Mason shakes his head and meets my gaze. “I just need to give you a little of the faith that I have in us. I need you to know what I know.”
He leans close to me again, gently placing his hand on my cheek and stares straight into my eyes. “I know that this thing we have—you and me—there is no end, Sara. You don’t have to worry about life without me, because I go where you go.”
He touches his forehead to my forehead, closing his eyes, willing me to take his words to heart. After what seems like a lifetime, his face inches toward my ear. I feel his breath gently caressing my neck, and it sends shivers down my spine.
“I’m not giving up on you, Sara. I won’t give up on us.”
And with those parting words, Mason stands up and leaves me sitting in the aftermath of the tornado of possibilities he’s created.
“She Will Be Loved” by Maroon 5
Present Day
“MAKE SURE YOU get jalapenos, Sara. You know I like it hot, baby!” Marlo hollers across the restaurant.
I roll my eyes and chuckle softly. Marlo was absent the day God handed out shame. Alex and I have given up being embarrassed by her. We’ve learned to just go with it and enjoy the show. And what a show it is.
“You heard the lady, add jalapenos, please,” I say, as I give the cashier an apologetic smile. Alex suggested that we have an impromptu girls night at our favorite pizza place, Antoni’s. Marlo and I both agree it’s past due. The restaurant has a casual atmosphere with checkerboard tablecloths and strategically-placed flat screen televisions. It also has the added bonus of live music on the weekends. It feels like a perfect night for hot pizza, cold beer, great conversation, and a little acoustic guitar. I gently sway to the Maroon 5 song being strummed on the other side of the restaurant.
“So how was your first day at the clinic, Sara?” Alex looks at me expectantly as I place our pitcher of beer and Marlo’s DDP on the table.
“It was … interesting. I definitely made an impression …”
“I’m sure you did, my little rock star. I’d expect nothing less from Sara Preston, Super Nurse!” Marlo mocks with both hands on her hips like a superhero.
“It wasn’t in a good way, Marlo. I kind of butted heads with one of the volunteers, but I think we’re cool now. My meetings with the clients went great, though, and that’s what really matters.”
“The clinic director, Caroline, has some interesting art projects going on in the community. I would love the opportunity to work with her.”
“You should stop by the clinic, Alex. I knew within minutes of meeting her that she was an amazing woman. I think the two of you would get along great.”
“I may have to do that …”
I take a sip of my beer and look up when I hear the jingle of the entrance bell. At first, I think my eyes are deceiving me as Adam waltzes up to the front counter to place his order. This isn’t the casually dressed Adam I saw this morning. This Adam is dressed to kill, with fitted black slacks, a light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and his hair gelled into the sexiest faux hawk I’ve ever seen. I don’t realize I am staring until he turns his gaze on me and winks. I wave, all the while praying the redness rapidly creeping into my cheeks isn’t noticeable.
“Um, Sara, who the fuck is that? And where have you been hiding him?”
“Well, speaking of butting heads with people …” I mutter, hoping Marlo will get a clue and lower her voice. Yeah, right, like that’s gonna happen.
“Oh, there’s something I want to butt up against him, but it’s definitely not my head, if—”
“Hush up, Marlo! I work with him at the clinic. Oh, shit, he’s coming over here. Try to tone it down a bit, please!”
“Sara, is that you? Hey, how about that, twice in one day. I may have left my flag at the clinic, but I can improvise if you’d like,” Adam jokes as he pats his hands on his pockets, as if looking for a flag substitute.
“No, I don’t think that will be necessary.” I giggle and let out a high-pitched, nervous laugh. “Adam, these are my friends, Alex and Marlo. Adam is also a volunteer at New Horizons Outreach Center.”
Marlo extends her hand to him. “It’s very nice to meet you, Adam. But I have to be honest, if you’re making trouble for our little Sara, there’s gonna be a whole helluva lot of hip popping and finger waving in your future. Just saying …” She shrugs apologetically as she inspects her fingernails.
“Please ignore Marlo, she’s all bark and no bite, kind of like a little chihuahua,” Alex feigns seriousness as she shields herself from Marlo’s punch.
