Unexpected Gift

by Lively, R. S.

  “You look good tonight, Molly.”

  I snort and turn my head to lock eyes with him, which is a mistake, because they are beautiful. I'm lost in a sea of hazel. His eyes are more brown than green, but the green adds a stunning contrast. I hate that I just noticed that. “You think every girl looks good, Caden.”

  He smiles, showing off his dimples. Of course, he has dimples.

  “I do, don’t I?” He spins me again and pulls me into his arms. I hate that it feels good to be so close to him.

  “Too bad the poor girls aren’t smarter, or else they’d know better," I mumble, talking about Jessica. I’ve seen the looks they've been giving to each other all night long.

  He acts as if my comment hurts him. “You've wounded me,” he claims.

  “Like anything could ever bring down your ego.”

  “I can’t help that I’m confident.” He puffs out his chest, as if that is supposed to impress me.

  I hate to admit this, but it did.

  “You're cocky. There’s a difference.” The wind stemming from our dancing blows his cologne into my face, and I cough as it invades my lungs. I have to hold back a whimper. My number one weakness is men who smell good.

  “Jennifer doesn’t seem to think so,” he teases me, trying to get a reaction out of me.

  “You mean Jessica? It's unreal that you don’t even know her name.”

  “I don’t need to know hers. She only needs to know mine.”

  The song ends, and I don’t hesitate to wiggle away from his strong, hot embrace. “If you don’t mind, I need to go wash my hands. I suddenly feel infected.” I turn on my heels and walk away, hating myself for falling for his charm, even though he didn’t even use it on me. His charm is so effortless that it naturally spews out of him. From his perfect hair to his perfect good looks and even his perfect smile, I'm hooked.

  “Aw, don’t be like that, Molls. I know a cure.”

  I glance over my shoulder just in time to see him shoot me a wink. I can’t stand him. And I can’t stand the fact that I’m just like every other girl that wants him.

  I refuse to give in.

  Chapter Two

  Molly

  “You look hot!” Kenna whistles as she slaps my ass.

  I yelp from the sting. “Ow! Hey, what was that for?” I rub the cheek she hit to soothe the warmth of the sting. She got me good with that one. All palm. Nice.

  McKenna—or Kenna, as I call her—turns toward me and starts walking backward. She is wearing a red leather jacket and black low-cut shirt that shows off her massive chest tattoo. She has two nose piercings and dark purple hair. Kenna is a badass. We are complete opposites of one another.

  I tend to be on the safer, more conservative side. Kenna’s soul burns with a wildness I have never seen in anyone else before. She lives life and doesn’t care what anyone has to say about it. I wish I was more like her. So carefree. And honestly? Gorgeous. She's so gorgeous. I don’t know any other woman who can pull off Kenna's style better than Kenna does. She has an energy about her that infects other people. Everyone wants to follow her lead.

  “That slap on the ass is in celebration of the fact that you are wearing the skirt I told you to wear. You have great legs. But you never show them.”

  Speaking of the short, blue, skin-tight piece of cloth that barely covers my ass, I pull it down because I swear the bottom of my cheeks are showing. “I show them, but I just don’t show this much of them. There’s a difference.” If a breeze blows, everything underneath this nearly nonexistent skirt will come out to play and say hello to everyone.

  “You'd be doing the world so much good if you showed them off more.” She walks through the bar confidently, bypassing the bouncer with a flirtatious smile. He unhooks the red rope, letting her float through with ease and confidence.

  I follow close behind, only to have the rope cut me off, stopping me in my tracks. “I’m with her,” I say as I point to Kenna.

  “I need to see some identification,” the big, muscular man responds in a deep voice that makes my spine straighten immediately.

  “You didn’t ask for hers. Why do you need mine?”

  He crosses his massive arms and lifts a bushy brow at me, not saying a word as he stares at me without even blinking.

  “Unbelievable.” I shake my head and Kenna hides her smile behind her hand as she waits on me. With jerky, pissed-off movements, I dig through my purse and grab my wallet. I unfold it and shove it in his face to prove that I am older than twenty-one. “Happy?” I huff, tapping my heal on the sidewalk with impatience.

