Clutch Player

by Kylie Gilmore

  The day was grueling as she hustled through her work and made several trips up to PICU to check in on Chris. Tony, Chris’s dad, begged her to stay every time. She did all that she could, visiting as much as she could, calling in a priest to console Tony, bringing food to him. It was a terrible, terrible thing for a parent to watch their child on their deathbed.

  She left work, frazzled and on edge. And found Michael on her doorstep.

  She screamed bloody murder.

  “Emily! What’s wrong?”

  She nearly tripped over herself as she whirled and ran for the stairs, her heart in her throat. She raced down the stairs and back to her Volvo.

  “Emily, wait!”

  Her hands were shaking, but she managed to open the car door. She heard footsteps as Michael took the stairs, hurrying to catch up with her. Her purse strap snagged on the door as she tried to get in, and she wrestled with it frantically.

  “I’ve been wanting to see you,” Michael said. She glanced up to see he was at the bottom of the stairs. Oh, God. Why hadn’t she gone through with the restraining order? She got the strap free, slammed the door, and locked herself in. She turned the car on and yelped at a sharp knock on her window.

  Michael stood there, looking in at her with an oddly determined expression on his face.

  “Back off!” she shouted through the glass before putting the car in reverse and making a quick acceleration straight back. Michael stepped away from the car. She sped out of the lot and drove like Satan himself was on her tail all the way to the police station.

  She burst inside and blurted out everything to the officer on duty. He left to check on her apartment, and she waited at the station with the secretary, Linda, a kindly woman in her sixties with curly red hair. Fifteen minutes later, the officer reported back that no one was at her apartment.

  “He was there,” she told Linda. “I’m not crazy.”

  Linda gave her a gentle smile. “Do you have someone I could call to be with you, sweetie?”

  She scrunched her eyes shut tight at the tears that threatened. She knew she shouldn’t be alone right now. She nodded.

  Jared was there in ten minutes flat. No questions asked.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jared woke early the next morning with a naked Emily in his bed. They still hadn’t talked things out, but she’d called him in her moment of need, and that had to mean something. He had to at least try to get the words out. She meant more to him than a hookup. A lot more. He spooned her from behind and started kissing her neck. A few minutes later, she hooked her leg over his and reached back to run her fingers through his hair.

  “You’ve turned me into a sex addict,” she said, her voice still rough from sleep. “I just woke up, and I want you so bad.”

  It occurred to him he was a little too good at what he did. He’d tried to get the feelings thing across, but it kept getting effed up. Literally. Maybe he should go in the other direction. Hands off. She ground her shapely bottom back against his erection, and he groaned and held her snug against him.

  Okay, so hands off was not an option. Should he blurt out the L word? Because the more he was with her, the more it felt true. But what if she didn’t L back? He’d be F’d for sure.

  “I told you I want you every night,” he said in a low voice near her ear. “And here you are.”

  She dropped her arm from him. “This was a fluke. I had a horrible day yesterday.”

  He ran a hand up and down her leg, trying to slow things down enough to speak coherently. “I don’t just mean to sleep with you. I mean, you know, regular kind of sleeping too.”

  She took his hand and moved it to her breasts. “Do that thing you do.”

  He kept his hand still. “We should go out to dinner. Like dating.” Like a relationship. Though, he couldn’t quite get the word “relationship” out. At least he could think it now.

  She turned in his arms to face him. “I don’t want to go out to dinner. I like this better.” She grabbed his head, pulled him down, and kissed him. He kissed her back, his body urging him to take her. No, he had to get through to her.

  He pulled back. “Here’s what I want to say…” And then nothing came out. Dammit. He still didn’t have the right words. He was afraid to blurt too much and then have it just hanging out there, unreturned.

  She threw an arm and leg around him. “What?”

  “I have, like…” A lot of feelings. Maybe the L kind. “You know how I told you about Jen?”

  Her brown eyes flashed at him. “Would you stop bringing up your ex-girlfriend!”

  “I’m trying to explain feelings!”

  “What do you need her for?”

  “Because I lived with her and then she left and it was hard. But I want to take a chance again. With you.”

  Her eyes widened. “Are you trying to say you’re serious about me?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  “I thought…I guess I thought we were just having fun?”

  He rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling.

  “Jare, I’m never getting married again.”

  “Who said anything about marriage?” Though it was surprisingly hard to hear that.

  She sat up. “Sorry. I misspoke. I just meant I don’t want to get serious with any guy again.”

  “So it’s not just me.”

  “Exactly.”

  He looked at her, nearly breathless at her beauty as her glossy brown hair cascaded over her bare shoulders. Her beautiful full breasts that he was aching to touch. “Okay,” he said slowly. “So what does that mean for us?”

  She blew out a breath. “I don’t know. I figured eventually you’d get tired of me.”

  He frowned. “What if I don’t?”

  She was quiet.

  “Wait a minute.” He sat up. “You mean eventually you’ll get tired of me. That’s what you’re really trying to say.”

  She turned away. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth. I’m just trying to be practical.”

