by C. M. Albert
“I hate to say goodbye, but I like to watch him go,” Rosalie said, laughing. “My God that man is fine. I think I’m going to make my move tonight.” She stood up, her youthful frame vibrating with anticipation.
“Isn’t Mitch a little too old for you, Rosalie?” I asked. “You’re what? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? I think he’s older than your brother.” I couldn’t help but compare Mitch’s age to Brecken’s, hoping Rosalie would take the hint.
“Yeah, he has a few years on Brecken, but that’s okay. You know me—I’m drawn to older souls,” she said, laughing at herself and her profession. “Always have been. Do you know I slept with my high-school gym teacher?” she admitted in a low whisper. “The guy had twenty years on me. It was so hot.”
She turned to grab the coffee pot, refilling a customer’s mug a few seats down. She was observant. I hadn’t even heard him ask for a refill.
“Thanks, Rosalie, you always seem to know what I want before I can say it,” the old man said, lifting his mug to his sunken-in mouth.
Rosalie beamed at him. “It’s my special trick,” she said, winking.
It occurred to me how that “special trick” just might come in handy in other situations, too, and how Mitch might not stand a chance with a girl like Rosalie pursuing him.
“What can I get you, Dez?” she asked, interrupting my pity party for one.
“Uh—nothing, really.” I had completely lost my appetite since coming in. “I just wanted to see how you were doing on Celeste and Egan’s call list and ask if you needed any help.”
Rosalie looked at me funny, but didn’t say anything. “I’m good, thanks,” she said, now a little cooler than she was before. “Everyone’s been called, and her parents are coming into town in two weeks. Hey, are you coming to the party tonight too?”
My stomach turned, but I met her eyes. I was a grown-ass woman, and I had no claims on Mitch anyway. I would be gone in a week and a half, and I could forget all this small-town drama bullshit. “Yeah, I have to. It’s a work night for me. You know I’m here taking pictures for my book, right?”
When Rosalie nodded, I said, “I’ve already gotten pictures of Celeste and Egan, and Inez and Bridgette. But Mitch has agreed to participate in the project, too, so I’m getting a few shots of him working with the kids tonight. Maybe I can get a picture of the two of you working together?” I said for good measure, knowing it would please Rosalie and get her off my back.
Her face lit up. “Oh my gosh! That would be amazing. Thank you, Dez!” she said, suddenly her usual bubbly self. “I know just what I’m going to wear. He doesn’t stand a chance.”
“I guess I’ll see you later then.” I made my way from the café. I stepped out into the bright sunshine of the late afternoon and inhaled the cold, crisp air into my lungs. I just wanted to melt into the sidewalk and disappear.
Not since Will had I felt a tug on those feelings that lay buried deep within my belly. The ones where butterflies were now starting to fidget and get restless whenever I was around Mitch. The ones that stayed asleep when I let someone into my bed for the night, but that were now shifting their wings, remembering how to fly.
The last thing I needed was to feel those flutters. Especially with someone as closed off as Mitch. He was charming one minute, sparring with me the next. I didn’t have time to figure him out. I either needed to just sleep with him and silence the damn butterflies by getting him out of my system, or forget he existed. Leave him in his small town with the likes of a hot little psychic waitress named Rosalie.
Fuck that.
Two could play at that game. I decided to shut those damn butterflies up once and for all tonight. Rosalie may have youth on her side, but if Mitch wanted a woman, he’d get one. I wasn’t lying when I told him he would know when I decided to pursue him. Well, there would be no question tonight, I decided. My insides fluttered in a different way as I crossed the street to Amore, a beautiful store with hints of seduction behind the simple, elegant display case. I could see lace and silk, and the tug deep between my thighs told me I was on the right track. I hadn’t packed anything sexy with me, but I sure as hell would be wearing something worth blowing his mind tonight.
Loaded with two full bags from Amore and a satisfied spring in my step, I spent the next thirty minutes dipping into little shops along the main street. On my way back to Egan’s truck, I was delighted when the first snowflake fell, landing on my nose. I stopped in the parking lot behind LettuceWrap to watch as the snowflakes flurried gently down upon me.
