Slow Grind (Men of Mornington Book 1)

by Missy Johnson

  “Sure, Aubs.” He leans over and kisses me softly on the cheek. “Go home, and I’ll come by later?”

  “Okay.”

  I leave the stairwell and walk through the foyer and out the front door. While I wait for a cab, I think about things. How quickly life can change. How one second things can seem one way and in the blink of an eye, everything changes.

  I thought I’d handled what happened to me in college, but Drew is right. I obviously haven’t. I thought I was over Drew, but I’m not. I need to figure out what I want out of life and what I’m willing to risk and sacrifice to get it.

  As I slide into the backseat of the cab I’ve hailed, my phone rings. I dig it out of my handbag and see that it’s Jacey. Smiling, I press answer. She’s just what I need right now.

  “Hey, you,” I grin.

  “Where are you?” she screeches.

  I laugh. “What do you mean where am I?”

  “Well, I’m standing out in front of your brother’s apartment, where I’ve been ringing the doorbell for the last fifteen minutes, trying to figure out where you are.”

  “What?” I laugh. “You’re here? In Australia?”

  “Yes! I guilted my parents into rewarding me for doing so well on my finals,” she giggles. “Never mind I haven’t even gotten my results yet! Oh. Wait, I need to tell you something and you’re probably going to be angry with me, but it wasn’t my fault.”

  “Jacey,” I giggle. “Stop rambling and just tell me.”

  “Nate is with me. Well, he was until I lost him at the airport. I haven’t seen him since we got off the plane.”

  “What do you mean Nate is with you? You invited Nate? Jacey!” Nate is the last person I want to see right now. What in God’s name possessed her to bring him along?

  “It was an accident! I kind of told him I was coming to visit you and he insisted on coming, too. I couldn’t tell him you were shacking up with some hot Aussie, so I said sure, come with. You know how I get when I’m put under pressure,” she says. “Do you hate me? Please don’t hate me, Aubs.”

  “I don’t hate you,” I sigh. Why wasn’t I just more direct with Nate in the first place? I should have told him we were over. “I’m on my way back to my place now. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Drew

  “Drew—”

  “Jesus, Darla, take the fucking hint. I’m not interested,” I growl. I push past her, ignoring her desperate pleas for attention, and storm into my apartment, all but slamming the door in her face. I’m so angry that she all but ruined things with Aubs.

  I pace my living room, at a loss on what to do. I need to give her space, but at the same time, I don’t want to risk her getting some stupid idea in her head about what kind of guy I am. What she saw was nothing more than me shutting Darla down—something I should’ve done a long time ago.

  That’s not even the worst bit.

  When she told me about what happened to her in college, I wanted to kill the guy responsible for making her feel that way. Any dude who thinks it’s okay to hit a chick and do God-knows-what-else deserves to rot in hell. Whatever happened to her, she’s obviously not over it. Maybe I should speak to Max. I laugh. And say what? I’m worried about your sister, because after fucking her, she thought she caught me getting head off another chick and then she mistakenly thought I was going to hit her because of some PTSD she’s suffering from because of some psycho who roughed her up in college? That will go down well. Why don’t I tell him his mother hit on me while I’m at it?

  My phone rings and I grab it, hoping it’s Aubrey. Cam’s name flashes on the screen and I fight off disappointment.

  “Hey, man,” I say, forcing myself to sound normal.

  “Hey. So I’ve totaled up our earnings. The bad news is we barely broke five thousand.”

  “Ah, shit,” I mutter. I swing around and park my arse on the arm of the couch. Lifting my hand, I rub the back of my neck, feeling defeated. With that figure, it’s not even worth continuing. I was sure we’d crack at least twenty. “Well, that sucks.”

  “Let me finish before you stress yourself out,” Cam urges me. I sigh but shut up, though I’m not sure what he could say that will make this any better. “I had a call from a dude in Sydney who does the event management for one of the biggest hotel chains in the country. They want to book us exclusively, and they guarantee if we commit to ten shows, they’ll fund Max’s treatment. They’ve got sponsors lined up and everything. All we have to do is agree.”

