On one of the couches, a woman sat with her face buried in her hands. Her whole body shook as she sniffled and blew her nose, piling the tissues up beside her.
“The files you brought are for her,” Sherri whispered. “Her little one was admitted yesterday. She’s having a tough time.”
“Is there a support group for her or something?”
“Formally, yes, at the hospital during the day. Informally, the other parents usually help. They’ll be along, but visiting hours haven’t really ended yet over at Children’s.”
I dug the files out of my bag and handed them to Sherri. I couldn’t drag my gaze away from the woman on the couch. My eyes filled with tears. “Okay if I hang out?”
“She might like that.” Sherri gave me a soft smile, then turned and walked back to her office.
As I approached the woman, my heart swelled. I sat down gently next to her, and she gave me one look, burst into tears again, and scrambled to pick up the tissues.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said.
“Do you have a kid here?” she asked as she looked at me with red, wet eyes.
I shook my head. “No, but I’ve been where you are. Kind of. Ten years ago, my dad had cancer. The first days are really hard.”
“My daughter Rachel just got diagnosed last week. Leukemia. They put her central line in yesterday and started chemo today.” She hiccupped through her tears. “I can still hear her screaming from when they put the line in. But I’d trade that for what she was like today. So tired. So still.”
I nodded. “The first couple days on chemo can be really bad. I remember being so scared. I thought he’d never move again.” I swallowed a lump in my throat as my own eyes filled with tears again.
She raised her eyes to mine, round and expectant. “But it got better?”
“Ah…” I fumbled for the right thing to say. I remembered how, with Dad, it did get better — until it got worse again. Then better, then way worse, and then the doctor came in to have the “six months to a year” talk with us.
But she definitely didn’t need to hear that.
Something incredible happened as I started to talk to her, though. My voice grew surer and steadier. I told her how we discovered that my dad was only hungry for Italian ice and mac and cheese, and we tried recipe after recipe until we found one that he loved. I told her about how he promised us he’d walk one lap around the floor for every good test grade we got. I told her about how cancer sucked, but those weeks I spent sitting by his side in the hospital were the most one-on-one time I’d ever gotten with him. When I ended, tears were streaming down my cheeks. I looked into her eyes and said, “She knows you love her. The pain of the central line and the chemo sickness will pass, but she’ll always know you love her.”
“Thank you.” The woman blew her nose one more time. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Theresa.”
I squeezed her hand. “Theresa, it’s gonna get better. And it’s been a pleasure talking to you.”
“You, too.”
“I’ve gotta run,” I said, cringing at the sheer volume of Orgo homework I knew lurked back in my room.
“But you’ll be back, right?” Her eyes flashed down to the Children’s Hospital badge still pinned to my clothing. Oh. She thought I was assigned to come here or that I worked here or…
The look in her eyes forbid me from saying anything other than what came out of my mouth next. “Of course I will. Of course.”
I knew two things: I had next-to-no time to be hanging out at Rowland House and sitting here with Theresa was the most fulfilling thing I’d done with myself all year.
I ducked into the bathroom to check my face on the way out — a total disaster, so much so that I pulled up my hood and wrapped my scarf around the bottom half of it just so I wouldn’t draw any attention to myself on the bus ride home.
I pushed out the door and sucked in a breath, turning my face down against the brutally whipping wind. My feet flashed over the flagstone walkway as I hurried to the covered bus stop a block away.
I was two feet from the main sidewalk when I smacked face-first into someone — a six-foot-tall, solid figure of lean muscle — pulling a dolly behind him. I rubbed my shoulder and stammered an apology, but he was tending to what the collision had knocked off the dolly. Ten huge, heavy-duty aluminum foil pans stacked inside large cardboard boxes had fallen onto the sidewalk behind him. Thank goodness they were quickly and easily tipped back upright, and there were no traumatic spills of whatever food was inside.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Let me help you,”
“No, it’s okay.” A casual gruff laugh came from the guy, who’d already picked up two of three of the boxes and situated them back on the dolly. I felt like I’d heard that voice before, but it could really have been anyone with the howling of this wind.
