wait. See, I told you it was a good idea to add me as an emergency contact. How are you feeling?”

  “Like shit.” I close my eyes. “Thank you for coming.”

  “What are friends for?” She rubs my hand, knowing we’re more than friends.

  These drugs they’ve given me are hardcore. Where are my clothes? Where do they put your clothes when they put you in these gowns? Am I paralyzed? I wiggle my toes, relaxing with relief when I feel them move.

  “I feel someone ran over me,” I whisper, frowning at Rebecca and wincing from the pain in my ribs.

  “You were in surgery for over five hours. The bullet scraped your lung but they were able to save it. It’s going to be some time before you’re well again.

  “That’s not possible. I have work…”

  She applies gentle pressure to my hand. “Shhh. Stay calm. You need to rest. Think about all that later.”

  I close my eyes. I feel so strange and foggy. An image drifts in from far away of Annie kissing me and holding my head. Sirens. I remember sirens, too. I must be remembering something from after I got shot. Cracking my eyes open again with effort, I ask, “Where’s Annie?”

  Chapter 34

  Annie

  Florescent light: right above me. Cognizance: straining. My line of vision: filled with doctors.

  “She’s back,” one says to the other.

  “How’re you feeling?” the other says.

  “Fine. I think I just…”

  “You fainted,” they say over me. I’m not even sure I spoke. I feel weird. Suddenly I sit up, but they push me back down. “Now now.”

  “Where’s Brendan?” I’m in a hospital hallway. People are walking by us, some sick, some working. “Where is he? Is he alive?”

  The one looks to the other and leaves her to it. She checks my pulse, blinking too much.

  “He’s in surgery. His lung was punctured.”

  I drop my head onto the gurney. “Oh no.” I try to get up again. “I’m fine. I wasn’t shot. I have to go see him.” I throw my legs off and am about to stand when she grabs me by the arms.

  “You need to rest.”

  It’s obvious arguing isn’t going to do me any good, so I nod and lay back down.

  “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.” She looks at me for affirmation.

  “Sure. Okay. I’ll be right here.”

  The second she’s out of sight, I climb off the gurney and head to the information desk. “Where is Brendan Clark’s surgery room?”

  The nurse looks up at me, her eyes flickering to my hands. I look down to see they’re covered with dark, dried blood. I look at her again, unashamed, my eyebrows saying, well? She frowns and looks at her computer. Reading it, she says, “The only thing I can tell you is that he’s not going to be out for awhile and after that he’ll be in the ICU, not able see anyone but family or those listed on his emergency contacts. Are you Mrs. Wells?”

  I blink, not understanding the question. “No, I’m Annie O’Brien. He was at my bar when he was shot. I have to make sure he’s okay. For insurance reasons.”

  She eyes me like she knows that’s not the reason. “Well, you won’t be able to visit him until visiting hours.”

  I interrupt her from saying more. “I’ll wait. Will you please tell the doctors I’m here so they can come and tell me how he is? I want to know as soon as he’s out.”

  As she watches me, I walk to a chair and sit down. I raise my eyebrows at her and she shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

  The next five hours are the longest of my life. Staring at the T.V. set and seeing nothing but moving images and blurred sound, I hear a voice next to me say, “It’s almost 10 a.m. You want a bagel or some coffee?”

  I look over. An older gentleman, maybe sixty, is pointing toward what must be the direction of cafeteria. “At least some coffee? You look like you don’t want to sleep.”

  I blink, and give my eyes a good rub. “Oh, um… that would be great. Thank you.”

  I have no sense of time now. He comes back and it feels like he just left. “Here you go.” I take it and stare at the warm, paper coffee cup. “It needs a second to cool down anyway so take your time.” His voice is kind.

  “Thank you.” My eyes return to him.

  “Who’s hurt?” he asks.

/>   I raise my eyebrows, surprised. He motions to my hands. “Oh!” I stare at the dark stains and wonder why I’m not disgusted. It occurs to me that women are probably made to handle a lot when we care about someone.

  “Do you want to wash those?” His voice is soft and gentle, like he’s talking to a tiny stray dog whose ribs are showing, it’s so fragile.

  “I guess I should.”

  The door opens and we both look over to see a doctor approaching, his focus solely on me. My heart stops. I try to stand and find that my legs won’t hold me, so I slide back down into the chair, not taking my eyes off his face. He smiles. My blood starts rushing again as relief begs me to have hope. But I need to hear him say it.

  “He’s going to be okay.”

  I exhale and sink down deeper, staring at the floor. “He’s going to be okay? Really?”

  The surgeon smiles, happy to have good news to report. “Yes. The bullet missed his vital organs. It grazed his right lung, so we had to repair that, but he’s young. And he’s healthy, so he should recover nicely.”

  “So it wasn’t punctured?” I rise up and hug him. “Thank you!”

  He pats me on the back because I won’t let go. “It’s always good to give good news.”

  “What can I see him?”

  “As soon as he’s out of the I.C.U. That won’t be for a few hours. Until then, Mrs. Wells, he can’t have visitors.”

  I was nodding until he called me that. “I’m not Mrs. Wells.” Kicking myself for speaking so soon, I add, half-joking, “Unless it’ll get me in there.”

  The surgeon looks from me to the gentleman who brought me coffee. “Oh. I just assumed. Mrs. Wells is listed as Mr. Clark’s emergency contact in our records.”

  “It must be his mother, then. I’m his…” I stop, realizing I’m not really anything to him in terms of a title. “I own the bar where he was shot. I guess I’m his friend.”