  “Seriously? Just like that?” I laugh. “That’s great news. Have you told the others yet?”

  “Nope. You’re the first. I’ll call Sam and Nash if you can let Aubs and Em know?”

  “Yeah, no problem. I was about to go and see Max, too, so I’ll let him know.”

  Ending the call, I dial Em and get her voicemail. I think about calling Aubs but decide to go and see her after I visit with Max and give him the great news. At least I have a good excuse to see Aubrey now and won’t look like some sort of pathetic fuckwit, even though I kind of am. I grab my jacket and keys and walk out, checking first that Darla isn’t hanging around, waiting for me.

  “Maxwell Rosewood’s room, please,” I state to the middle-aged woman sitting at the information desk.

  “Bed fourteen. Visiting hours for the I.C.U are over in an hour,” she informs me, then goes back to typing away.

  The lift ride to the floor that holds the I.C.U is filled with stops on almost every level—doctors and nurses getting on and off, family members carrying balloons and flowers. When my floor finally illuminates on the indicator overhead, I breathe a sigh of relief. I follow the signs to Max’s room and softly knock before entering, just in case he’s actually getting some rest.

  “Come in,” he responds, but his voice isn’t strong, not like it usually is.

  “You’re really milking this whole cancer thing, aren’t you?” I ask, joking of course. Looking around his room, dozens of cards and vases fill the window sill, and there’s just about every kind of boxed chocolates you can imagine lined up on this bedside table.

  “I should have thought of this years ago. Cancer mixed with pneumonia makes all the kindness come out in people. Though, I do have to ask, what’s a guy gotta do to get a decent feed around here?” He laughs and coughs at the same time. With all the machines beeping, buzzing and dripping, I’m surprised he’s able to get any kind of rest at all.

  “How ya holding up, mate?” I step over to his bed, sitting down at the very end, careful not to sit on the cords connected to some weird compression sock-looking things that seem important.

  “It could be worse. Actually, it will be. My mother went to harass the doc for more pain meds. She’ll be back soon.” He rolls his eyes, and I laugh. I know the man loves his mother, but one person can only take so much before they snap. Rosalind Rosewood happens to bring that out in a lot of people, especially her children.

  “Want me to break you out of here?” I waggle my eyebrows and try to convince myself that if he says yes, I can manage to free him of all the equipment surrounding him.

  “If I thought you could take out an IV without killing me, I might take you up on it.” Excellent choice, Max. I probably wouldn’t kill him, but I would most likely hurt him badly.

  “We made about five grand last night,” I offer, wanting to get the bad news out of the way before I hit him with the good.

  “Well, that’s shit, isn’t it? Not even enough for the flight,” he sighs in defeat and closes his eyes.

  “Before you go dying, I have better news.” I go on to tell him about the hotel chain, the deal, the treatment, and that we’re actually getting to go as soon as everyone signs off on the contract. It’s perfect; a blessing that came at just the right time.

  “You mean to tell me you guys were so good, a hotel wants to book you for nearly a dozen shows?”

  “Yeah, so you’re gonna need to get your shit together so you’re able to fly.”


  “I have another chest x-ray scheduled for later today. Hopefully, the fluid’s gone and they can send me home. This is insane. Is this really happening, or did my mom get back with the good stuff and I’m tripping?”

  “It’s happening, mate. Before you know it, you’ll be in Switzerland getting the best treatment by the best doctors the world’s ever seen. You’re going to be just fine. And I hear Swiss nurses are the hottest in the world. Nothing but straight blonde hair, giant tits and legs for days, brother.”

  “You guys are pretty fucking awesome. I’d be lost without you.” He starts coughing again, and the wheezing concerns me. I’m going to say a few prayers. If that kind of stuff works, now’s the best time to use it because Max can’t fly with fluid on his lungs. He has to just have the cancer, no other life-threatening diseases or illnesses. He needs this. We all do. Especially Aubrey. He’s got to get well enough to travel.

  “Shut up, you big softie. I’m going to head out and talk to you later.”

  On my way out the door, I run square into Rosalind, who looks pissed and irritated. “Hey, Ms. Rosewood.”

