by Susan Stoker
“I’ll be ready,” he said confidently.
“Good. Now, let’s go over the layout of the city,” Gramps said, spreading a large map out on the table.
Three hours later, Eagle and the rest of his team left the safe room and made their way upstairs. The sun was setting, and there had been a shift change at Silverstone Towing. Looking around, he didn’t see Taylor in the great room.
“She’s sleeping,” Leigh said. “I swear that woman can sleep through a tornado. No one was quiet when they were here earlier, but even with the door open to the room she crashed in, she didn’t move.”
Eagle knew that was because she was exhausted after a sleepless night. He’d gotten a nice nap that morning while she’d worked, but she’d obviously finally crashed after a long evening and day.
“Thanks, Leigh,” he told her, pleased to see that she was wearing the name tag Skylar had brought over. She’d made tags for all the employees, and no one had complained about wearing them. Even when Taylor wasn’t around, everyone had gotten in the habit of putting on their tags when they came in the door.
He walked silently down the hall and found the room where Taylor was napping. She was on her side, with one arm stretched out, as if reaching for something. The other was tucked under the pillow.
Eagle hated to wake her, but he wanted to get her home. He ached to bring her to his apartment, to his bed, but since they’d just made up after their first fight, he figured he needed to move at her pace.
He loved her so much. Almost losing her with his careless words had affected him even more than he’d thought it would.
“Taylor,” he said softly, sitting in the crook of her legs. She rolled toward him a bit, but didn’t stir. “Flower, wake up,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder and lightly shaking her.
Her eyes fluttered, then opened in slits.
“Hey, Flower, I need to get you home.”
“You done with your meeting?” she asked sleepily.
“Yeah.”
“It go okay?”
“As good as it could,” Eagle answered honestly.
“You leaving?”
He blinked at her insight, nodding. “Yeah.”
“When?” she asked.
“Sunday. Probably early.”
“That’s only two days from now,” she complained.
Wanting to smile because it was obvious she was still drowsy, Eagle merely nodded. “It is.”
“Well, shoot. I know I said no earlier, but you caught me off guard. I wouldn’t mind if you visited the dementia center with me,” she told him. “I think I’d probably feel less vulnerable if you were there. It always takes me the rest of Sunday to feel normal again. Well, normal for me. But I think if you were there with me, I’d be able to get over the off-kilter feeling faster.”
Her words meant the world to him. “Can I have a rain check?” he asked.
“Of course.” Taylor pushed herself up on a hand. He was still sitting next to her, blocking her from moving her legs over the side of the mattress. “I’m ready to go if you are.”
Eagle gently brushed her hair off her face.
“Eagle?” she asked tentatively.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to move. Standing, he held out his hand. “Come on, Flower, let’s get you home.”
She grabbed his hand and let him help her up. “I talked to some of your employees, and they said that I should take my car to Stanley Automotive. That he’s the best around.”
“They’re right. I’ll take care of it tomorrow for you.”
“That’s not necessary. I can do it,” she said. “You’ve probably got a lot of stuff to do to get ready for wherever it is you’re going.”
She was right. They did have a lot to do, but he could take the time to bring her car to Stan. “It’s not a problem, Tay.”
“Okay. Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“Stan’ll have a loaner car you can use while he’s working on yours. Although I don’t think it’ll take too long to replace that bumper . . . as long as nothing else was damaged. If I’m not back by the time he’s done, he’ll call you, and you can go and pick it up. Do you have enough to cover the cost?” he asked a little hesitantly.
“I do. I’m assuming you don’t think Thanatos is going to take care of it?”
Eagle winced.
“No, don’t answer that,” she said before he could respond. “He won’t. It’s a lesson learned on my part.”
“I’m sorry you had to learn it the hard way.”
Taylor shrugged. “Do you know how long you’re going to be gone?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, no. I don’t want to even guess, because I don’t want you to worry if we don’t get back in my time frame.”
“I understand. I don’t like it, but I get it,” Taylor said. “You’ll be safe?”
“Yes,” he reassured her. “We always are. We never take unnecessary risks. The last thing we want is for one of us to get hurt or killed. We’re cautious, Taylor. Promise.”
“Good.” Then she stepped into him and rested her head on his chest and hugged him tightly. “I’m going to worry about you no matter what you say,” she admitted.
Eagle hugged her back, loving how she felt in his arms. They’d gotten pretty touchy feely lately, and ever since they’d fought and made up this morning, they’d been touching each other even more. He wasn’t complaining.
“I’ll let you know the second we get back,” he told her.
“Good.” She pulled away. “All right, let’s get going. There’s a doughnut in my apartment calling my name.”
“I can’t believe how many you already ate this morning,” Eagle teased.
“They’re my weakness—I can’t help it. And if you keep bringing them for me in two-dozen batches like you did this morning, I’m gonna weigh eight hundred pounds, so keep that in mind.”
Eagle followed behind her as she walked down the hall and couldn’t help but let his eyes land on her ass. It was round and gorgeous . . . and he’d already fantasized about how it would feel in his palms as she rode him.