  “Yeah? Well, practical sucks.”

  Her expression softened as she turned back to him. “Don’t make this more complicated than it needs to be. Okay?” She kissed him and ran her hands over his shoulders and chest, working him up.

  “Em…I…” He sucked in a breath as her hand trailed lower. He took over in a fierce possession that told her what his words couldn’t. His mouth claimed hers as he rolled her under him. He lifted his head. “You put down the gauntlet, and I’m picking it up.”

  Her cheeks flushed pink. “There’s no gauntlet. I just need to keep things light. Okay?”

  He nipped her bottom lip. “I’m gonna wear you down.” She moaned as he started working his way down her body, kissing and tasting as he went.

  “Jare?” she asked in a breathy voice. “You heard what I said?”

  He reached her stomach. “Open those legs for me, darling.”

  She did. He was lost. So was she. There was nothing but this woman and what she made him feel, which was insanely good.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emily worked with quiet despair as it became apparent over the next two days that Chris was only getting worse. Even Jared couldn’t bring her out of her funk, though he tried, showing up at her apartment every night, bringing her takeout, watching TV with her, holding her close. She couldn’t turn him away even if it was a mistake to let him in close. She was too distraught, and his calm presence steadied her.

  Thursday night Chris passed away.

  She got the call from the on-duty nurse, who knew she wanted to hear. It wasn’t a shock. The child had suffered for years, but still the news devastated her. Jared was with her when she got the call.

  He wrapped his arms around her, offering comfort. “What can I do?”

  “I just need to be alone right now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She pulled away and dashed at her eyes, scrubbing away the few tears that had escaped. “Please.”

  “Em, you don’t have
to do this alone. I miss him too. He was a good kid.” His voice broke, and she couldn’t handle both of them losing it. “A real good kid.”

  “I need some space.” She headed to her bedroom and shut the door behind her.

  A few moments later, she heard the front door open and then quietly shut.

  She sobbed uncontrollably until she had no tears left, her eyes dry and gritty. And then she crawled under the covers, knowing she’d have to return to work tomorrow for the other patients’ sake. It always shook up the children when they heard a fellow patient was gone. At least she finally felt safe at home again. Ever since she’d gone to the police about Michael showing up at her place, the gifts had stopped. She hadn’t seen or heard from Michael either.

  She returned to work on Friday only to meet up with a distraught Tony, Chris’s father. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair disheveled, and his eyes were red from too much crying.

  “He’s gone,” he choked out before breaking down and sobbing.

  She gently guided him to the break room and settled with him on the sofa. The two nurses on break quickly left, giving them privacy.

  “I have nothing,” Tony said. “Chris was my whole world.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “He was such a good boy. I did my best with him. If only his mom hadn’t died.” The man dropped his head in his hands and sobbed some more. “Why?” he wailed. “Why couldn’t it have been me?”

  Emily didn’t know what to say. There was never any good reason for a child to have a disease. It was unfair, plain and simple. “I’m so sorry,” she kept saying as he got all of his anger and frustration out over the unfairness of it all.

  Eventually he calmed down enough to say, “Tell me a story about him. About your time with him.”

  “He loved baseball. He knew all the stats on all the Yankees.”

  “That was our team. I took him to the games before he got…too bad.”

  “He often spoke about the autographed Derek Jeter card you got him.”

  “Jeter’s a real class act,” he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

  They spent some time reminiscing about Chris, and Emily confessed she wished she’d been there the weekend he ended up in PICU.

  “I wish you’d been there too,” Tony said. “You were his good luck charm. He kept hanging on, kept fighting.”

  “I’m sure he hung on because he was strong. Not because of me.”

  His voice became hard. “It sure didn’t help that you weren’t there for him.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I still feel terrible about that.”

  His eyes filled again. “Too late now.” He broke down in tears, and she tried to comfort him as best she could. He clung to her arm. She was really late for her shift, knew she had to check on the other patients, but Tony’s grip on her arm was so tight.

  “I need to go back to work,” she said gently. “Would you like me to call a priest or a social worker?”

  “I just want you. You’re the one who knew him best. You’re the one who cared about him. None of these other people could give a shit that we lost the best soul on earth.” His voice turned angry, his fingers pressing painfully into her arm. “Why weren’t you there for him?”

  “You’re hurting me.”

  He dropped his hand and started pacing the small space, muttering to himself.

  “Tony, I’m so sorry. I know this is such…” She trailed off at the alarming look in his eyes as he stopped pacing and glared at her, the vein in his forehead bulging.

  “Why weren’t you at your post that day?” he thundered.

  Guilt swamped her. She wished she had been. “They did everything they could for him,” she said quietly.

  He marched over to her and got in her face. “What were you so busy doing that was more important than saving a life!” he hollered, spittle coming out of his mouth.

  She took a careful step back. “Let me call someone.”

  “Chris needed you!” he raged. “And you weren’t there!”

  “I—”

  Her supervisor, Jane, popped her head in the door. “Everything okay in here?”

  Tony headed toward the door, nearly knocking Jane over as he rushed out. Emily took in a shaky breath.