I closed my eyes, feeling as if I were getting a little gift from heaven. As if Will were looking down on me this Christmas, telling me it was okay to finally move on. Peace washed over me. I whispered out loud, “Hey, Will. I miss you.” The snowflakes picked up, whirling around me, and I smiled. “Is this your blessing?” I asked, needing confirmation in the worst way. My heart had always been Will’s, but lately I couldn’t get past a surly, beautiful, dark-haired man who was slowly creeping his way into my imagination. With his scruffy jawline and smoldering eyes. Ones that seemed to fly right past my bullshit and zero straight in on my inner truth—the one I hid from everyone else. The side of me only Will knew.
“Can you just show me a sign?” I whispered. “If it’s okay for me to move on, even if to just take one step forward in healing, can you please just give me a sign?”
I let the soft, wet snowflakes fall onto my face. I stood next to the hood of Egan’s truck like that for a good five minutes, not caring what anyone else in town thought of me. When no sign came, I opened my eyes, relieved in a way.
I wasn’t in town for romance anyhow.
As I turned to hoist myself up into Egan’s big Dodge Ram, I heard a noise. It was more like a whimper. I looked around the parking lot and couldn’t see a thing. I shrugged, setting my backpack on the passenger side when I heard the noise again. Confused, I got out and looked around. That’s when I saw something move in the bed of the truck. It was under a black wool blanket, the same color as the truck’s lining and the tarp Egan had covering most of the bed.
Inside was boy and dog, huddled together in the bitter cold air. I knew it was Christiano before he even lifted his head. His bloodshot eyes met mine, pleading. The dog inched closer to him, as if in protection, but Ti groaned louder, clutching his side.
“Christiano!” I said, moving in for a closer look. “What are you doing back here?” A million assumptions ran through my head, and I knew I needed to call Mitch right away. He would be so relieved. “You father and Mitch have been so worried about you. Do you have any idea the panic you’ve caused?”
Tears brimmed Ti’s giant black lashes as he looked up at me through a half blitzed-out haze. He was still high on something, though I had no idea what. “I need to get you home, Ti,” I said.
He shook his head no, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tried to stay present.
“Ti, what did you take?” I asked, suddenly panicked. “Do I need to take you to the hospital?”
He nodded his head, moving the blanket aside as he did. That’s when I saw the blood pooling from a rip in his shirt. I had no idea how long he’d been bleeding, or how long he’d been in the back of Egan’s truck. I just knew I needed to get him to the hospital, fast.
“Hold on, okay?” He nodded and closed his eyes, his head falling back against the cold, hard bed of the truck.
I jumped into the cab and called Mitch, putting the phone on speaker so I could concentrate on driving. My hands were shaking badly enough as it was.
“Hey, Dez, this is a surprise,” he said when he answered on the first ring.
“Mitch, I have Christiano in the back of Egan’s truck. It’s a long story, but we’re on the way to the hospital. Can you meet us there?”
Mitch was silent on the other end. “Mitch, did you hear me?”
“Is”—he took a deep breath—“is he alive?”
“Yes,” I said tenderly, knowing the panic that must be settli
ng in. I, of all people, knew the pain of receiving this type of phone call. “But he’s bleeding. I don’t know how long he’s been like this. He was lying under a blanket Egan had in the back of his truck, under the tarp. So I think he stayed warm that way—oh, and he has a dog with him. Black lab by the looks of it. Sweet thing was keeping him warm and looking awfully protective.”
“Okay. I—I’ll meet you at the hospital, Dez. Thank you,” he said. “Thank God for you.”
I swallowed hard hearing him say that. It wasn’t exactly the sign I’d been hoping for, but sometimes God had other plans.
Big, fluffy snowflakes continued to fall as I pulled in front of the emergency entrance. “Thank you,” I mouthed to the sky. I knew, without a doubt, that Will was looking down on us right now, helping me keep this boy alive.
