Chased Mate: Cybermates

by Ayers, Candace

  Arden

  “Arden?”

  I turned to see a prior patient of mine striding toward me wearing a huge grin.

  “Hi! Um, Parker, right? How is the little one?”

  “Stella’s great. Growing like a weed already. She’s quite a handful—not that I’m complaining.” Parker wore the proud smile of a new mom.

  “She’s not…ill?”

  Parker shook her head. “No, no, not at all. I came to see you. I wanted to thank you for your help when I was a patient here. And…I brought you this.” She produced a small gift bag from behind her back. “As a thank you.”

  My hand flew to my chest and I blinked back tears. After dealing with my family at dinner earlier in the week, a show of appreciation like that hit me right in the feels. “That is so nice! Unnecessary, but so nice.”

  “Oh, it’s necessary. Open it.” She handed me the gift bag and clasped her hands together while she waited.

  I reached in and pulled out a small tin. Inside were what looked like gift certificates.

  “They’re for local businesses. There’s a free coffee from Latte Love, free cut and blow out at Jammie’s Salon, free night’s stay at Rise and Shine B&B. You’re always taking care of others, I thought it would be nice for you to get some pampering.”

  “Oh, wow! That’s so thoughtful!” I reached out and pulled her in for a hug. “I was just doing my job. I really don’t expect a gift for it, but I really, really...” I was so choked up I couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Laughing, she captured my hand and squeezed. “Maxim told me about how he got a little woozy in the delivery room. He says you caught him before he hit the ground.”

  I giggled at the memory. Her husband was huge and, yep, he went down. It wasn’t unusual. Expectant fathers did that from time to time. I hadn’t so much caught him as broken his fall when he landed on me.

  “Yeah, he was, uh, moved by the birth, to say the least.”

  “Well, I’m just glad he didn’t flatten you like a pancake. I’ve had that man on top of me—” When she noticed my eyes grow wide, she bit off the rest of her sentence. She tapped the gift certificates. “Anyhoo, they’re from both of us.”

  I held the gift to my chest, truly touched. “Thank you so much. I could use a little TLC, so this couldn’t be more perfect.”

  Still clutching the certificates to my chest, I watched as the woman turned on her heel and practically bounced away. She was a force of nature, that was for sure. I liked her.

  I went around the desk and dropped the gift bag into the file cabinet where we stored our personal things. Then, my eyes scanned the to-do list I kept there. “I’m off to take my lunch break.”

  “Off to see that perfect man—the one who always listens and never talks back?”

  My only response was a noncommittal shrug before I headed into the break room for a quick bite. I no sooner started a fresh pot of coffee than my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, and groaned when I saw it was my mom calling. I silenced the call, but when it rang again, barely a minute later, my stomach knotted. Was something wrong? Maybe it was a family emergency. “Mom?”

  “Arden, why don’t you ever answer your phone?”

  “I’m on shift, Mom. Is everything okay?”

  “That job again.” Mom conveyed her annoyance with a dramatic exhale. “What if it wasn’t okay and I couldn’t get ahold of you because of that job?”

  She said “job” like it was a dirty word. Unwilling to go down the same old road with her, I pressed on. “What did you need, Mom?”

  Her voice slipped into something as close to joy as Margarite Richardson got. “Your sister Hailie’s pregnant!”

  My irritation was instantly replaced with excitement. Despite my issues with my sisters, I loved babies—such perfect little miracles. “That’s fantastic!”

  “Yes. She’s two months along. It’s great news. Another baby in this family is truly a blessing.” Mom paused a moment and then went in for the kill shot. “If only my youngest daughter would get serious about her future and settle down.”

  And, there it was. A bullseye. “I am serious, Mom. I love my job. I can’t wait to plan a baby shower. Maybe we could have a themed shower.”

  “Now don’t try to change the subject. I spoke to Martin Fink. He said you refused a second date with him. I told him that surely, he must be mistaken, but he seemed to insist otherwise. Please tell me you didn’t refuse a second date with the man.”

  “He wasn’t mistaken. It’s true, Mom. There was no chemistry.”

