The nurse comes to check up on me to take my temperature and my blood pressure, and to give me my cup of pain meds. After eating some crackers, I fall asleep.
The click of the opening door wakes me, and I open my eyes to a familiar figure standing next to my bed.
“Damon.”
“Hey, babe. ”
“How did you know I was in here?”
“I followed the ambulance to the hospital. I was here when they first brought you in.”
“Thanks. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t thank me. I couldn’t stay with you all night. I had to go to a job. I’d already missed a few shifts, and I couldn’t miss another one, otherwise I’d be sacked. Anyway, Ryder was here with me and he said he’d look after you, so I felt a bit better for having to go. So, where is he now?”
“He… uh… he left.”
Damon furrows his brow, so I say, “Long story.”
“Elle, don’t tell me…”
I look up at the ceiling, hoping he won’t press on, but of course he does. “You threw him out, didn’t you? You must have. He would never leave you here by yourself. You should have seen him when he came into the ER. He was out of his mind with worry. He’s normally so cool, it was weird seeing him lose control of himself. And once we were allowed in the ICU, I’m sure he’s been by your side non-stop. That’s why I could leave; I knew he’d stay here with you. There’s no way in hell he would have left here willingly.”
I take a deep breath. “Okay. I admit it. I sent him away. But Damon, he broke his promise. He promised me he wouldn’t do any more street races. And that night I saw him, about to start a race with Mikey Miller.”
Averting his eyes, Damon rubs his neck.
“Um… about that. I heard Mikey has been bragging about how much of a sissy Ryder is. Apparently they were about to start when Ryder suddenly pulled out. Mikey claims it’s because he was so scared that he’d rather pay him off than race against him. But my take is that he couldn’t go through with it because of you, and the promise he’d made. I think you mean a lot to him.”
“I don’t think so. If I did, he wouldn’t be there in the first place.”
Damon shakes his head. “I don’t know what happened between you two. But if it were me, I wouldn’t give up so easily. What you guys have is rare to find.”
I guess he is right. It feels special between us. But is it enough to overcome our differences? Is it enough to cope with the fights and the heartache that are bound to come our way?
I doubt it.
“By the way, I’ve got a surprise for you.” Damon walks to the door and opens it a crack.
“You can come in now,” he says.
The door opens wider, but I don’t see anyone entering until a mop of blond hair appears beside my bed.
“Elle!”
Jimmy’s beaming smile looks up at me, and I can’t help but grin back.
“You’ve got a cast. That’s soooo cool. Can I write on it? Please, please, please?”
His enthusiasm makes me burst out laughing. Only Jimmy knows how to cheer me up.
“Of course you can. Maybe you can draw a picture on it. That’s going to help me get better soon.”
“Okay. I’ll draw a picture of me and you in a Porsche.”
While he starts scribbling on my cast, Damon turns to me.
“I found him on the street, close to your apartment. I recognized him from the soup kitchen. You know, he was looking for you because he has some exciting news.”
“Yeah? What’s been happening, Jimmy?”
His blue eyes grow large.
“We’re going to move into a new apartment. And I’m gonna get my own room.”
“What do you mean? Can your mom afford to get an apartment?”
“Your friend helped us. He’s going to get us the apartment when the building is finished.”
“My friend?”
“Yeah, your friend who had dinner with us in the soup kitchen. Ryder. He helped us to get the place where we’re staying now. And later we’ll move into the new building and I’ll get my own room. I’m going to paint it all blue, my favorite color.” He grins from ear to ear.
“What do you mean? You have a place to stay?”
“It’s a studio just around the corner from you,” says Damon, and Jimmy quickly adds, “But we’re moving once the new building is finished.”
I knit my brow. He must be talking about the new development. So Ryder found him and his mom a studio, and he must have set aside a new apartment for them. After seeing him interact with Jimmy the other time, I could have guessed he’d do something like that. A pang of resentment rips through me. With my inheritance, I would be able to help him if Ryder hadn’t stepped in. But the moment the selfish thought enters my mind, I chastise myself for it. All that matters is that Jimmy is taken care of, that he can lead the life that any five-year old boy should. A boy who’d chatter non-stop about his room, exactly as he does now.
“Elle, you’ll come over to see my new room, right? Ryder says he will.”
I swallow. “Yeah, of course. Sure.”
After Damon and Jimmy leave, I clutch my chest. A heavy weight is bearing down on me—guilt because of the way I treated Ryder. From the get-go, I’ve been suspicious and distrustful of him, always on the look-out for his hidden agenda, assuming he’d be far too rich and good-looking to go after someone like me.
Only now do I realize I may have been wrong. He has never done anything to hurt me. On the contrary, everything he’s done proves that he cares for me. And just when I should finally be ready to trust him, what do I do? Chase him away.
I’ve tried to convince myself again and again that I’m better off without him, but my mind keeps on conjuring up memories of him—of his fiery gaze, his burning touch, his smoldering kisses. Memories that provoke a visceral reaction in my traitorous body: an intense craving that only he can fulfill.