–That is, until I got close enough to see the skin between the guy’s gray knit hat and the collar of his jacket when he bent down. There were three tendrils of black ink on the back of his neck just like I’d seen on —
“Hawk!” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
He stood up, turning his head slowly and peering at me.
“I’m sorry — do I…”
I yanked my scarf down to uncover the lower half of my face. “Joey.”
He narrowed his eyes and peered at me harder. It was only then that I remembered exactly how awkward our introduction had been. I sighed and pointed to myself. “Josephine? From business class?”
Realization flooded his face. Those same icy blue eyes that had shocked me when I first saw him widened slightly with recognition — and completely took my breath away. His mouth dropped open, but before he could say anything, I blurted out, “What are you doing here?”
He pushed out a half-laugh. “Uh…food. For the House.”
My brow wrinkled in confusion.
“I work at a little place in the City. We bring whatever lunch bar food we can’t sell for an early dinner for these folks.” He gave a slight smile, and his eyes ’sparkled.
Damn. This guy was totally gorgeous. “Wow. That’s…”
“Yeah, and I’ve gotta get it in there before this food turns into chunks of ice. Tomorrow?”
“Uh…what?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow. For our project?”
When he said “project,” it was like a switch had flipped, like the magical, cold-repelling bubble containing his muscles and breathtaking eyes had burst.
“Right. Tomorrow. Library. Great.” A rude — albeit hot — guy and a group project for a class I didn’t want to be taking. Pretty much the opposite of ‘“great.”‘ “Uh…do you need help with that?” It was freezing, but I’d been raised to always go out of my way to help people.
Hawk snorted and gave me a once-over again. “You’re smaller than the dolly.” Then he brushed past me without another word, nearly knocking me off my feet. Smelling like cologne and warmth.
Not cigarette smoke.
My heart jumped, but I tamped it back down. What the heck was wrong with me? I yanked my scarf back up over my face, but my cheeks burned and I stared at my feet again.
Before I knew it, I was standing at the front door to the sorority house, key in hand. I’d completely forgotten to take the bus.
Chapter Five
After sweating through my Orgo homework for three agonizing hours, I’d collapsed in a heap on my bed, not even brushing my teeth, and stayed there until the sun woke me the next morning. Actually, I couldn’t tell whether it was the sun or the smell of the coffee Cat was waving in front of my face while she sat in my desk chair.
I inhaled sharply when I saw her, rubbing my eyes. “What the hell? Did your parents name you ‘Cat’ because you’re just like the Cheshire variety?”
Cat laughed. “No. But I figured if you wanted to make it on time to your Orgo class, I should probably raise you from the dead at some point before nine.”
“It’s nine?” I sc
rambled to my feet. “How in the hell…?” I stammered, digging for any pants I knew to be remotely clean, panic rising in my chest. If you’re not early, you’re late, my mother’s voice repeated in my head.
“Almost nine. What happened to you last night?” Cat could be so damn chipper since she met Nate. I was glad, but invading my room with coffee in the morning? It was like I didn’t even know her anymore.
After I’d pulled on a sweatshirt and run a brush through my hair, though, the coffee was certainly welcome. I managed to get half a mug down before I had to hunt for some breakfast in the kitchen — a banana and bagel with peanut butter — corralled Cat into a quick hug, and barreled out the front door to the bus stop.
The day flew by in a blur. I tried not to hyperventilate as my Orgo professor lectured on a whole new set of concepts when I’d only barely figured out the last class’s. My fingers flew across the keyboard, making notes on what to ask my TA for clarification on the next day. When the lecture wound down, I groaned. There were three full pages — in typing, not handwriting — and enough reading to take my brain at least two hours to process.