  “Chemistry? Honestly, Arden, you’re thirty years old! Chemistry is for teenagers. At this stage, you’re lucky that a man like Martin Fink is even interested. You work in a maternity ward for goodness sakes, you know all about the ticking of a woman’s biological clock.”

  One of the doctors on staff came into the break room and stood at the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. I turned my back to him and huddled into my phone.

  “I have to go.”

  “Martin has a wonderful job at Hamish, Abelman and Brock, the firm that handles your father’s business accounts. He has a head for finance and he’d make the perfect husband. Your father and I bent over backwards to set you up with that young man. Your sisters were both married by twenty-two and had babies on the way by twenty-five. And then there’s you.”

  “I have to go, Mom.”

  “No, Arden, we are discussing this. I’m so tired of you avoiding reality as though life was a fairytale. It’s not. I’ve convinced Marvin to give you another chance, and thankfully, he agreed.”

  “Mother!”

  The doctor looked up, and I smiled sheepishly.

  “Don’t mother me, Arden Danielle. He’ll be in contact, and when he does contact you, I expect you to consider your future. I don’t know where you come up with these notions about chemistry, but this isn’t one of those romance novels or those old movies you watch. In real life, a woman needs security. The world can be harsh and cruel. You need a stable husband with a good job and a decent head on his shoulders. Martin fits the bill. And babies. You need those too. Divorce is all too prevalent in our culture today. Children will ensure your future.”

  I reeled in my anger and blew out a sharp breath. “I’m at work, Mother. I can’t talk about this right now. I have to go.”

  “Fine, Arden. That’s fine. Stop living in a fantasy world.” The abrupt hang-up of her landline was harsh in my ear.

  I leaned back against the counter and rubbed my eyes. I felt like I’d just been sucked into the vortex of a hurricane, tossed around, and spit back out, battered and bruised. Every interaction with my family seemed to leave me feeling that way.

  Why was it that everywhere else in the world, I was a smart, capable, confident woman, but with my family, I was the kid who kept getting sent to the principal’s office?

  “You okay?”

  I glanced over at Dr. Grabowski and forced a smile. “Sure.”

  He nodded and turned back to his coffee.

  My appetite was completely gone. Thanks, Mom. Turning my phone off, I headed to the elevators. As I passed the nurses station, Ruby looked up, read my pained expression, and frowned. I just shook my head and kept my eyes down as I made my way to the long-term care wing at the back of the medical complex.

  As I turned down the hallway that led to Flynn’s room, I passed the nurses’ station, which was as quiet as always. I peeked in and saw Camille, the older nurse who worked the day shift, at her desk. When I waved, she nodded and continued charting.

  I paused just outside the door to Flynn’s room thinking, as I often did, that just once, it would be nice to walk in and see the room full of friends, family, flowers and those mylar balloons that said, “Get Well Soon.”

  I swung the door open. Everything was the same as the day before. The room was empty except for the patient lying immobile in the bed and soft hum and beep of the machines monitoring his vitals.

  I never go
t used to the sight of Flynn Bennett. My stomach always fluttered, my pulse always raced, and my breath always caught in my throat the moment I saw him.

  He’d lost a lot of girth and muscle tone during his stay, but he was still a large man—broad shouldered, with thick biceps and a chest that could stop a tank.

  As nurses, we tried not to let our jobs get to us, we had to grow a thick skin, but we were only human. It was impossible not to be somewhat affected by the injustice wrought on good people by illness and injury. There was no discrimination, no bigotry, no favoritism. Chronic or terminal illnesses and, as in Flynn’s case, terrible accidents, could happen to anyone. In short, the fact that he was wasting away in a hospital sucked big time.

  Flynn’s face was peaceful, his full lips relaxed. He had thick, dark brows above eyes that I just knew would be dark brown and smoldering. If they ever opened. I wished I could get a glimpse of them. Camille had recently shaved his face, but his hair needed brushing. She always left that for me.

  I retrieved the hair brush from the drawer next to his bed. I didn’t know what it was, but being near him comforted me, despite the fact that I felt a desperate longing for him to heal, and to wake up.