As the EMTs rushed from the door with a stretcher, hoisting Ti’s thin body onto a long, flat stabilizing board, I prayed again. This time for another Christmas miracle. Just one more for Ti, I whispered.
I’D GOTTEN ALONG just fine these past few years with my head down, working hard to make a difference in our community. Then Dez breezed into town. I knew none of this was her fault, but in just a few short days, my heart had gone through more roller-coaster dips and dives and corkscrew turns than it had in years, since I had struggled with my post-attack demons—the ones that led me to destroy my art studio, sell my house, and tell the paparazzi to go fuck itself during a drug-induced Twitter rant. Needless to say, they left me the fuck alone after that, and national attention faded just as quickly as it came.
My heart still ached most days, not being in the studio firing up the huge iron sculptures I once created from nothing. But my heart lacked the passion and my body lacked a second arm. Not that I couldn’t do it. I’d met so many inspiring amputee survivors while recovering—many who’d lost limbs in battle. Those men and women seemed unstoppable, letting nothing hold them back. Hell, I’d even received a face-to-face pep talk from Bethany Hamilton, who knew more than anyone what I was going through. Fuck. She’d gotten back on her surfboard a month after her shark attack, despite losing more than half her blood and suffering from hypovolemic shock. I’ll never forget the advice she gave me while I was lying in the hospital recovering, feeling more than a little sorry for myself. She said, “Mitch, I’ve had the chance to embrace more people with one arm than I ever could with two.”
Those words raced through my mind while I drove to the hospital, praying like hell that Ti survived. For not being someone who prayed, and not even knowing whether there was anyone on the other end of my call, I certainly was doing an awful lot of it these days.
But I was scared that Ti might go into shock from his blood loss, just as I had after losing my arm. Who knew how long he’d been bleeding out in the back of Egan’s truck. But it made me more determined than ever to get our emergency app up and running, and to fight harder for these kids. I could embrace more people now after my life changed than I ever could have while being an artist. People I knew face to face, whom I’d bump into at the market. I smiled, thinking of Dez and our little “run-in.”
Yeah, losing my arm fucking sucked. But Egan was right when he reminded me that I had a bigger purpose—that I was here to help these kids for a reason. I wouldn’t soon forget how important that was after today. If everything in my life hadn’t happened exactly as it had, maybe I wouldn’t be where I was today, racing to the hospital, where people needed me. Where Dez was waiting for me.
I ran full speed into the waiting room, searching for her. She stood up as soon as she saw me, and no words were needed. She ran right to me, letting me wrap her in a hug. I knew it comforted her, just as her head resting against me instantly calmed my racing nerves.
As she shook against my chest, releasing pent-up fear, I ran my hand down the long length of hair that tumbled down her back. “Shh,” I whispered. “It’s going to be okay. You got him here in time. If he has a chance, it’s because of you, Dez.”
We held onto each other like that for a long time as the busy hospital swirled around us. Nothing else mattered except comforting her—and allowing her to comfort me—as we waited for news about Christiano.
I pulled back and looked down at Dez, suddenly remembering something she’d said when she’d called me on her way in. “You said there was a dog in the truck with Ti?” I asked, looking around the waiting room. “Where did he go?”
Dez ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it out and fiddling with the ends. “The hospital was kind enough to call the SPCA for me. A nice lady named Kinsley came out and took him. He didn’t want to leave Ti’s side when the EMTs wheeled him back. Poor dog was shaking and looked panicked. He’d make a sweet companion at the youth center. Seems to like kids,” she said.
I couldn’t think about it at the moment, but I filed it away for later—an after-we-get-through-this-crisis decision. Maybe it would help bring Ti back to the youth center. Give him a purpose again. I wrapped Dez back in a hug, amazed at the depth of compassion she had in her heart for others. “Thank you for thinking about that, and for taking care of things. You really do amaze me, Dez.”