After grabbing a quick lunch from a food cart and sitting through a statistics recitation, which, thankfully, did not break my head, I trudged to the library. I’d been planning on going home first to change so I could look halfway decent before meeting Hawk at eight — even though I didn’t know why I cared — but I had too much work to do and not an ounce of energy left in my body. The huge Temple sweatshirt, old yoga pants, and sneakers would have to be okay.
Not that Hawk would care what I looked like, anyway.
Not that I cared if he cared.
I gave my head a quick shake as I unloaded my bag onto my favorite table, right in view of the main entrance, and buckled down. It took two more cups of coffee from the cafe in the lobby and until the sun had well set outside, but I finally made it through the answers to six questions with all the right answers.
I checked my watch and saw that it was eight thirty at the same time that a growl ripped through my stomach.
Seriously? This asshole was going to be half an hour late to our first meeting?
I stood up in a huff to throw my books and laptop into my bag. Frickin’ fine. If he didn’t care, neither did I. I’d just get to class a little early tomorrow — even though I cringed at the thought of getting to there even earlier — and talk to Professor Simon about either changing partners or just doing this stupid thing myself. I’d be perfectly fine doing all the work, having the excuse to daydream about my future practice, and being 100 percent responsible for my own grade in an easy-as-pie general education class.
I threw on my puffy winter coat, slung my bag over my shoulder, and headed out. Right when I pushed through the heavy door that led outside, I smacked headfirst into someone else.
“Ow!” I cried. I really had to stop doing that.
I looked up and, once, again, my eyes met a pair of ice blue ones.
“Joey,” Hawk’s gruff voice said through clouds in the frigid air. “I know I’m late. I….”
I held up a hand, and he stopped mid-sentence.
“Whatever,” I said. “Your life is busy. I get it, okay? I’ll talk to Professor Simon tomorrow and get a new partner.”
I shouldered past him, trying to ignore the amazing cologne-of-boy smell that followed me. Why did a guy so infuriating have to smell so good? Not only that, but why did he always smell either really bad or really amazing?
“Hey, hey, hey! Josephine!” he called.
Something about the way he said my full name sent shivers down my spine and stopped me in my tracks.
I stood for a few seconds and let him catch up with me. Snow flurries whirled through the air, and the bitter cold surrounded me. But when Hawk reached me, I felt suddenly warmer. The soft glow of the street lamps cast his face in warm light, and for the first time, I noticed a feature other than that cool blue sparkle of his eyes. Several, actually. There was a hard line to his jaw that, when combined with his high cheekbones, was absolutely statuesque. A day’s worth of scruff stretched out along his face and perfectly matched the wild, dark brown mop on top of his head. His lips were full and warm, the breath coming from them seeming to heat the air an unusual amount, filling the space between us with fleeting white clouds of steam.
“Look, I had to work late, okay? I forgot my watch and I wanted to clean up, and by the time I left the house again… I ran here, basically.” Then he was quiet, staring at me expectantly.
My stomach responded before my mouth could, ripping a growl through the air.
“Well, I guess I don’t have to tell you I’m starving,” I said. “And frickin’ exhausted. My best friend had to drag me out of bed for class, my Orgo homework is kicking my ass, and I haven’t had anything to eat all day.”
“I don’t know what Orgo is, but I can definitely help you with the ‘starving’ thing.” His lips looked like they wanted to curve into a smile, but they sort of trembled and fell again.
Was this some weird kind of pickup line? I narrowed my eyes at him and cocked my head to the side.
“I work at a restaurant, remember? Come on — I’ll get you something to eat, and we’ll have our project meeting or whatever then.”
I took a deep breath. I barely knew this guy, and I was so tired I could collapse in a heap right there in the middle of the sidewalk, but there was no denying how hungry I was. And, I rationalized, I did sort of know this guy. I mean, he was enrolled at the University. How bad could he be?
Stupid, Joey. That’s stupid.