  He points his thumb over his shoulder. “You can go.”

  I hit my shoulder against his side, never breaking eye contact with the giant oaf. His big brow rises again with a hint of humor before turning around to face the front of the crowd once more.

  “You know, that isn’t the best way to get in good with Rocky,” Kenna says, looping her arm around mine.

  “Rocky? Of course that’s his name.”

  “He is a good guy. You just have to get past all the...”—She waves her hands over her body—“That. You know? I know it’s a lot to get past, but once you do, he is a big teddy bear.”

  “A teddy bear?” The stool scratches against the cement floor as I sit down. “I doubt that,” I mumble.

  “What can I get you beautiful ladies?” the man behind the bar asks, wiping the counter down with a dirty bar rag.

  “Two shots of scotch,” Kenna holds up two fingers.

  I stop him by holding my hand up in hopes that he won't make that god-awful drink for me, too. “I’ll take a margarita. She can have the gasoline with ice.”

  He laughs as he puts the other scotch glass back and replaces it with a margarita glass. “You got it.” He gives me a wink before taking that awful-looking scotch and pouring it for Kenna.

  She slaps my shoulder and turns us around toward the dance floor. “Now, we need to find you someone who can yank that stick out of your ass.”

  “Excuse me? There is no stick. That’s rude, Kenna.”

  “Dude, you have a stick so far up in there; I don’t know if I can even get it out.”

  Right as I open my mouth to defend myself, my phone rings. “I’ll get back to you in a moment, you rebel without a cause,” I say to her before unsnapping the clasp of my purse and reaching in to find my phone. I see it at the bottom of my purse, and I flip it over in my palm as I pull it out. I turn the ringer off when I see a number I don’t recognize.

  “What’s that about?” Kenna asks.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t recognize the number.” Right as I go to put it back in my purse, my phone rings again. “Weird. They are calling again.”

  “Answer it. You never know. It could be important.” She sips her drink, scanning the crowd for a guy to strike her fancy.

  “True.” I slide the green button to the side and move my hair away from my ear. “Hello?” I greet the caller as the bartender sets my drink down in front of me.

  “Is this Molly Lowell?” a soft, feminine voice asks.

  I look at Kenna with confusion and take a sip of my drink. “It is. May I ask who is calling?”

  The stranger on the other end of the line sighs, and my gut turns. Something doesn’t feel right.

  “This is Doctor Kendra Torres. I’m calling on behalf of your brother, Brandon Lowell.”

  I never experienced the exact moment when everything changes. When everything stops. My breathing. The noise. The chaos. My vision starts to blur, and my voice disappears. It is lost in the sea of the worst-case scenarios swimming around in my head.

  “Molly? What is it? What’s wrong?” Kenna puts her hand on my arm, trying to snap me out of the daze.

  “Hello? Ms. Lowell? Are you still there?”

  I clear my throat and wipe my eyes. Maybe it isn’t as bad as I think it is. I tend to overthink. “What about Brandon? Is he okay? What happened?”

  “Your brother and his wife have been in a serious
car accident.”

  “No. No! You’re wrong. He is fine. I just talked to him a few hours ago. Are you sure? What happened? Don’t do this. Don’t tell me this. Oh my god.” I clutch my stomach as wave after wave of pain causes intense cramps to form in my abdomen. This can’t be happening.

  “I think it’s best if you come to the hospital. I’m sorry, Ms. Lowell. The injuries are very significant. You will need to prepare yourself.”

  The phone slips from my hand and falls to the floor, echoing louder than any pulse of music blaring through the speaker at the club. I stand up, but my legs start to wobble left and right. As I begin to fall, I catch myself on the bar and knock over my drink. The doctor's words echo in my head. You will need to prepare yourself.

  Prepare myself for what? I don’t understand. Death? Is that what she meant?

  “I can’t breathe. Kenna, I can’t breathe.” I gasp for air as I stare at my best friend, tears streaming down my face.

  She wraps her arms around me to keep me from falling all the way to the floor. “It’s okay. We’re going outside. Everything is going to be fine.”