Adam chuckles. “Hey, she’s taking up for friend—that’s admirable. Marlo, I promise you that I sincerely apologized to Sara, and I plan to be the model coworker from here on out.”
“Well, that’s what I like to hear. You get a pass this time, Adam, but I don’t hand out passes often. I suggest you keep on your toes.” Marlo gives Adam a wink to let him know she’s teasing. Well, I think that’s why she winked. You never know with Marlo.
“So Adam, do you have a certain area of the clinic that you volunteer in?” Alex leans in and pushes out the fourth chair at our table, silently inviting Adam to sit.
“Thanks, it’s going to be a little while until my order is ready,” Adam says as he sits down, “and, yes, I mainly work with the domestic abuse clients. But I also lend a hand with adoption clients, and I teach classes on STD and pregnancy prevention. I’ve had many compliments on my condom application demonstrations.” Adam smirks at me, chuckling softly.
I cough loudly as Alex and Marlo give Adam a confused look. I don’t feel like explaining my little tirade, so I quickly change the subject. “Are you just getting off work? I mean … you look dressed up, so I just figured …”
“Well, I had a meeting with one of my clients, and I didn’t think they would appreciate me showing up in the sweats I normally wear when I work. I’m a graphic artist, so I work from home most of the time.”
“Sweet job. I’d love to make my own hours instead of these damn twelve-hour shifts. You know, Alex is an artist, too. She owns Reflections Art Gallery downtown.” Marlo looks proudly over at Alex, who is uncomfortably shifting in her seat from the attention. She’s never enjoyed the spotlight.
“Hey, I know that gallery—you’ve got some beautiful pieces in there, Alex. I’m impressed. I’m a whiz with computer graphics, but I’m afraid I’m more of what you would call an expert doodler with pencil and paper.” Adam leans back in his chair and pushes up his sleeves. I see the tip of a tattoo peeking out of the bottom of his shirt. I can’t be certain, but it looks like a gnarly piece of wood.
“Is that a tattoo on your arm? What is it?” It doesn’t occur to me until the words fly out of my mouth that it’s probably none of my damn business. Oh well, it’s too late for me to take it back now.
“Yeah, I lost a bet to my friend, Cain. He made me get a tattoo of Tweety Bird sitting on a tree branch.”
“Seriously?”
“No.”
“Jerk!” I push Adam’s leg and laugh.
“What about you, Sara? Do you have any tattoos?” Adam asks as he leans into me.
“No, I don’t, but I’ve always wanted one. I just can’t decide what I’d like etched on my skin forever. That’s a big decision, ya know? Forever’s a long freaking time!” It doesn’t escape my attention that he evaded my questions, and that makes me want to know all the more.
“Sara has a bit of a problem making big decisions, you know … committing.” If looks could kill, Marlo would be dead. What the fuck does she think she’s doing? The last thing I want to do is air my dirty laundry to a new coworker, and Marlo just threw my theoretical dirty panties on the table for everyone to see.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that, Sara? Oh, shit, I didn’t mean anything by that, I’m sorry. I’m just joking around, sticking my foot all the way down my throat.”
Adam is wearing a confused look, and I have no intention of explaining. I�
��m too busy fighting the redness taking over my cheeks. Adam’s covers his reaction quickly and grabs my hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I see him putting a pen to the inside of my wrist. Whatever he’s doing, I welcome the distraction. I know Marlo didn’t mean any harm, but I’m still overly sensitive about the events of the past year.
“I’m taking you tattoo shopping, but no peeking until I’m done. Maybe I’ll help you find the perfect ink.”
I look away to honor his no peeking rule, and I feel the pen start brushing against my skin. Although he’s only lightly touching my wrist with the pen, I must admit that it feels subtly sexy. I will myself to change my train of thought, but to no avail. Don’t even go there. You know he and Celia are an item. You’re just setting yourself up for a fall. Remember, friends, that’s what this is.
“So what is Celia’s main role at the clinic?” That’s right, I need to keep things in perspective.
“Celia is a therapist; she has her own private practice in Providence. She holds individual sessions and group sessions at the clinic for those clients who wouldn’t be able to afford it otherwise. She really goes the extra mile. She gets through to patients who would be lost in the system without her.”