I pulled out my phone and pulled up my text messages, typing in Cat’s name. “Where is it?”
“Right near 39th and Sansom.” He laughed. “Text your friend or whatever, but I promise you it’s cool.”
I clicked send on the text.
He leaned his head to the right and said, “This way.”
We headed toward a bright blue motorbike with slim tires, its once-shiny front splattered with white salt scars from the winter city roads.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re driving us? On this thing?”
“Unless you want to walk fifteen blocks in this weather,” he said, the left side of his lip quirking up.
I hastily texted Cat the description of the bike — “blue motorbike, God help me” was about the best I could do.
Hawk handed me a helmet, one of those full-head deals with a face shield.
“Where’s yours?” I asked, examining it for a second before realizing I really had no choice but to put it on.
“That’s mine. But I’m cool.”
“No, no. It’s okay. Seriously, I can just walk home. This isn’t safe. You should have a helmet.”
He rolled his eyes and huffed. “Girls don’t ride on my bike without a helmet. Besides, you should never worry about anyone but yourself. You’re covered, and I know what I’m doing. Now, come on.” Hawk blew on his fingers for a few seconds before pulling some leather gloves out of his pocket. As he pulled them on, I couldn’t help but notice his hands — they looked a little weathered, a little chapped, but strong. Rough in the way a guy’s hands should be. He straddled the bike, and my eyes darted to the way his jeans stretched against his thighs and the way his long, strong fingers wrapped around the handlebars.
“Well, come on. We’re not getting warmer out here.” He twisted the key in the ignition, then stared at the street and my jaw flexed.
“Am I just supposed to…get on?”
He raised his eyebrows and gave a short nod then looked forward again. I’d never once in my life considered riding on motorcycle or any gas-powered vehicle without walls. Not even a Jeep. And now I was just supposed jump on the back of a bike with this asshole?
Still, he was an asshole who cared whether I was hungry. Maybe that should count for something. I trudged over to the bike and took a deep breath.
I was so short that I could barely swing my leg over the bike on the first try. Hawk wasn’t a b
ig guy, but there was barely any room on the seat so my crotch ended up pressed right against his butt. Through the thin cotton of my yoga pants, I felt every seam of his jeans on my inner thighs.
“Hold on,” he said with another small smile thrown over his shoulder.
“Uh….” I didn’t know what I was supposed to hang on to, considering he was just wearing a sweater and a t-shirt with jeans. My stomach flipped when I thought about looping my fingers into his belt loops or wrapping them around his waist. Definitely too intimate. So I just put my hands on his sides, hoping the need to “hold on” wasn’t as serious as he made it sound.
When the bike jerked forward, though, I knew it was. My fingers automatically curled into the rib-knit of his sweater and felt the hard muscle underneath.
Whoa.
My cheeks burned hot again as we cruised through the dark University City streets, the orange streetlights and neon bar signs flashing by us like freaky, overgrown fireflies. It was a Wednesday night, and we were in the Penn neighborhood now, so almost no one was out. It only took a few minutes to reach Sansom.
Hawk eased the bike, whose sound died down from “chainsaw” to “buzz saw” when it idled.
I cleared my throat. “Thanks, by the way.”
“Can’t prep for class when you’re starving.”
I would have shot him a smile, but I was too busy noticing what kind of a “little place” Hawk was talking about — one of those small corner bars with glass blocks instead of windows.
“This is the restaurant?” I tried to keep the dismay out of my voice.
“Well, it’s a bar,” he said, yanking the key out of the transmission and rubbing the back of his neck. “But there’s good food.”
I stared at him for a second.
“Look,” he said. “You’re hungry, right? We’re already here. I’m not sure why you think I’m a creep or a serial killer or whatever, but I swear to God, I’m not. Okay? And we have to talk about this project, so you might as well eat something.”
Heat Up the Fall: New Adult Boxed Set (6 Book Bundle) Page 114