Maybe I was wrong in assuming that we could never work out. Maybe Damon is right—where can I find someone like him again? Maybe I shouldn’t have let him go. Sometimes it is easier to let things fall apart than trying to make it work.
I know I don’t deserve him. But I can try to be better.
I can choose to make myself deserve him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ryder
I am impressed.
Looking around me, I can hardly recognize what was once a dim, dingy dining hall. But after the renovation, it has transformed into a fresh, inviting place for dining and socializing. The floors have been re-linoed, the walls have received a lively lick of paint, and the old tables and chairs have been replaced by colorful furniture in a variety of shapes. A stainless steel serving counter encloses the enlarged kitchen that is fitted out with professional appliances. A self-serve salad bar and a couple of flatscreen TVs on the wall complete the renewed soup kitchen’s dining hall.
My hard work of the past three months has paid off. After leaving the hospital, I felt devastated and heartbroken all over again. But instead of turning to booze, I threw myself into work. I decided to get personally involved in my philanthropic projects. Where I used to set a charity budget and got my staff to allocate the funds, I now research the projects myself and meet the people involved.
My philanthropic efforts focus on homelessness, an issue that is close to my heart due to my past. It was hard at first. Engaging with the homeless first-hand evoked painful memories, especially when confronted with families forced to live on the streets.
The other day I met Peter, a former truck driver who lost his job during the financial crisis and who spent the little savings he had to pay for his wife’s medical bills. Unable to meet the mortgage payments, their little apartment in Queens was repossessed while he and his two three-year-old twins were in the hospital to visit his wife, who was dying from breast cancer. Life on the street has been tough for him and his kids, barely surviving by moving from shelter to shelter and eating in the soup kitchens
.
I almost shed a tear when he told me his story. It brought home how important the work is that I am doing. Families like Peter’s deserve to get a new lease on life by moving into the new development, a project that occupies most of my time. But with all permissions cleared and strong support from the mayoral office, it is well under way, slated to be finished at the end of the year. In the mean time, I have been helping Peter, Jimmy and his mom, and other families to find temporary accommodation.
The soup kitchens have also attracted my attention, and I am overseeing the renovation and upgrade of the most dilapidated ones, including the one that Elle used to volunteer at. I’ve made sure that more people can be accommodated to enjoy the tasty and nutritious meals devised by chefs and prepared by volunteers. Contributions by businesses and wealthy individuals pay for the cooking ingredients.
Even if it has only been a few months, the renovated soup kitchens have proven to be a success, becoming so popular that the length of the queues hasn’t shrunk much. But I am hopeful that with time, the additional soup kitchens that are being upgraded will remedy this.
Before I got personally involved in all these projects, I’d never anticipate the effect it would have on me. Not only does it give me a thrill to help design the renewed dining areas, but to see the joy on people’s faces when they see them for the first time is immensely satisfying.
It may not be much, but it gives me just that little solace I need to ease my excruciating heartbreak, which only worsened when Elle rejected all my offers of help, including the daily delivery of lilies and freshly-cooked food.
I’ve tried to get her the best medical specialists and physiotherapists to support her recovery. Yet she has refused to see them, blocked me from paying her hospital bills, and even sent me a check to repay me the rent money. It’s clear she wants nothing to do with me.
Still, I can’t help but worry about her. How can she pay me back as well as afford her medical care? Even though I know I shouldn’t, I couldn’t resist getting my PI to keep an eye on her. Thankfully I’ve had enough restraint to ask him not to give me any detailed information about her life, only to report serious problems she is facing. I keep telling myself I’m not really spying on her; I’m just making sure she’s okay.
“Mr De Luca, how wonderful to see you again.”
Kate, the manager of the soup kitchen and the adjoining shelter, strides up to me, her brown curls bouncing with each step. Shaking my hand, she sits down next to me.
“Thank you for coming at such short notice.”
“Please call me Ryder. And it is great to be here. This place looks absolutely fantastic.”
“Yes, it is, all thanks to you. We’ve been able to feed at least a quarter more people after the remodeling. And everyone loves the new menu. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“No problem. I’m happy to see it’s all worked out.”
Kate nods. “This year looks promising for the homeless, especially with the support we’re getting from the new mayor. And all your projects are going to be a tremendous help.”
“There is still so much to be done. Especially when it comes to homeless families.”
“Yes, that’s why I asked you to meet me today. I’d like to ask you for a favor. A friend of mine has just started a new initiative to help homeless kids. It’s an app called Lighthouse City.”
“I’ve heard people talking about it. What is it, exactly?”
“Through the app, you can access a database of homeless shelters in the city, to check where places will be available and booking them for the night.”
“It sounds interesting.”
“It’s going to be a great help. With this app, the shelters will be able to become more efficient and offer many more kids a roof over their heads for the night. Anyway, my friend needs more investors and that’s why I thought of you. She’ll be here soon to talk to you about it. Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Have a look and see what you think.”
