Saratoga Falls: The Complete Love Story Series

by Pogue, Lindsey

“Thanks. He doesn’t do well with a lot of noise, either.” I’m starting to get that Jesse is more atypical than most kids I’ve come across. “Look, Mac, I know you probably can’t look at it today, and I know you hate me and I don’t expect you to do me any favors, but I desperately need my car.” She balls her gloves up in her fists on the counter, though I’m not sure she even realizes it. “He’s got a few appointments he needs to be at and not having a car is like—” She shakes her head. “Anyway, if there’s any way you can make it a priority, I can pay the extra money.”

  The reedy desperation in her voice and the fact that I already have an affinity for Jesse melts some of the ice from my heart. “I don’t hate you,” I mutter.

  “What?”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Just fill out the information here—most of the car info I can get from the VIN, but I need your personal info so I can contact you.” The relief in Bethany’s gray eyes is almost palpable. “I’ll go back and talk to my techs.”

  She nods and scans the paperwork, her expression relaxing a little.

  “I’m sure we can figure something out.” I leave Jesse and Bethany in the office as I scoot out to the shop.

  I check in with Felix first because I know he’s wrapping up a transmission job he’s been working on since last week. He says he can get to the Rover within the hour, “but no guarantees how soon it will be fixed. It might not even be the starter.”

  “Thank you, Felix,” I say, grasping his arm. “I think she really needs this car.”

  He shrugs. “You rarely ask for favors, Mac. I’m happy to help.” I flash him my toothiest grin and make my way back to the office.

  Nick’s leaning against Reilly’s toolbox, mid-sentence, when he notices me. I mouth an “I’M SO SORRY” as I pass by and then disappear inside again, shutting the door behind me.

  Jesse’s wandering around the room, observing everything. He fixates on the lights blinking on the small Christmas tree in the window and stares at the presents underneath. I wonder if he wants to organize those for me too as I step around him.

  “We can get to it,” I say, and Bethany’s phone starts ringing.

  She holds up a finger, glances to Jesse, who’s still studying the tree, then answers. “Finally,” she says. I check her paperwork to make sure I have all the information I need before she’s on her way. “Well, we need a ride. He has to be at the community center to meet his group in thirty minutes, they’re going to the hockey rink today.” Bethany rolls her eyes and rubs her temples as she turns her back to me. Whoever’s on the other end of the line doesn’t seem to think it’s much of a priority. “Whatever,” she grumbles and drops the phone in her oversized Prada bag.

  When she realizes I’m waiting, she plasters on a fake smile—the smile I’m used to seeing—and sighs as she looks over her shoulder at Jesse. He’s standing anxiously next to her again.

  “We can get the Rover looked at today,” I repeat. “And it would appear”—I finish scanning her paperwork— “that I have all the info I need from you for now.”

  “And I can give you a ride.”

  Both of us look toward the doorway to find Nick standing there. He looks restless but resigned. “I’m headed that way anyway. I can drop you off wherever you need.”

  I frown. Nick’s a nice guy, but I wasn’t expecting that.

  Bethany pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, gray eyes round and shimmering. “Really? I mean, you can just drop us off at the community center and we can leave on the bus with the others. It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, tops.”

  Nick nods. “It’s fine.”

  Bethany looks back at me, a genuine smile on her face this time.

  I’m not sure if it’s the displeasure emanating from me that makes her smile falter, but I hold her gaze a moment. If there’s anything understood between us at all, it’s that I don’t like the way she screws with Nick’s feelings. We exchange a few silent conversations—my warning and disapproval, her desperation and maybe even an innocent plea and promise to play nice.

  Nick clears his throat.

  I glance at him, take in his uncomfortable expression, and look back at Bethany. “So, yeah,” I say. “We should have it done before the end of the day, if it’s just the starter, that is.”

  Even through a layer of makeup, I can tell she’s beyond thankful. “Thank you, Mac.”

  “I—ah . . .” I glance from her to Nick, who’s waiting with his back to us by the door. “I guess I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  There’s no more awkwardness as Bethany takes Jesse’s hand in hers and heads out the door. Nick glances back at me, registering the worried look on my face, but he smiles with false sincerity. “See you at home.”