  “Hey, is she okay?” the bartender asks, wiping the mess of margarita off the counter.

  Kenna ignores him as we stumble through the crowd. People part, creating a pathway so Kenna can help me get outside. The air hits my face, and I suck in a deep breath, opening my lungs to the point of pain. I let out a wail so loud, my throat hurts. My eyes blur from the tears cascading nonstop down my cheeks. The bouncer who had given me such a hard time earlier pushes the line from the door to make sure I have enough breathing room.

  Kenna leads me away from the onlookers and their whispers. “Talk to me, Molls. What is going on?” She helps me sit on the bench in front of a coffee shop. Why a coffee shop is next door to a club is something I’ll never understand.

  You will need to prepare yourself.

  The words rip a fresh sob out of my chest. I hide my face in my hands as I let another wave of emotion silence me. We sit for a few minutes as I cry, and Kenna rubs soothing circles on my back. “I need to go. I need to get to Brandon.” I wipe my face on my shoulder.

  “Why? Is Brandon okay? What happened? I need you to talk to me.” She grabs my shoulder to stop me, and that’s when I realize I already started walking to the car. Uh, I didn’t realize I had gotten up.

  “Amelia and Brandon have been in a car accident,” I say as paralysis numbs my body.

  Kenna gasps and her hardcore persona disappears. Her hands cup her mouth in shock. “Are they okay? What happened?”

  I shake my head, trying to clear the fog. “I don’t know.” I lift my eyes up from the ground to look at her. “They said I needed to prepare myself.”

  “Oh my god, Molly. Holy shit. Okay, we are going. Come on.” Kenna takes a tight hold of my hand and drags me toward the direction of the parked car. “It’s a few hours to the hospital, right? They don’t live nearby.”

  “Right.”

  “It’s going to be fine. You know that, right? It’s going to be okay. Brandon and Amelia are so strong.”

  “I didn’t ask about Posie. Was Posie with them?”

  “I don’t know, Molls. Everything is going to be okay, alright? We can’t think the worst. I bet they are fine.”

  “They told me to prepare myself,” I mumble. I remember the conversation I had with Brandon this morning. He said he was surprising Amelia with a trip to Europe tonight. She always wanted to see Paris. The city of love. He asked me if I’d watch Posie for the two weeks they would be gone, and since I worked from home, I had said it wouldn’t be a problem. I was excited. I love my niece. I bought her a bunch of stuff already. We were going to have a princess movie marathon, while dressed as princesses, of course.

  I won’t be able to do that now. Not if they are dead. “Oh god, Kenna.” Right as I open the car door, I bend over and puke in the rose bushes.

  I know everything isn’t going to be okay, no matter what Kenna says. I feel it in my bones. I heard it when the doctor said I needed to prepare myself. I’m not stupid. They don’t say that unless they have already done everything they could to save someone.

  “Let it all out,” Kenna croons, holding my hair out of my face as I let the stress get the best of me.

  “We need to go. I need to call my parents. I don’t know if they know yet. I need to call Caden, too. He’ll want to know. Oh, and Amelia’s parents. Unless the hospital already called them, but if they knew, then they probably would have called me. Right? Yeah, they probably would have. I wonder if she is okay," I ramble. The more I speak, the less like a reality the situation feels.

  “Get in the car. We need to go. Now, Molls. Get in the car.” Kenna shoves me down into the passenger seat and slams the door shut.

  She runs around the car and hops into the driver’s seat. I reach for the seatbelt, but my hands are shaking so badly, and I couldn't get the seatbelt to click. “Come on,” I say through clenched teeth.

  Kenna places her hand on top of mine and takes the seatbelt. “I got it.”

  I sigh, letting her take control.

  “There we go.” It clicks into place, and Kenna puts the car in reverse as she whips the car around, making the tires squeal against the pavement. She hits the hazard lights and the car jolts forward, speeding down the street and cutting a right off the exit to get on the highway.

  Everything blurs behind the tears streaming down my face, or maybe it's from the dizziness. Probably both. I lean forward against the window as rain drizzles, tapping against the windshield. “They’re dead,” I whisper, clutching my phone in my hand. I hate the doctor who called me. I hate her. She ruined everything.