  “Where is my daughter? She should be here with her brother. He’s not doing well.”

  “Aubrey’s fine. She’s just fine. And Max is going to be better soon. We’ve got the money for the treatment. He just has to get rid of the pneumonia so he can fly.”

  “That’s easier said than done, Andrew.”

  “Just breathe, okay, Ms. Rosewood?” I say sympathetically. She’s a strange woman, but I’m not sure I’d be sane if my child were deathly ill. She gets credit for not being totally bat-shit crazy. I place my hand on her shoulder and squeeze softly. “He’s going to make it. We’ve got it.”

  “Thank you, Andrew.” The tears spill over her lids and I give her a quick hug, reassuring her it’s under control. “You boys have been close since diapers. I know how much you mean to each other, I always have, but the last few weeks have proven to me that my son has the best of friends. I couldn’t be happier for him.”

  I decide to pop back into Max’s room, wanting to make sure his mum lets him get some rest. When I enter, he’s paler than he was before, and his eyes are closed. The blue light—the one on the ceiling—flashes, and an alarm sounds from one of the machines he’s hooked up to. This can’t be happening. Not when we’re so close.

  “Nurse!” I scream and stare at the monitors as if I know what I’m looking at. I’m no doctor, but the numbers for his blood pressure are way too low, the same as his heart rate.

  “You’ll have to wait outside,” the nurse calmly states, squeezing between the bed and me. A doctor enters soon after, and together, the pair works seamlessly in silence. The nurse places a mask with a bag attached to it over Max’s mouth, and the doctor uses his stethoscope on Max’s chest.

  “Push one round of epi,” the doctor calls, and the nurse already has the syringe in her hand, awaiting his command.

  As soon as the medication is administered, the excessive beeping slows to a regular pace and the hospital staff appear less panicked.

  “What’s going on? What’s happening?” Rosalind asks next to me. I put my arm around her shoulder and pull her into me. I’m not sure if she needs the comfort; however, I know I do.

  “You really need to wait outside. Please. Come with me.”

  A nurse escorts Rosalind and me out of the room, giving us two chairs to sit in right outside the door. With my head in my hands, I wait. There’s nothing to do except wait. It seems like hours go by, and Max’s room is still filled with hospital staff. Deciding it’s the time to call Aubrey, I pull out my phone, and before I can dial, I see her racing down the hallway.

  “I just called to see how he was and they told me he wasn’t great. They actually suggested I come down and say goodbye, just in case,” she whispers. “My own mother couldn’t pick up the phone to tell me he was that bad? Neither could you?”

  “She’s a wreck, Aubrey. We were waiting. It all happened so fast. One second he was talking and cracking jokes, the next, he’s lying there unresponsive,” I say, not sure why I’m feeling the need to defend her mother. Who knows, maybe it’s pity. In a way, she’s losing both her kids, because without Max, I can’t see Aubs keeping in touch.

  “We all are,” Aubrey says. “That’s no excuse.” She looks past Rosalind and me and into the room at Max. I stand back as she rushes to his bedside and hovers over Max’s lifeless body. “You wake the fuck up right now, dammit,” she mutters to him. She reaches over and strokes his cheek.

  “I’ll leave you alone,” I say quietly.

  “No,” Aubrey cuts in. “Stay. Please.”

  The doctors say sometimes the body shuts down when it needs to rest, and apparently, Max is stable, just in a sort of coma. They assure us it’s nothing life-threatening, but with Max, everything is life or death. Aubrey refuses to leave, as do I. Rosalind excuses herself to speak more with the doctors, and we chat with Max as if he’s awake.

  When nighttime rolls around, Aubrey still has no plans to leave. “Let me take you back to Max’s place, so you can at least shower and eat a meal. You’re not looking so good, Aubs.”

