Memory… dream… hope… The voice was clear, but I didn’t know which part of my brain it came from.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “My head feels like it’s being tied too tight into a corset.”
“With the severity of your concussion, that’s not surprising,” she replied, her smile growing a little as she added, “Though I don’t know that I’ve ever heard someone describe it like that before.”
I exhaled easily as the grip on my head released. “Must be the head injury.”
We both chuckled as she turned to the monitor next to my bed and flipped open my chart.
“I’ll give you something for the pain.”
“What else should I expect?” I asked, though nothing could be worse than the blank space of memory I couldn’t access—a space that was surrounded by an electrical fence that punished me for getting too close.
I listened as she went through the details of my injuries and what would happen over the next few weeks, though, oddly, my focus began to drift to what she was doing rather than what she was saying.
She checked the monitors and IV I was hooked up to before recording my blood pressure and pulse. Then, she pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and listened to my heart and lungs.
“Perfect,” she said when she finished. “Do you have any questions I can answer for you?”
“Do you love it?” I blurted out, knowing it wasn’t the kind of question she meant.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry.” I licked my lips. “I mean… I was just wondering if you love your job?”
If it was possible, her smile grew even wider.
“There are some days when I go home so tired and think to myself that I don’t know if I can do this another day. But every morning, I wake up and know that there isn’t a day when I don’t want to do this.” She chuckled softly. “Sorry, I guess that’s a fancy yes.”
Her eyes narrowed on me perceptively. “Are you… interested in becoming a nurse?”
My gaze drifted from hers.
“I… was,” I admitted. “I mean, I guess I still am but—”
Before I could even voice my excuse for why it wasn’t going to happen, especially now, she gasped and babbled cheerfully, “That’s wonderful! You’re welcome to come shadow me…from the other side of the bed, once you’re feeling better.”
I couldn’t help but smile, grateful for her kindness.
“Let me give you my number if you have any questions about anything—even school. I used to tutor students in the program on my days off, so I have a ton of materials and things if you want to take a look and get an idea of what you are in for,” Gwen offered.
She turned away to write some things down in my chart and guilt hit me anew.
I shouldn’t be thinking about this right now. I’d just been kidnapped. And beaten.
But what if it was my wake-up call?
“Thank you,” I said softly, tiredness taking its toll on my wary anticipation. “I’ll… think about it.”
“No pressure. No rush.” She patted my hand. “I’ll leave my number here, you can call or text me anytime. It can be a lot and a lot overwhelming but if you’re interested”—she gave me a confident nod—“I’d love to do what I can to help.”
Do what you can.
I didn’t say anything else as she scribbled down her number on the back of her card and set it on the table next to my bed. By the time the door clicked shut, my eyes had already surrendered to the weight pulling them closed.
Nursing was my dream—one of those dreams that you wish on every star for and whisper every time you blow out candles. It was the reason I studied so hard and pushed to be the best in my class. I wanted to help people. Instead, I loved my parents, so I chose to help them. For as long as I could remember, I’d stood at the very edge of my castle on the hill, torn between what I wanted and who I loved.
Kidnapped.
Beaten.
Even though last night had scarred me. Even though I’d lost a piece of my memory. I drifted to sleep feeling like, somehow, I’d found a piece of myself—a piece I wasn’t sure existed.
And it was a strength that both prevented me from going back to the life I’d previously led and pushed me irrevocably forward onto a very different path.
A path paved with the dreams I’d previously let fall by the wayside.
Jules
Two Weeks Later
“Remember, it’s your life. It’s your choice. And I’m right here to help you, whatever you need.”
Laurel’s voice was warm and energizing, just like the espresso being served to the small group gathered inside Roasters for its re-opening. After a break-in that wrecked the inside and my grandfather’s subsequent death, it had taken Laurel and her boyfriend, Eli, several weeks to get things back in order. I’d stopped in a few times during the process, Laurel always asking for my input, but, after the kidnapping, I’d missed seeing the final stages.
“Enough about me,” I begged. “Today is about you and what an incredible job you did with Roasters.”
My gaze lingered behind her at the photos on the wall going back to our great-great-grandfather. The black and white images spanned the decades that Ocean Roasters had been the center of Carmel’s community, famous for not only its coffee but for its hospitality.
My eyes caught on one photograph of Laurel, her mother, and me, sitting on the very bench I was on right now, while my aunt Fiona read Little Women to us, and I smiled. These were the kinds of memories that felt like family—the kinds of memories that didn’t exist with my own parents.
“No, not enough,” she insisted. “You’re welcome to stay with me. You can even work here to earn money while you get your degree. Anything, Jules. I’ll do anything I can to help.”
A shudder rippled through me. It went without saying that my parents wouldn’t support me in this, emotionally or financially.
I reached out and pulled her in for a hug before my haywire emotions got the best of me.
“Pap would be so proud of you.” Not just because of what she’d done with the business, but because she stepped in and offered her help; that was what the Oceans were known for.