  “You don’t know that, Molly. I’m going to tell you this. People need to know. The people you love need to know. If you were the only person on his emergency contact list, then no one knows. Considering not a soul has called you, the ball is in your court. Now, keep yourself together for five minutes. After that, you can fall apart, but first, you need to call them. Okay?”

  She is right. I need to pull my shit together. Maybe they are fine. I always think the worse. I wipe my tears away for the hundredth time, and with shaky hands, I call my parents. I feel like I’m going to throw up again.

  The phone rings until going to voicemail. Do I leave a message as horrible as this one? I don’t have a choice.

  “Hey, Mom. It’s me, Molly.” My voice chokes with emotion, making it hard to speak. “I’m on my way to Glendive General Hospital. Something has happened to Brandon. I didn’t want to leave a message, but I knew you’d want to know. Kenna and I are about two hours out. I’ll see you there. I love you. Tell Dad the same.” I hang up and let out a breath. There is a pounding in my head that won’t stop.

  “Who is next?”

  “Amelia’s parents? I’m sure they know by now.” Right as I say the words, my phone buzzes. It is a text from her parents saying they are on their way to the hospital. Perfect timing. “It’s them. They know. Thank god. The fewer people I have to call, the better.”

  “You need to call Caden. Brandon would want him there.”

  Right. Caden. Just the sound of his name makes my heart skip a beat, even during a turbulent time, he affects me, and it makes me dislike him a little more. “Okay, you’re right.” I take a deep breath and hope he doesn’t answer. I dial his number and place the phone against my ear, waiting. His goes to voicemail, too. “Caden, it’s Molly. Brandon and Amelia were in a car accident. Things are really bad, Caden. I’m on my way to Glendive General. I’ll see you there. They told me to prepare myself, so I suggest you do the same.” I end the call on a sob, unable to keep myself together any longer. Of course, he doesn’t answer. Caden is probably sleeping with a woman, or women, knowing him. He is too busy thrusting into some strange hole to take a moment to look at his phone.

  I don’t know why that angers me so much. He needs to be there for my brother, not some skank. I toss my phone on the dash and close my eyes, but
I can’t sleep. No, that’s impossible given the circumstances. I let out a long sigh and pray my brother and his wife will be alive by the time I get there.

  The next two hours are going to be the longest moments of my life.

  Chapter Three

  Caden

  “Time of Death. Twenty-one, fifteen.” I yank my scrub cap off and toss it against the wall. “Damn it!” I shuck the gown off, and one of the scrub nurses removes the headgear that helps me see clearly in the brain.

  “You did the best you could, Dr. Jackson,” Eileen, my favorite nurse says, trying to soothe me. She knows her way around the operating room because she has been here for so long. She is older than most nurses, and due to her experience, dealing with me is a walk in the park for her.

  “Thanks, Eileen. I’m going to go tell the family. Emerson?” My intern stares at me with wide eyes and his gloved hands held upright, showing me that he hasn’t touched anything. “Close up for me, would you?”

  “Yes, Dr. Jackson," Emerson says with a smile. "I’d love to.”

  “Don’t make me look bad, Emerson. I don’t want to have to find another intern for my service.”

  “Absolutely, Dr. Jackson. Thank you for the opportunity.”

  Eileen shoots me a wink, and I roll my eyes. She tells me that all the interns want in on my service because Emerson gets to have more hands-on surgery than most. She also says the women want in because of my good looks, but I don’t need that at work. Plus, Emerson is the best in his group. And only the best get to be neurosurgeons.

  I sigh, feeling the tension in my shoulders. I stare out of the glass in the scrub room, watching Emerson close the wound. Jason Castle, the patient on the table, shouldn’t have died. As surgeons, we know anything can happen when a patient of ours lays there, cut open and vulnerable. This time, he had a heart attack on the damn table, right as I went to clip the aneurysm. I paged cardio, but by the time they got down here, Emerson had been doing CPR for fifteen minutes. We pushed epi and shocked him. Still, nothing but a flatline answered.