  “I’m fine. Just don’t leave, okay?” I can’t tell if it’s Max that makes her weak, or if it’s me. I really hope it’s not me, because everything I’ve seen of her, the girl has a fire that sets her apart from the rest. I’d hate to be the reason that fire burns out. If she wants me here, I’m here; I can’t tell her no.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I sit on the floor in the corner of the room, watching her sleep. She looks so peaceful, hunched over in her seat, her hand wrapped tightly around Max’s. Every so often, the nurses come in and take Max’s vitals, but Aubs doesn’t even stir. She’s so exhausted; she’d sleep through anything right now.

  Somewhere between watching her and the nurses, I fall asleep. A notification from my phone jars me awake. Cracking my eyes, I gather my bearings and assess the time. It’s five in the morning. I shiver and get to my feet, my jacket in my hands. Checking in on Aubrey, who is fast asleep in the chair, her body bent into positions that I know are going to be painful in the morning, I place the jacket over her. She stirs but doesn’t wake. I lean over her and smile, the sweet scent of her perfume overwhelming me. She’s so fucking perfect.

  I watch her for a few seconds longer before I quietly leave the room. She’s not going to go anywhere until Max is okay, so it’s up to me to make sure she’s still looking after herself.

  Pulling up outside Max’s apartment, I turn off the engine. The sun is just beginning to rise, and the park opposite his complex is slowly filling with morning joggers. I shake my head. Why anyone would willingly get up this fucking early is beyond me. I have a hard enough time dragging my arse out of bed to go to work. Speaking of which… I whip out my phone and compose a text to Wayne, telling him I can’t come in. I’ve had more time off these past few weeks than in my whole eight years working there. I hope he understands, but in the end, even if he doesn’t, I’d lose my job before I’m not there for Max and Aubs.

  I’m outside Max’s apartment, about to slip my key into the lock, when I see the dent in the wall beside the door. I chuckle and run my fingers over the cracked plaster, feeling nostalgic. Two years ago, after a big night out, we decided the only thing to do was play a game of footy in the hallway. At three in the morning. Sam and I were a point behind with only seconds to go when I crash-tackled Max into the wall and nearly broke the poor guy’s hand. We won, but his neighbours were less than impressed. Two years and it still hasn’t been fixed. So much for extra fees paid for excellent management. I smile wistfully and let myself into the apartment.

  Clicking on the light, I survey the place, not sure where to start. In the end, I grab a backpack I find in the kitchen pantry and start with the bathroom, throwing a handful of products that look like they could be Aubrey’s. They’re girly enough, but then again, they could just as easily be Max’s.

&nbs
p; Walking into her bedroom, I flick on the light and begin throwing clothes into the bag. I sit down on the edge of the bed to grab a pair of shoes peeking out from under the base when something next to my arse moves. I jump up, cursing, ready to protect myself from whoever—or whatever—it is.

  “What the hell?”

  A petite, blonde chick about the same age as Aubrey literally jumps out of the bed. Her American accent is strong, so right away I know she has to be a friend of Aub’s from the States—Jacey. She picks up a random duster from beside the table next to her and holds it in front of herself menacingly.

  “Who the hell are you?” I ask, wanting to confirm she’s who I think she is and not some crazy stalker intent on living in Aubrey’s life. I’m both embarrassed and annoyed that Aubs didn’t mention anyone was staying with her. It would’ve been nice to know before I scared the life out of her friend.

  “Who am I? Who are you?” she gasps, her eyes wide with fear. “Get out or I’ll…”

  “You’ll what?” I laugh. “Dust me?” She throws it at me in disgust and bolts from the room.

  “I’ve got my cell, and I’m calling the police!” she yells from the kitchen.

  “Calm down, okay? I’m a friend of Aubrey’s. I’m Drew.” I stalk back into the kitchen, wishing I had my wallet or something to prove who I am. “She’s at the hospital with her brother, so I thought I’d pick up some of her things for her.”

  “You’re Drew?”

  “Yes. How’d you know?”

  “Oh, I know things,” she responds with a wink. “Aubrey sent me a picture of you guys in the car, but it didn’t do you justice.” As if nothing happened, she moves into the kitchen and starts putting together things for a pot of coffee. “Anyway, how’s her brother? When she let me in yesterday, we were supposed to catch up, but she rushed out quickly. I hope it’s okay I made myself at home.”