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed while we stood there, holding onto one another, but I heard someone clear their throat and felt a hand rest against my back. I turned to find Dr. Zampogna, a chart in his hand, his black glasses perched on the end of his nose. Though he wasn’t any older than I was, he’d transferred from a large hospital in Dallas when he needed to care for his aging mother here in town. I knew he was more than competent enough to handle Ti’s care.
“How is he, Zade?” I asked, stepping back from Dez to collect myself for our conversation.
“We’re trying to get ahold of his father, but no one can find him. I know you’re like a big brother to him with your work at the youth center, so I’m glad he has someone here who cares about him. Seems like our friend Christiano is in rough shape. He has drugs in his system, indicative of an overdose. Additionally, he took a spill on something, maybe as he was climbing over a wooden fence while high. Something punctured his abdomen, but he’s really lucky that it broke off inside of him, so it’s actually stopping any major blood loss. We’re prepping him for surgery now to stop the bleeding, remove the obstruction, and repair any damage it may have caused. There’s not much you can do except wait. Why don’t you help us find Mr. Morellis? Surgery’s going to take a while, and he’s going to be out of it overnight while we try to stabilize him and keep him comfortable.”
Despite the grim situation, I was relieved that he was still alive. “If anything changes, will you please let me know?” I asked, shaking Dr. Zampogna’s hand.
“You’re supposed to be next of kin, Mitch,” he said, running a hand over his face. “Just call Zada. You know she’ll fill you in. She can’t keep her big mouth closed like she’s supposed to,” he joked about his secretary, who also happened to be his younger sister. “It was good seeing you again,” he said affectionately, hugging Dez before he left. I didn’t realize they knew each other, and it instantly set off alarm bells.
I turned to Dez, my eyes pinning her.
“What?” she said, though she knew I’d caught the familiarity between them.
“Spill it, Dez,” I said, my hand on my hip as I glared at her. She glared right back, mirroring me, though with both hands on her hips.
“First of all, my personal life is really none of your business. I don’t owe you an explanation for how I know Dr. Zampogna, do I? Any more than you owe me an explanation for why you flirt with a certain busty waitress. So, if you’ll excuse me . . . now that I know that Christiano is in more than capable hands,” she said, making a point with her raised eyebrows that she was well aware of just how capable the doctor’s hands were, “I’m running upstairs to check on Celeste and Egan, and to meet their new baby. Oh, and I suppose we need to get Egan’s truck cleaned for him if they’re bringing the baby home in it tomorrow.”
“I’ll arrange it,” I growle
d, “but I’m coming with you.” I wasn’t sure why I was suddenly so angry with Dez after all she’d done to help. I just knew, without a doubt, that I hated the idea of Zade’s hands on her.
“Not with that surly attitude. Celeste doesn’t need that kind of energy in her room right now.”
“Fine. I’ll lose it before we get there. Let’s go,” I said, not sure how the heck I was going to shake the black cloud that was hanging over my head.
We rode the elevator to the maternity floor in silence. When we were one floor away, I slammed the emergency stop button, brining the elevator to a halt.
“What are you doing, Mitch?” she said, bracing herself against the wall from the impact of the sudden stop.
I leaned toward her, putting my arm on the wall behind her head. “I figured out how I’m going to work off this frustration.”
She swallowed, staring at my lips as I slowly said each word, moving closer to her mouth with every one. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment we met.”
My mouth finally found hers. It was hot and demanding all at once. I tried to slow the pace and savor it, but we were both frantic with the heat from a kiss that was a long time coming. Her hands quickly found their way behind my head and into my hair. Her mouth was warm, and her soft tongue melted against mine as it found a demanding rhythm that matched my own.
Before I knew what was happening, I cupped the back of her ass and hoisted her up, her legs instinctively circling my waist as I pinned her against the elevator wall. Her kiss deepened, sending shockwaves down my stomach and straight between my legs. I wished more than anything that we were back at Tranquility and not in an elevator. Her hands pulled at my head as she bit my lower lip, sucking it in. I ground against her, showing her just how turned on I was by each delicious circle of her tongue.