  He should be raising kids, laughing, making love to his wife. If he had a wife. He didn’t. I’d not only googled him more than once, I’d also sneaked a peek at his e-records. It was kind of against the rules, but I wasn’t above a little innocent rule breaking.

  Flynn Bennett was thirty-two years old, he’d been comatose for six months after a near fatal accident. He’d been working at an automotive shop when a malfunctioning lift dropped the car he was working on, crushing him underneath. The ER doctors on call the night he was brought in noted that his wounds began healing remarkably fast. His subsequent medical teams noted similarly, his injuries healed incredibly quickly.

  All but the trickiest injury of all—his brain.

  There was no indication that he’d wake up. He was breathing on his own, had a nasogastric feeding tube inserted through his nasal passage that hadn’t had any complications despite the fact that, statistically speaking, complications with long term use of the tubes were common. In every sense, he was healthy. His vitals were steady and stable. Yet, he wouldn’t wake up—possibly ever.

  I pulled the brush gently through his hair starting at the ends and working toward the roots.

  “Hi Flynn.”

  I used my finger to brush a strand of his dark hair off his forehead and felt a jolt of warmth. Every time I touched him, I felt a tingly warmth run through me.

  “My morning was okay. Until my mother called and insisted I give Martin Fink another shot. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. It’s not like I have prospects lined up around the block.”

  I stroked my finger over his cheek and wondered where his thoughts were. Did he even have any thoughts? According to his chart, his brain activity wasn’t nil, but it also wasn’t active enough for them to predict he’d return to any sort of functionality. My chest tightened and I cupped his cheek, feeling more emotional than I probably should have over a man I didn’t know.

  As I stared down at Flynn, the strangest feeling came over me. Visions of the story of Sleeping Beauty filled my mind—the Disney animated 1959 movie. A classic. Then, my body moved without my permission and I leaned down to gently kiss his cheek. I was an inch away from his face before my brain started up again. What the hell was I doing? I hovered for a moment before releasing a sad whimper, and straightening.

  I had no business touching him like that, even if it was just a peck on the cheek. He was a patient, a human being, with a right to his privacy, regardless of his state. I forced myself to take a few steps back from his bed. Each step away from him hurt like a physical blow. Why was it so hard for me to put distance between us?

  Caught between leaving and going back to the maternity ward, or giving in to what I desperately wanted to do, I stood in the middle of the room wringing my hands. It was wrong, but now I had that stupid Sleeping Beauty fairytale stuck in my head. It had been wrong for the prince to kiss Sleeping Beauty, too. One couldn’t just go around kissing people willy-nilly without their consent. Yet, I found myself taking a step closer to him. A voice in my head urged me forward, told me I’d regret it if I didn’t do it.

  Fighting it was useless. It felt as though Flynn had his own gravitational pull, and it was drawing me in—closer and closer. I stared down at his face, a juxtaposition of beautiful and rough. I cupped his cheek, just a hint of stubble against my palm.

  “Wake up, Flynn.” Leaning in, ever so gently, I brushed my lips over his. My mind knew it was inappropriate, but I did it anyway. I kissed him. When our lips touched, it felt like the rightest thing I’d ever done in my life.

  I breathed a small sob at the injustice. Tears pooled in my eyes. Before I could fully straighten, a massive hand clamped onto my upper arm. I gasped as it pulled me back down. I wasn’t sure what was happening, until I saw a pair of dark brown eyes staring up at me in confusion. I opened my mouth to call for Camille, but nothing came out. He latched onto my other arm too, dragging me closer with surprising strength.

  He said something. It was hard to decipher because his voice, after so long without use, was a mix between a raspy growl and a breathy whisper. But it sounded like he’d said, “Mate.”

  When his lips pressed against mine again, the sizzle of electric sparks burned straight to my core. I forgot where I was, and why I shouldn’t be kissing him, until the wild beeping of his monitors brought me back to reality.

  I pulled away and studied the monitors for a moment. Camille would be running in to check on him. She’d arrive any second. I had to go. I didn’t belong there. I looked back down to find that Flynn had followed my gaze and, with a confused frown, was also staring at the machines.