  I nod again, feeling more like a robot than a person, and I watch as they silently walk out to the Explorer. Jesse glances all around while Bethany tugs at his jacket, making sure it’s tight around him. Unable to resist, I step up to the glass and watch as Nick opens the car door for Jesse to climb in. Bethany makes sure he’s settled before she shuts him in and nearly runs into Nick as she turns around.

  “You can’t be serious,” I mutter.

  She and Nick exchange what looks like a few stilted words, then she gets into the passenger seat. Comparing this Bethany to the one I’ve always had in my head is weird. And I imagine my twelve-year-old self would be crying in the back of a classroom too if someone was taking Jesse away from me.

  Twenty-Nine

  Mac

  My eyelids fly open and my heart’s racing, though it takes me a second to realize why. The front door rattles in its hinges and banging reverberates through the living room, jarring me from sleep.

  “Hey, Nick!” a male voice calls through the door.

  I struggle to move, wrapped in my blanket cocoon on the couch I can’t escape. My mind is swirling and my heart is hammering as I try to place the voice.

  More knocking. “Nick, I need your help.”

  “Colton?” I rasp and half fall off the couch, clumsy on sleeping limbs. “I’m coming,” I call, brushing my hair out of my eyes so I can see. I fumble with the deadbolt, like my fingers don’t remember how to move, until I finally open the door. “What’s wrong—”

  Colton’s eyes are wide. He’s frightened. Fear tiptoes in as I notice he’s disheveled, his hair falling in his eye and moisture darkening the chest of his gray thermal shirt.

  “What’s wrong?” I scan the rest of his body, making sure he’s physically okay. “What happened?”

  “I need someone to watch Casey for me while I run to the drugstore. She’s got a fever and I don’t have anything at the house—not for something like this.”

  I shake the sleepy haze from my mind. It’s the middle of night . . . I glance inside at the microwave clock. “Um. Nick’s still at work,” I finally realize, but that doesn’t matter. I slam the door shut and walk toward Colton’s apartment. “I’ll stay with her.”

  He hurries past me and into his apartment, down the hall toward Casey’s room so fast my eyes are still adjusting to the change in light. I blink a few times, registering Casey, sitting up in bed, her body glazed in sweat, hair dampened to curls matted around her sniffling, red face.

  “Daddy,” she’s crying, calling for him.

  “Shhh, Casey baby,” Colton coos.

  My heart stutters as the wretched, sick child in front of me truly registers. Casey’s clearly got a fever and my big-sister gears immediately kick into overdrive. I run over to her.

  “I’m going to get you some medicine,” Colton says. “It will make you feel better.” I hear him speaking, but I’m too busy assessing her body temperature. She looks at me as I gently place my hand on her arm—her forehead—her cheek. “I already know she has a fever,” he says, calm, but it’s a façade. I can tell by the thin inflection in his voice that he’s scared, just trying to hold it together for his daughter. It’s obvious she’s never been sick like this before.

  Her skin is hot—
burning. “What was her temperature at?”

  “A hundred and three.” He hands me the thermometer.

  “When did you take it last?”

  He shrugs and shakes his head with bloodshot eyes, like there’s too much running through his head to think clearly. “Ten minutes ago?”

  I try to ease the thermometer into her mouth again to make sure her temperature isn’t still climbing. “Come on, sweetie,” I urge. “I know you don’t want to, but it will help us make you feel better.” Casey watches me, eyes red and glassy as she blinks a few times, until finally she must realize anything is better than what she’s feeling and she accepts it. With a muffled whimper, she shuts her eyes and tries to breathe through her sniffling.

  “That’s right, sweetie, deep breath through your nose.” I rub her back as I run through possible next steps. If it’s a virus, the hospital will give her the same thing we can, Tylenol, order her to drink liquids, get rest, take over-the-counter meds . . . it’s clearly more than a cold, but I’m not sure a hospital trip will help. If anything, the winter night and stress alone could make things worse.

  “I want my mommy,” Casey whines with the thermometer still in her mouth. She winces as she swallows.