It’s apparent that Adam cares deeply for Celia, and I hate to admit it, but it’s endearing. I hope one day I’ll meet someone who says sweet things about me behind my back.
“Well, maybe I should let her take a look into my fucked up head. Maybe she could untangle the web of wacko that I’ve got going on up there!” I hate to disappoint Marlo, but I’m pretty sure she’s an enigma that can’t be solved or fixed.
“No, Marlo, I don’t think Celia would be the therapist for you. Celia’s patients are less ‘I’m looking for the meaning of life,’ and more ‘I see dead people,’ if you know what I mean. She takes care of the chronically mentally ill—the people who most of society has thrown away. I don’t know how she does it, but she has endless compassion and patience,” Adam explains.
“That’s a tough population to work with, I would imagine. It must take a special person to be able to make a difference,” I say, honestly. I already knew I liked Celia when I met her, but now I respect her immensely.
“Celia is very special. Her clients are lucky to have her. I truly believe that she feels just as lucky to have them. That’s just the way she is.”
“Adam Hunt, your pizza’s ready,” the cashier calls out over the intercom.
“Ah, perfect timing. I’ve just completed my masterpiece. Okay, tell me what you think,” Adam says with a satisfied grin.
I look down at my inner wrist and can’t believe the detail in his drawing after such a short amount of time. The ‘tattoo’ is large, about the size of a credit card, but still manages to appear dainty. Adam has drawn a dandelion with several of the seeds blowing away from the flower.
“Adam, it’s beautiful. I think it takes more than just an expert doodler to draw something this intricate with just a pen in five minutes. I think you’re being modest …”
“I think you flatter me. So do we have a winner?”
“I love it, but I’d like to shop a little more, if you don’t mind.”
“Smart girl; you should never pick the first thing you see.”
As Adam smirks at me, I start wondering. “So, why a dandelion?”
“I’m thinking you deserve a wish.”
I may be totally off base, but I think Adam may need a reminder about Celia, too. The back and forth between us feels dangerously close to verbal foreplay. I’ve done a bang up job of avoiding the male species entirely for the past year, so maybe I’m being overly sensitive. But I was oblivious to Mason’s flirting for months, so it would have to be fairly blatant if I’m aware of it. Maybe Adam flirts with everyone, and it’s just his nature. Maybe Celia and Adam aren’t exclusive. If that’s the case, he’s crazy if he thinks I would jump into that triangle. I make a concerted effort to table these thoughts until I have more information. No need to work myself up before a problem even exists.
“Adam Hunt, your pizza is ready,” repeats the cashier in a slightly impatient tone.
“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you stick around and eat with us, Adam? No need to rush home. We’ll even share our beer with you!” Alex smiles sweetly. She may look innocent, but I see her wheels turning.
Adam looks at his watch and shakes his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I have somewhere to be. Some other time maybe. It was very nice meeting you, ladies. Sara, I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there.” My eyes unconsciously watch Adam grab his pizza and walk out the door. When I turn back to the table, I see two sets of eyes boring into me.
“What?” I ask innocently.
“Don’t even try it, Dandelion. Alex and I just witnessed that little game of footsie that you and ‘sex on a stick’ were playing. Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad to see it. Your lady parts need some attention, and that guy would be a fan-fucking-tastic way to end that drought of yours.”
“There’s nothing going on, I swear. Celia is his girlfriend. I heard them talking about meeting up at nine, and he just told us he has somewhere to be. And look at the time … it’s 8:45. He’s just being friendly … I think.”
“That was friendly, all right. If he’s got a girlfriend, then you need to be very careful with him, Sara. I doubt his girlfriend would appreciate him acting that way.” I see the concern etched on Alex’s face.
“I met him and Celia today, so I don’t want to jump to any conclusions. I promise to tread lightly and keep myself out of any precarious situations. Cool?”
I appreciate my friends’ concern, and I don’t take it lightly. I’ve been villianized for what happened with Mason, so the last thing I need is to take on the title of home wrecker.
“Cool with me. That being said, I’ve got to state the obvious. That man is fucking hot. That hair, those crystal blue eyes, and that ass—somebody at this table better ride that cowboy and pass on all the dirty details.”