Kate hands me an electronic tablet before she disappears into the kitchen. She soon returns with a cup of coffee and a small plate of cookies, but I am already engrossed in the Lighthouse City web app, which is subtitled “A Beacon for Homeless City Kids”.
I discover that with a few clicks, kids can find the places that are available at the various homeless shelters in the database. Once they find a place to stay, they can request transport through the website to get them there, for free. At the moment the database only includes temporary shelters, but in the future it will also add permanent housing, matching the kids’ profiles with the most suitable places.
As I keep reading about the app, sparks of excitement enter my veins. It’s a great initiative that will make a difference in the lives of a lot of homeless kids. I wonder how I could get involved, not just by throwing money at it, but also by actively contributing ideas. I am already thinking how it could be expanded to include adults and families, and how we can use the individual profiles to provide essentials like food, clothing and toiletries.
Absentmindedly sipping my lukewarm coffee, I take a cookie off the plate and put it in my mouth. To my surprise, it tastes delicious. It reminds me of Elle’s almond cookies—they taste vaguely similar. I shake my head. When will I ever stop thinking of her?
I direct my attention back to the tablet, opening up the “About” page. I am curious how this project has come about. Apparently, Kate’s friend came up with the idea for the app a while ago while doing volunteer work for the city’s homeless shelters. A recent financial windfall has given her the means to turn her dreams into reality. Every day, more and more shelters are signing up for the app, and the first group of kids who have used it are enthusiastic. I am amazed at how much she has accomplished in such a short time.
At the bottom of the page is a dedication.
This project could not have been realized without the inspiration of a very special person.
He taught me that life is about the choices you make, and that we have the power of turning the negative into positive.
This charity is dedicated to you. You will always have a special place in my heart.
For some inexplicable reason, this sends a shiver up my spine. I completely agree with making choices in life; I couldn’t have said it better myself. A memory emerges, of Elle and I sitting on a rock near the lighthouse, talking about exactly this. And then it hits me: I have a choice to make, too.
No matter how much work I have been burying myself in the last three months, I can’t deny I have missed Elle. God, how I’ve missed her—it has been hell without her. She has made it abundantly clear she doesn’t ever want to see me again, but somehow I have to reach out to her and try to make it up between us.
When she broke up with me, I didn’t make a lot of objections; in fact, hardly any. I simply walked away, telling myself I was respecting her wishes. But in reality, wasn’t it easier for me to leave instead of opening myself up to her, instead of telling her how I really felt… instead of making a commitment? I realize now that I shouldn’t have let the love of my life slip away without a fight. I just hope it isn’t already too late.
A loud click tells me a door is opening behind me, and as soon as it does, Kate’s laughter reverberates through the dining hall.
“Ryder, I’d like you to meet my friend. The maker of the Lighthouse City app.”
Smiling, I stand up and turn around, but my heart stops beating when I see who is walking through the door.
Elle
Ryder looks as perfect as I remember him.
I am rooted to the spot, unable to say a word. My gaze zeroes in on him like a magnet, taking in his well-worn jeans and black leather jacket, and remembering the velvety feel against my skin. The charcoal gray shirt under his jacket is similar to the one he was wearing after our race at his country estate. Imagining the hard, defined muscles underneath makes a shiver travel up my spine.
How I’ve missed gliding
my hands across the stubble of his defined jaw and through his mussed up hair. How I’ve missed pulling him against me for a fiery kiss. Letting out a small sigh, I force myself to look away from his full, soft lips.
Mistake.
Because instead, his eyes draw me in. His dark, dark gaze grips mine with such force that I’m hurtled into another dimension where time does not exist; a place we’ve been before, where there is simply the two of us, connected through our gaze.
It is only when I feel Kate squeezing my arm, whispering, “Good luck,” that I crash back to earth.
Ryder steps towards me, one long stride at a time, and my legs start trembling. If not for my crutches, I would have crumpled to the floor at his feet. I am holding on so tight, my arms feel painfully tense. I don’t know if this was such a great idea after all.
“Hey,” he says with a half-grin, his dark eyes raking me from top to bottom and finally settling on mine. “You look great.”
To my relief, his low, gravelly voice is devoid of any pity, but expresses a longing that matches the glint in his eyes. Dragging his hand through his silky hair, Ryder closes in on me until I am surrounded by his body heat and his familiar spicy cologne. My heart starts hammering, and the yearning I’ve tried to suppress in the past three months blossoms in my chest. All I can think about is how I’ve missed his lips on mine, his body pressed to mine.
As if he has read my thoughts, he says, “Missed me, beautiful?”
I manage a small nod while he bends over and whispers in my ear, “Me, too.”
I inhale his masculine scent—the scent that is all him—and a shudder goes through my body. I have forgotten the effect he has on me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, looking down at the floor.
His finger slips under my chin, lifting it up. “It should be me saying sorry.”
I shake my head. “No, I should have trusted you. You’ve been nothing but good to me. I guess it was just easier to push you away than trying to work it out.”
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