  “I know, Casey,” I whisper and pull her into my arms. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” I barely perceive her nod. “Where does it hurt?” I peer down at her against my chest.

  She points to her throat, sniffling, then she clings onto me more tightly.

  I remove the thermometer. “A hundred and two point nine,” I read aloud. I peer over my shoulder at Colton. “Nick should be getting off work any minute. Call him, tell him which fever reducer you want; he can get it for you on his way home. I’ll get her in a lukewarm bath while you call the advice nurse.”

  Colton nods, and for a split second he looks relieved, but then he eyes Casey, whimpering against my chest as I rock her back and forth. His eyes narrow to worried, contemplative slits. “Should we take her to the hospital?”

  After thinking the briefest of moments, I shrug a shoulder. “I’d say yes if her fever were rising, but it isn’t.”

  Colton eyes me, and I can tell he’s trying to gauge how much he should trust me in this moment.

  “Bobby and I have been sick like this. If it’s mono or some sort of flu, there’s nothing they can do at the hospital that you can’t. Unless she needs fluids. If it’s strep, they can prescribe her antibiotics, but I’m not sure that warrants a hospital visit, unless you feel more comfortable doing that. I’m clearly not a doctor.” I peer down at Casey. “You could ask the advice nurse what she thinks while I try to cool her down a little.”

  With a slight incline of his head, he disappears down the hall.

  “Oh, Colton . . .” I say, drawing him back into the room. “Make sure Nick knows it has to be for children—the fever reducer,” I clarify.

  He nods and hurries out of the room again. I lift Casey into my arms, her legs wrapping around me automatically and her embrace tightening as we rise from the bed. She’s much heavier than I thought she’d be, but I don’t let that slow me down as we head for the bathroom. She whimpers and hiccups, her body trembling with exhaustion against me. “Shhh,” I murmur. “It’ll be okay, Casey, we’ll make you feel a little better.” I carry her down the hall and flip on the bathroom light. This apartment is bigger than Nick’s and laid out differently, but it’s easy enough to navigate.

  Painstakingly, so as not to throw my back out or jostle her around more than necessary, I set Casey on the toilet lid and kneel down on the linoleum. Her arms loosen around my neck, but she doesn’t let go as I slide the shower door open and start the water in the tub. Casey’s still sniffling and the occasional cry escapes her, but she fingers strands of my hair as I hold her against me and we wait.

  I run my fingers under the water. Lukewarm. “How does this feel?” I ask, motioning her to stick her fingers under the water stream. When she turns her face toward the tub, she just watches it, unmoving. I brush my wet hand over her arm. “Feel good?”

  With a slow, lethargic nod, she shuts her eyes again.

  “You know,” I say softly, “I was sick like this when I was little, too. My throat hurt so bad, and I was tired and hot, and a cool bath helped me feel better. Plus,” I add, “your funny friend next door is going to come visit you. He’ll make you feel better.”

  She nods absently, and I check the water level, wishing it would rise faster.

  “Juice?” Colton says behind me.

  I pull away from her a bit and peer up at him in the doorway. “Any luck?

  “On hold,” he says with the phone to his ear. He hands Casey a cup.

  Fluids. Yes. She nods and he leans in to hand it to her.

  The advice nurse comes back on the line, I can hear the garble of her words, and Colton steps back out into the hall. I help Casey get out of her sweat-dampened clothes and she climbs into the water. She plops down, almost like her little legs give out, then crosses them and stares at the water like she’s unsure what to think about it.

  “How’s the water feel?” I ask gently wetting her arms and trickling water down her back.

  Casey’s body trembles ever so slightly and with downtrodden, red-rimmed eyes, she looks at me. “It’s cold.”

  “It feels cold because you’re so hot,” I say, brushing her frizzy hair from her face. I tuck a wayward strand behind her ear. “Did you know,” I say with an air of intrigue, “that bunny rabbits have big ears so that they can stay cool when it’s really hot outside?”

  Casey just looks at me.