She shook with emotion, squeezing me tight, and then pulled back. Her blue eyes glistened. “He’d be proud of you, too, Jules.”
“Thanks.” I gave her a brave smile. “We’ll talk later. Today is for celebrating Roasters.”
I nodded over to the front door where everyone was waiting for her to let in the crowd that stood outside, eager to join the small group of friends and family here now.
“I agree.” Her smile said she was going to hold me to my promise.
She met Eli at the front door and opened it to the throng of people waiting for entrance.
I took another look at the photos on the freshly-painted lavender wall, lingering on one of her with her parents and our pap.
They would all be so proud.
To lose me to boarding school, then our grandmother, and then her parents to a freak boating accident, no one in Carmel Cove blamed Laurel for giving up any claim on the coffee shop and moving to Los Angeles. But when our pap died and she came home, when she faced this place that held so much loss and not only turned it back into the community’s safe haven, but also managed to find healing and love for herself… I’d never admired anyone more than when she told me she was going to stay.
My throat thickened.
The hardest kind of bravery is the one needed to fight for yourself. And I wanted to be that kind of brave.
I’d learned the hard way it was easier to do right by someone else than it was to do right by yourself. And I’d done right by my parents for so long, it was difficult to admit how much I’d harmed myself in the process.
But these last two weeks had made it impossibly clear.
I belonged here—with the people who cared about me and my dreams.
I stood from the soft purple and blue plaid-covered bench along the one wall of the
coffee shop, determined to grab an apple fritter and slip out the back. Out of habit, I went to smooth down my pants, forgetting that I’d put on the pair of jeans that stayed tucked away in my closet; I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn a pair of jeans. Maybe high school.
Ladies don’t wear denim, my mother’s words rang shrilly in my head.
Now, they were just one more small way I was breaking free from a life that held me in chains. And, when I put on jeans and a pale blue sweater that draped off one shoulder, I felt more like myself—bruises, brain injury and all—than I had in a long time.
Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.
The words caught my eye and stopped me in my tracks. The wooden plaque, inscribed with my pap’s favorite tidbit of advice, hung proudly on the wall above the espresso machine. He’d pointed to it the night I told him I wanted something different for my life and asked if it was too late to start over—if it was too late to chase my dreams.
It was never too late. And here I was, chasing.
“How are you feelin’, Miss Vandelsen?” A rich southern twang sweetened my ears, the sound sending a shock through my system.
I didn’t have to look to know who it came from. I’d felt his eyes on me like the sun blazing behind my cloud of feigned ignorance since the moment I walked into the room.
Mick Madison.
And just like the sun, I couldn’t stop myself from turning to look at him. Or warming at the sight.
Mick was impressive.
From the first time I met him here, when my grandfather introduced us several months ago, I’d searched for the right word to describe just what he was and capture the effect he had; impressive was the only one that stuck.
I’d met a lot of good-looking men at the resort—actors, models, politicians—but Mick was impressively handsome, with his carefully kept light-brown hair, sparkling blue eyes, and wide, white smile. His Madison Construction tee layered over his well-built chest as though it had been painted on, and his jeans, with all their scuffs, clung to his legs in a way that made my breath catch.
And he was easily the largest man in the room. If Texas were a person—a man—it would be him—bigger, better, and everything warm and inviting. But I had a feeling everything about his gentle giant persona would end quickly if someone he loved was threatened; because you didn’t mess with Texas…
Though Texas certainly seemed to be messing with me at the moment.
Thankfully, composure was drilled into my DNA.
Conceal, don’t feel; my mother pioneered the idea of a frozen façade long before Disney made it popular.
So, when my pulse picked up and my mouth watered at Mick’s rugged handsomeness, there was no outward evidence.
Aside from a few greetings here and there—and the times I let myself wander and gaze at him when he did work at the resort like some sort of teenage crush—we’d never really talked or been in the same place before. Not like this.
The few times I’d seen him at the coffee shop, he was just passing through. And when he did work at Rock Beach, I didn’t do anything more than observe. How could I when I was always being observed?
“I-I’m sorry?” I stammered, wishing I hadn’t pulled my hair back into its tight bun for once so that I could have something to shield me.
Apparently, the casual attire was as wild as I was willing to risk at the moment, loose hair being a step too far.
His toe-curling smile grew unevenly into the sweetest dimple on one side, shining through the shadow of his tawny beard. I had the urge to lick it—to see how sweet it tasted and how rough the stubble would feel against my tongue.
Julia Agnes Vandelsen!
I bit back a groan. Even when my mind scolded me, it was with my mother’s tone.
“Heard about the incident the other week.” He looked over to my cousin. “Really fuckin’—Sorry. Really terrible what happened.” His dimple flickered at that last part as his jaw tensed. “I was wonderin’ if you were doin’ okay, Miss Vandelsen?”
Pain seared through my head so sharply and suddenly I swayed, those same words and that same accent echoing through my mind.
‘I’ve got you, darlin’. You’re goin’ to be just fine.’
“Woah, there, darlin’.” Strong, warm hands locked around my shoulders, holding me steady. But it was a grip of familiarity that caught my breath.