  “I…uh….shouldn’t be here. I’m glad you’re awake.”

  He growled something incoherent as I turned to leave. I didn’t stop until I reached the door where I paused, just a moment. “Welcome back, Flynn.”

  I swung open the door and almost collided with Camille. “Is everything okay in there?”

  I sniffled and cleared my throat. “He’s awake.” I didn’t dare glance back at the bed before I took off down the hall as fast as I could while simultaneously wiping the tears from my eyes. The farther I got, the faster I went, practically sprinting by the time I reached the maternity ward.

  Ruby was at the station directing a smiling gray-haired couple, no doubt proud grandparents, to the nursery’s viewing window. When she saw me, she stood up abruptly. “What’s wrong?”

  I forced myself to take a couple deep breaths and hurried over to my list. As long as I focused on doing my job, I’d be okay. Running my finger down the column of items, I tried to make my eyes focus on the words, but I couldn’t.

  “Arden. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  When I met her concerned gaze, my panic escalated. “He’s awake.” Ruby was the only other person on this earth, besides Flynn Bennett’s direct care nurses, who knew I visited him daily. There were so many thoughts and emotions swirling in my head. One was the fact that I’d kissed a patient. While he was comatose. I could lose my job over that. I probably deserved to lose my job. I was mortified. Well, I would be mortified after the shock of seeing Flynn’s eyes and the buzz from that kiss wore off.

  “Who’s awake? What are you talking about?”

  “Flynn. Flynn Bennett. He woke up from his coma.”

  “Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” She threw her hands in the air before touching her forehead, chest, and shoulders, making the sign of the cross.

  I turned to face her and grabbed her hands. “There’s something else. Promise you won’t say anything?”

  “Okay. I promise.”

  “I kissed him. I kissed a man in a coma. A patient.”

  She stared at me blankly for a moment and then laughed quietly, so she wouldn’t disturb the Chan family. When I didn’t join her in laughing, she froze and
squeezed my hands. “You’re not joking.”

  “No.”

  “What were you thinking? Why?”

  I let her go and ran my hands through my hair, forgetting belatedly that it was in a ponytail. “I-I don’t know. I don’t even know what came over me. I just leaned down and brushed my lips against his and then…he woke up.”

  “Holy shit. You’re shitting me right now. I know you are. You gotta be shitting me. Are you shitting me right now?”

  “No. I kissed him and he woke up.”

  She inhaled sharply and fell back down in her chair. “Then what?”

  “Then nothing. I ran out of there.”

  She just stared at me, her face a mask of incredulity. Then she flapped her hand in front of her face fanning herself. “Wow. That’s like crazy romantic.”

  3

  Flynn

  My muscles were stiff and my brain was fuzzy. I definitely wasn’t at 100%. If I was, I would have stopped my mate from running away. I tried, but she slipped out before I could get up out of this damned bed and grab her. I wasn’t sure where I was. A hospital? Had to be a hospital. Some damn woman was fussing over me asking questions and babbling something about a doctor being on her way.

  There were machines beeping around me and an assaulting odor of disinfectant. Why was I in a hospital bed? I couldn’t remember. Didn’t really matter. The only thing that mattered was my mate. Where had she gone? Why? And how did I get her back?

  I rolled over and swung my legs off the side of the bed trying to push myself up to a sitting position. A wiry older woman in a white lab coat with a stethoscope around her neck ran into the room, gasped, and rushed over holding her hands out in front of me.

  “You’re awake! Don’t sit up. I need to examine you. You’re still too weak to support your own weight.”

  I ignored her and slowly sat up. A wave of dizziness hit me.

  “Son, you’re a miracle. It’s not every day that a man wakes up from a coma after six months.”

  What? Six months?! As the dizziness began to subside, a sharp pain splintered my skull. I struggled against memory fog—and a splitting headache—to figure out what the hell was going on. Everything was hazy. My only clear thought involved her. I needed to find her. That very thought seemed to rouse my tiger. He was sluggish but anxious. Anxious to hunt down our mate. He had no patience for the doctor in front of us. The doctor was just an obstacle between us and our mate. His low growl made my head throb harder.