If she thought she was anything but perfect, she was sadly mistaken. He’d bring her doughnuts for the rest of her life if it meant keeping her ass looking exactly how it did now.
“Did you hear me?” she asked as they crossed the great room.
“I heard you,” Eagle assured her.
“That smile on your face makes me nervous,” Taylor told him.
“It shouldn’t. I have only your best interests at heart,” Eagle said.
Taylor rolled her eyes, but chuckled.
After he’d taken her home and walked her up to her apartment and was driving to his place, Eagle began to strategize how he could move himself out of the friend zone. Nothing foolproof came to mind, but he had some time to think about it.
He was going to do whatever it took to maintain his friendship with Taylor, even while moving their relationship to the next level. He had a feeling it would be the best thing he’d ever done in his life. And he couldn’t wait.
Chapter Nine
Taylor didn’t want to think about where Eagle and his friends were going or what they would be doing. Well . . . she knew what they’d be doing, but that only made her more nervous. Intellectually, she realized they had to be very good at sneaking into foreign countries and taking out bad guys, but in her heart, the very idea scared her to death.
Earlier, she’d debated going to the Dementia Senior Care Center. What she really wanted to do was lie in bed with the covers up over her head, but if she didn’t go visit the residents, who would? There was one man who didn’t have any visitors except for her. And another woman only got to see her children once a month. Granted, both had no recollection of either of their families—or her, for that matter—but Taylor knew she’d feel guilty if she didn’t go.
For the hundredth time, she wished Eagle was there. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking, not wanting him with her. She had
a feeling he would’ve made her visit so much easier. He had a way of cutting through the bullshit in her head and making her believe that her condition didn’t matter in the larger scope of life. She was trying to believe that.
So here she was. Outside the center, sitting in the loaner car she’d been given to use while hers was being repaired.
Facing what her future might look like was always scary. A month ago, this had been her future. When she got old, she’d have to go into some home and be cared for by strangers. Because the nurses and doctors who worked in the home would be strangers. Every single person who came into her room would always be.
But now that she’d met Eagle, she’d begun to feel a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, she’d have him by her side when she got old . . . and that future didn’t seem so scary. Of course, that was ridiculous; just because someone was your friend didn’t mean they always would be. Or that they’d stand by you when you needed them the most. She’d learned that more than once.
But she had no doubt that if Eagle said he’d do something for her, he’d do it. That was just how he was. Who he was.
Taking a deep breath, Taylor pushed open her door and got out. She needed to get inside. She had work to do at home; delving into a boring textbook would be just what she needed to keep her mind off missing Eagle and wondering if he was all right.
Taylor entered the care center, and the smell of the place hit her right in the face. It wasn’t awful . . . she’d been in places that smelled worse than this, but it was still strong. Antiseptic, the bleach they used to clean the floors and surfaces, and a faint scent of urine. Some of the residents weren’t ambulatory and inevitably soiled their linens.
She walked up to the desk. “Hi, I’m Taylor Cardin, and I’m here to volunteer.”
The young woman sitting there glanced up from her phone. “Hi. I know it’s you, Taylor. You come here every week.” She sounded irritated. Taylor had told the employees about her prosopagnosia, but she didn’t seem to remember, or care, that Taylor couldn’t recognize her.
The employee grabbed a visitor’s badge and handed it over. “Here you go. You know the rules.”
And that was it.
Taylor was annoyed. For the safety of the residents, the person working the front desk should care a little more about who she was letting in and a little less about gossiping on social media. Knowing that saying anything would do no good, Taylor clipped the tag onto her shirt and headed down the hallway to her right. She would stop in and see how Mr. Clarkson was doing first. He was the man with no family who never had visitors.
She read the names on each door and was relieved to see Mr. Clarkson hadn’t been moved since last week when she’d been there. Sometimes that happened, and she had to hunt for her favorite residents. She’d also once made the mistake of not checking the names on the door and had spent thirty minutes talking to a woman, thinking she was someone else. Which was like a comedy of errors—Taylor thinking the woman was another resident, and the resident thinking Taylor was someone from her past.
Pushing open the door, Taylor swallowed hard as the smell hit her. It was always stronger in the individual rooms. She’d mostly gotten used to it, though. Mr. Clarkson was sitting on the side of his bed, looking down at the floor. He was wearing a hospital gown instead of his usual flannel pants and T-shirt.
“Hi, Mr. Clarkson,” she said softly. “It’s good to see you.”
“Ellen?” he said, his eyes lighting up as he looked to the door.
Taylor knew Ellen had been his wife. She’d died a few years ago, but Mr. Clarkson thought everyone who came through the door was his long-lost love.
“What are you doing just sitting there?” Taylor asked, knowing it was better not to deny she was his wife, that he wouldn’t know who she was anyway if she said her name.
“Ellen, where have you been? I’ve missed you!” Mr. Clarkson said and held out his hand.
Taylor walked over and took it in her own. His skin was mottled with age, and his grip was weak, but she barely noticed any of that. She did notice the back of his hand was bruised all to hell, and it made her heart hurt looking at it. It was obvious he’d had to have an IV put in at some point since she’d last seen him. He looked even more fragile than usual. And the fact that he wasn’t wearing his normal clothes was another cause for concern.