  “That man needs to talk to psych,” Jane said. “You know you’re supposed to call them when we lose a patient.”

  “I thought I could help him,” she said in a small voice. She shook her head. “He always seemed to feel better talking to me.”

  “That’s not your job,” Jane said. “You can’t be everything to everyone.”

  “The man just lost his son!” Emily snapped. “We’re just supposed to step back and let a stranger console him? I knew Chris better than anyone here. Tony knew that, and he needed me.”

  “Sometimes the grieving need more than us. Sometimes they need a professional to help them cope.”

  Emily shook her head and went back to work, knowing she could never be hands-off like that with her young patients and their families.

  When she finally finished her shift, every nerve felt scraped raw. She headed to the parking lot and stopped short. Jared was standing next to her car. She couldn’t deal with more emotional upheaval.

  “Em,” he said, holding his arms out to her, “c’mere.”

  Her eyes welled again, and she bit her lip hard. She had to get home before she fell apart.

  “You want to come to my place?” he asked. “I can order some takeout. Or I can come to yours?”

  “I can’t,” she said on a sob.

  He pulled her in for a tight hug, and she sobbed into his fleece jacket. He stroked her hair. After a few moments, he spoke gently. “If you don’t want me to come over, do you have someone else you can call? A friend? Some family?”

  She backed away. “I told you I just need to be alone.”

  “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  She skirted past him and opened the car door. “You don’t understand.” She got in and drove away.

  The grief was overwhelming, the guilt over what she could’ve done, what she should’ve done just about killed her. Poor Tony. He was the one who really suffered. She hadn’t been there when her patient needed her most, and now he was gone.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jared went to the hospital the very next morning for his usual Saturday Captain Huddle visit. The kids needed him now more than ever. He met up with Emily, who had dark circles under her brown eyes, her fair skin pale and sallow. He was beyond worried about her. She’d shut him out, shut everyone out, it seemed, in her grief.

  “Are you feeling okay?” he asked, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead, automatically checking her vitals. No fever.

  She pushed his hand away. “I haven’t been sleeping very well.” She handed him the goody bag. “Thank you for coming. It’s important to the kids.”

  “Of course.” He pushed up his eye mask. “How are—”

  “Emily!” a man’s voice boomed.

  They turned at the same time to a thirty-something bulky man with a wild look in his eyes. His dark brown hair was messy, his clothes wrinkled like he’d slept in them.

  “Who’s that?” Jared asked. His senses went on full alert. There was something unstable about the man that made him wary.

  “It’s Chris’s dad,” Emily said quietly. “I’ll handle this. He just needs to talk. The funeral is today at noon.”

  He watched as Emily headed toward the man. She’d only taken two steps when the man pulled a gun.

  Jared swung into motion. “Drop the gun!” he hollered as he charged ahead, knocking Emily sideways to the ground and barreling straight toward the man.

  The gun pointed at him now, and he dove for the man’s waist, slamming him to the ground. His shoulder burned as he wrestled the man until he had him pinned and managed to pry the gun out of the man’s clenched fist. He tossed the gun with a low push across the linoleum floor and pinned both the man’s wrists over hi
s head as he held him down with one knee in his chest. “Call security!”

  Only moments later, security arrived and cuffed the man, taking him away.

  “Jared,” Emily said in a voice that sounded very far away, “you’re bleeding. You were shot. We need to get you to emergency.”

  Someone showed up with a wheelchair.

  He stared at the wheelchair. “I’m fine.” He looked himself over and saw a puddle of blood on the floor. The burning in his shoulder was now a dull ache. Emily was pressing a pile of gauze against his shoulder. In his adrenaline rush, he hadn’t even felt the shot, hadn’t heard it, all he could focus on was taking the dangerous man down.

  He looked down at her. “I’m fine. Really. Damn, I ruined the costume.”

  Her voice came out shaky. “You saved me. I can’t believe you risked your life for me.”

  “I had to,” he said before he got light-headed and couldn’t speak. Someone pushed him to the wheelchair. He must’ve lost more blood than he realized. He drifted into unconsciousness. He came to on a cot in the emergency room, all bandaged up with his arm in a sling. Emily sat by his side, holding the hat and mask from his costume.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Jared!” Her eyes were shiny with tears.

  “Don’t cry, I’ll be fine.” He grimaced because his shoulder hurt like hell. “How bad is it?”

  “The bullet didn’t go all the way through. They want to take you to X-ray to see where it’s lodged.”

  “Okay.”

  “Oh, Jared!” She started sobbing. He wished he could hug her, but he was afraid to move because of the awful pain in his shoulder.

  “It’s bad luck to cry in front of a patient,” he said instead.

  She immediately wiped her eyes and bit her lip, nodding. He liked that she pulled herself together for his sake. She probably did that for all her patients, always looking out for their best interests. It only made him love her more. Whoa. He really did. He had to let her know. She needed someone to be there for her at the end of the day after being there for everyone else.

  “Em, I…uh…I…” Dammit. Why couldn’t he get the words out?