“Marlo!” Alex and I scream at the same time. It’s like being friends with a five year old—she’s got absolutely no impulse control. I can’t help but love her, though. That level of honesty keeps things interesting.
“Just saying …”
Morning comes more quickly than I’d like, but my run energizes me. I breathe in the cold, dry air and revel in the feeling of my lungs expanding to their limits. I use this time to sort out the details of the past couple of days—to simplify what has the potential to become very complicated. Nothing or no one will jeopardize my work at the clinic.
Celia and Adam are in a relationship. I felt the intimacy between them when I first saw them together. It was clear even from across the room. I keep trying to pound this information into my brain, because daydreaming about Adam is flirting with disaster.
I know I’m foolish for entertaining these ridiculous notions about a man who I’ve spoken with twice. Twice! No contact with the male species has morphed me into an overzealous, horny teenager. A man shows me the slightest bit of platonic attention, and I’m a carving knife away from etching our names into a tree trunk. A little bit of extra attention? Sure, I’ll ‘fess up to that. Platonic attention all the same, though. Yet I still feel his fingers holding my wrist, the tingling sensation never quite diminishing. Shit, I’m pathetic.
A date—that’s what I need to straighten out my shit. Never underestimate the power of distraction. If I’m thinking about my date, then I won’t be thinking about what’s his name. Marlo is on and off with a hot paramedic named Mike, and I’m sure he has some hot paramedic friends.
As I finish up my run, I recap my objectives:
1. I will focus on my clients; everything else is just background noise.
2. Celia and Adam are an item, and I will respect that.
3. My pathetic ass needs to stop reading into things that aren’t real.
4. I’ll spend my time fantasizing about a hot
paramedic guy, and I will forget about what’s his name.
Yeah, I’m so screwed.
“The Little Things” by Colbie Caillat
AFTER TAKING A quick shower and doing a normal amount of primping (no extra time spent, I swear), I jump into my Bug and drive to the clinic. It’s a chilly day, but the sun is shining brightly, warming up the car and my skin. My first travel nursing assignment took me to Fairbanks, Alaska, so I no longer take this beautiful weather for granted. This Louisiana girl was not made to live in darkness for months at a time. The darkness wasn’t the worst of it; I sucked ass at driving in the snow and death by car accident was inevitable if I extended my contract. You can take the girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl.
As I open the door and rush into the clinic, I almost run directly into Caroline. I grab both her arms to steady her and keep her from falling down.
“Whoa, Sara! You need to use your blinker, girl!”
“I’m so sorry, Caroline! I’m zoned out today. It’s good to see you.”
“I’m happy to see you, too. Let’s go in my office for a minute. I want to talk to you about Abigail.”
“Oh, did I do something wrong? I felt the meeting went well …”
“Of course, honey. You did perfect. I just wanted to let you know that Abigail called yesterday afternoon with a couple of questions, and I talked with her. She spoke very highly of you. I know you’ve only met with her one time, but you made an impression.” Caroline squeezes my arm affectionately as she leads me into her office.
“Oh, thank goodness. I’m glad Abigail felt comfortable with me. She didn’t share much personal information, but I got the feeling that she doesn’t have much support from family or friends.”
“You’re exactly right. Abigail can be a bit guarded, so I want to give you a little insight into what her life has been like. I think it will help to guide your approach with her. All of her life, it’s only been her and her mother. Her mother, Cindy, got pregnant very young, and she was all alone. Her boyfriend left, never to be heard from again, and her parents disowned her. She struggled to make ends meet and take care of a baby when she was just a child herself. Cindy eventually turned to alcohol and drugs when Abigail was very young. Abigail probably has no recollection of her mother before the substance abuse. We have attempted to help Cindy with her addictions, but unfortunately, it’s never stuck. Abigail is a resilient child, and has been the adult in that household for many years. That girl has found her mother passed out drunk on the bathroom floor more times than I care to think about. I met Abigail when she was about thirteen years old through a community outreach program I was volunteering with, and I’ve kept in touch over the years. This girl means a great deal to me. No child should have to go through the things that Abigail has endured.”
Hope Over Fear (Over #1) Page 6