  “Maybe we should tug on your ears and make them bigger so you can cool down some more?” As I reach for her ear, she giggles—just a feeble little trill—but when her smile lingers and she drags her hands listlessly through the water, I allow myself to really breathe again. I rest the back of my hand against her forehead and smile in relief. “You already feel a little cooler.”

  There’s a plastic cup in the corner of the tub where a couple toys rest haphazardly. “Close your eyes,” I say, reaching for it. She nods and uses the back of her arm to wipe her snotty nose. Slowly, I dribble the water over her hair and it trickles down her neck. Goosebumps rise over her skin, but she doesn’t complain.

  When we’re finally finished and she’s wrapped in a towel, I hold up her cup of juice. “We’ll put this by your bed for you, okay?”

  Colton appears in the doorway and hands us a clean set of pajamas. I smile up at him. “How’s she look?”

  He makes a funny face at her. “Wet, that’s how she looks.” Casey yawns and grimaces as she tries to swallow. “Come here, Casey baby,” he says, crouching down. He reaches for her. “Nick’ll be here soon, then you can go to sleep.” Casey climbs up into his arms, wet and wrapped in her towel. The way she clings to him, like he can make every bad, painful feeling fade away just with his embrace—the way he clings to her—is heartbreakingly beautiful.

  And like Nick came in with the wind, the front door opens and Casey’s face brightens a bit.

  “There she is,” he quietly sings and rumples her damp hair. Nick hands Colton some sore throat medicine from his heavy bag of tricks. “A cocktail for the little lady,” he says playfully and taps his mouth as he studies her. “You don’t look so bad. I think you just needed to shower.”

  Casey smiles, bashful.

  “Okay, fellas,” I chime in and reach for Casey. “We need a moment to get dressed.” She climbs into my arms and I close the door on them so she can put her clothes on. It’s a slow and steady process, but when we’re finished and her hair is a bit drier I open the door. Casey eyes Nick, who’s still standing in the hallway, as she walks past him toward her bedroom. I lean up on tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “You’re a lifesaver,” I whisper. His smell is strangely comforting—a peppery lemon with a hint of tobacco. “Thank you.”

  Nick lets out a long, harried breath of relief, no doubt worried out of his mind since he got a freaked-out call from Colton,
and he follows me into her bedroom.

  Colton has Casey drink the last of the grape-colored liquid and then helps her climb into a freshly made bed. She struggles to do much of anything as she situates herself, but Colton’s gentle and patient and offers her quiet reassurances as he tucks her in.

  I smile a little. He’s not as clueless as he thinks he is, and after seeing the fear in his eyes—seeing his vulnerability—I know more than anything that he’s a good father and that Casey loves him, neither of which will ever change no matter his doubts.

  “Night, squirt.” Nick gives Casey a small wave. “I’ll be right next door if you need anything.” Her eyelids droop and we turn to leave.

  “Can Mac stay?” Casey rasps, and I still, both surprised and a little apprehensive. Turning around, I glance from Casey, whose eyes are still closed, to Colton, and I wait for his guidance. I’m not sure if this blurs any of the lines he was trying to draw between us, but it feels . . . big. But when Colton only shrugs, his eyes more apologetic than concerned, I realize I’m probably making it into something it’s not.

  She pries her eyes open again. “Of course I can stay with you,” I say, and the tension I suddenly feel lessens a tad when a small smile curves her tiny pink lips.

  “Do you sing?” she asks suddenly, hopeful.

  I stop mid-step, my cheeks heating with mortification at having to sing out loud. “I—not well, no.” When she simply stares at me, I say, “I can hum like a champ, though.”

  “Okay,” she says and with a meager attempt, she scoots over in her bed. I think she expects me to crawl in with her, but I’m not sure I’ll fit.

  “Here,” Colton says, seeing the problem. “Mac can have my chair—”

  “She needs a bed,” Casey whispers, and I don’t argue with her. I climb inside.

  Colton rubs his forehead and lets out an exhausted but slightly amused sigh as he watches me make myself fit to the best of my ability. She’s already snotted and cried enough on me to get me sick, so lying beside her can’t hurt at this point. When my eyes meet his, they linger. There’s a gentleness in their blue depths I’ve never seen.