Impossible.
If this were a Disney movie, I’d break out into song at this moment and claim, ‘I know you, I danced with you once upon a dream…’ But, there was no dream. And, in spite of my castle and fancy jewels, I was more a prisoner to duty than a princess.
My brain was messing with me—a not-uncommon occurrence as of late. Searching for bits and pieces from that night, it clung to things that weren’t true, desperate for answers.
Mick Madison hadn’t been there. He hadn’t held me. In fact, I’d never said much more than pleasantries to him before this moment.
“Sorry.” I exhaled and tried to gain my bearings. “Yes, I’m on the mend.” I offered him my best brave smile. “Sometimes when I stand too quickly, I get a really bad head rush…” Or a heart rush. “And please, just call me Jules.”
Even though his Southern show of respect made my whole body warm. And when he called me ‘darlin’…
Don’t even think about it.
“Glad to hear it.” Realizing that his hands were still on my arms and that we were drawing a few curious stares, thankfully only from his twin brother, Miles, and the Covington brothers, Dex, Bennet, and Ace, Mick hesitantly released me.
“Jules!” We both turned as Gwen came over and wrapped me in a hug.
It took me a moment to recognize her without her scrubs on and without her hair tied back. “I wasn’t sure I would see you here, but I’m so glad you made it. I’ve been thinking about you.”
There was no trace of guilt in her tone but that didn’t mean I didn’t hear it.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye,” I said as she pulled back from the embrace. “My mom really wanted to get me home.”
My mother had checked me out of the hospital early. At first, it had been against medical advice, but after a stern conversation with Dr. Botkin, he finally conceded that as long as I spent a few more days under strict bedrest at the resort, it would be okay for me to leave.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re doing okay.” She reached out and rubbed my arm, her eye catching the mountain of a man that stood next to her. “Oh hey, Mick! I didn’t even see you there.”
I coughed to suppress the choked laugh. How could she miss him?
“Really?” He chuckled, and the way his dimples grew made my knees shake. “Is that how you’re goin’ to treat the man responsible for fixin’ up your apartment?”
Gwen rolled her eyes and swatted his arm. A pang of sadness shot through me, wondering if there was more going on than met the eye.
Sure, Mick and his brother, Miles, owned a construction company, so he could be helping her as part of a job. Instead, I worried there was more, and I worried why the idea of more bothered me.
“Yeah, yeah,” she lightly huffed, hardly giving him a glance before her focus was back on me; I wasn’t sure what was worse. “Do you still have my number? Are you still thinking about nursing school? I’m more than happy to help. In fact, my dog, Oscar, would be really grateful because otherwise, I either pick up extra shifts and overwork myself, or, I dress him up and take far too many photos of him.”
I couldn’t help but smile when she did; it was like her smile was just too big to be restricted to her face alone.
Heat suffused into my cheeks. “I still have it. And… I’m not sure yet. Still just trying to get back into the swing of things.”
There were still details I needed to sort out, not the least of which was finally telling my parents what my intentions were.
“Of course.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Well, I’m here if you need m
e. In the meantime, I’m going to grab some espresso before they’re all brewed out.”
I could have told her there was no way, with all the beans that I saw in the back, that Ocean Roasters was running out of coffee anytime soon, but she was gone before I could blink.
“You want to be a nurse?”
“I—”
“Larry would be proud.” The mention of my pap cut off my reply. “If there’s one thing the Oceans are known for around here, it’s helping people.”
“Yes.” My chin dipped. “They are.”
“Gwen’s great, by the way,” he added with a half-smile. “If you’re really thinking about it, I’d give her a call.”
“I will.” I nodded before I even realized what I’d said. What was I thinking? I hadn’t decided on anything yet. “I should get going. I have to get back home before my parents start to worry.”
I grimaced. Even if I was still recovering from my injuries, I shouldn’t be worried about being scolded by my parents at almost thirty. And I definitely shouldn’t be telling the only guy who made my stomach flutter that I only looked like a somebody when really, I was a nobody with nothing to my name except things that never mattered to me.
Heat licked over my body as he scanned it with concern and with something a little bit more—a little bit stronger. And hotter.
“If there’s anythin’ you need, Miss—Jules.” His voice took on a rough timbre. Oh my. My thighs squeezed together like he’d just licked right through them. “Here’s my number.”
I took his card with a weak smile and fled.
Jeans, nursing, and Mick Madison.
I’d wanted to start doing more things for myself but it seemed like at the first sniff of freedom, I’d gone and almost let myself overdose. None of those things would fly with who Jules Vandelsen was supposed to be.
But who she wanted to be…those things made that Jules slip out of the building with a smile on her face and hope in her chest.
Mick
“Why the frown on my Friendly Giant?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at the nickname Laurel had given me the day I’d picked her up on the side of the road and driven her into town for a drink in honor of her grandfather.
Bespoken: An Opposites-Attract Standalone Romance (Carmel Cove Book 2) Page 4