“Why don’t you lie back?” Taylor suggested.
“Don’t leave me!” Mr. Clarkson said, tightening his hold on her, his eyes going wide.
“I won’t,” Taylor reassured him. “Come on, lie down for me.”
He did, managing to keep hold of her hand the entire time.
Taylor pulled a chair close to the bed and leaned her elbows on the mattress. “How have you been?” she asked.
“Not good, not good,” Mr. Clarkson said. Then he went on and on about how terrible work had been lately and how their kids had been acting up. Taylor just sat and listened, making the appropriate sympathetic noises now and then so he knew she was there.
Over the months she’d been visiting him, Taylor had learned that he had a pretty tragic story. One of his children had been killed in a car accident, and the other, a daughter, was estranged. She’d gotten hooked on painkillers and was currently homeless, living out in Los Angeles somewhere. He had no siblings, and after his wife had died, there’d been no one to help take care of him at his home. He was literally all alone in the world, and it made Taylor’s heart ache for him.
An hour later, she slipped her hand out of Mr. Clarkson’s limp fingers and leaned over and kissed him on his wrinkled forehead as he slept. She wasn’t sure she was making a difference in the lives of the people she visited, but she liked to think so.
The rest of her visits were shorter. Mrs. Allen wasn’t in the mood to chat, Mr. Lloyd was too agitated for visitors, and a petite woman nicknamed Little Mama by her family was only concerned about the chocolates Taylor had brought and otherwise had no time to talk.
Her visits were always draining, so before driving home, Taylor went and sat in a small outdoor space. The care center was a huge square with long hallways of rooms, and in the middle, the developers had built a nice courtyard, a garden where the residents could sit without worrying the staff that they’d leave the grounds. There were a couple of residents there enjoying the sunshine, but Taylor made sure to sit away from them. She needed some downtime to get her head on straight before she went home to her lonely apartment.
Wishing Eagle was home so she could call him, Taylor sighed as she sat on a bench.
She’d only been there a few minutes when someone asked from nearby, “It’s hard, isn’t it?”
Looking up, she saw a man standing near her. Startled because she hadn’t heard him approach, Taylor nodded.
“I’m Jim. Jim Warton,” the man said, holding out his hand for her to shake.
Not wanting to be rude, Taylor reached out and shook his hand. It might’ve been her imagination, but she could’ve sworn the man held her hand a bit too long to be polite. When he did let go, she surreptitiously wiped her palm on her jeans and tried to think of a way to get out of conversing.
“May I sit?” Jim asked.
Mentally sighing and knowing she was going to be stuck talking to the man, she nodded.
He sat next to her, and it was only then that Taylor realized how small the bench was. She could feel the heat of his hip against hers . . . and it made her extremely uncomfortable.
“It’s hard seeing loved ones like this, isn’t it?” he asked.
Taylor nodded.
“You here visiting a parent?” he asked.
“No. I’m just volunteering,” Taylor told him.
“Really? Wow, that’s good of you. Most people don’t want anything to do with a place like this. They’re scared of the old people who act weird and can’t remember anything.”
For some reason, his words struck her as offensive. “They aren’t weird,” she defended them. “Most are just stuck in the p
ast, and they’re confused about where they are and why they can’t be with their families.”
“You’re right,” Jim said immediately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”
He didn’t sound all that sincere, but Taylor didn’t call him on it. Instead she asked, “Why are you here?”
“I’m looking for a place for my mom,” he told her. “I’ve been looking after her at home, but it’s gotten more and more difficult, for both her and me. It’s been the two of us for a long time, and I really don’t want to do it, but she’s not happy at home.”
“I’m sorry,” Taylor said, and she was. She was still getting weird vibes from the man, but she did feel for anyone who was trying to care for a loved one with dementia or Alzheimer’s.
“Thanks. She’s a wanderer. She’s constantly trying to get out of the house, and that scares me to death. She thinks she’s a prisoner. The last time she got out, she was telling everyone she saw that I was a horrible son and asking if she could live with them instead.”
Goose bumps rose on Taylor’s arms. The residents could say some pretty outlandish things, but most of the time their ramblings were rooted in memories of things that had actually happened in their lives.
The reason Eagle had been so upset with her the other night was really hammered home in this moment. He’d been scared for her safety. Because she’d given a complete stranger her home address. It had hurt when he’d called her stupid, but that was what she’d been. And she realized that she’d somehow gotten herself into another potentially dangerous situation.
Oh, she didn’t think the man next to her was going to grab her and try to kidnap her; it would be impossible, since the courtyard had no external access. It was surrounded on all four sides by the walls of the building. But still.
She was sitting with a stranger who she’d never be able to identify. He had on a regular pair of jeans and a nondescript white T-shirt. He could literally be almost anyone. He had no distinguishing features whatsoever. When she inhaled through her nose, trying to calm herself, she realized that he smelled like the care center. Bleach and urine. She wondered if that was because he’d been visiting or because of the mother he took care of at home.