Like the Seasons

by Tymber Dalton

  “I’m going to try to get some work done. Hopefully keep the worst of my e-mail contained.” He set his mug on the coffee table. “Part of me is tempted to jerk off right now with you listening and unable to do anything except get hard and picture me doing it.”

  An adorable little squeak made it over the line. “That’s mean,” Caleb whispered.

  “No, mean would be me taking pictures of myself jerking off and texting them to you while requiring you lock a chastity cage on yourself and send me pictures as proof, then randomly texting you to go into the bathroom and text me pictures as proof you still have it on.”

  Another squeak, making Boyd smile. “That’s just cruel, Sir,” he whispered, but his tone told Boyd he wouldn’t say no.

  Except Boyd wasn’t that sadistic. He didn’t want to totally bork Caleb’s concentration for the day. “Yes, it is. Which is why you should consider it a viable threat I’ll hold in reserve for special occasions that warrant it.” He chuckled. “But for now, I’ll let you get going. I’m sure you need to head to the bathroom to adjust yourself so you can return to work.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Oh, and boy?”

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “No more masturbating. I’m going to go rub one out, because I haven’t come since I was with you, and you jerked off Friday night. Next time you come will be with me here on Friday. Understand?”

  Definitely a squeak. “Yes, Sir,” he breathily replied.

  “Good boy. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Sir.”

  Now Boyd really wanted to masturbate. He took his phone with him into the bathroom, where he stripped for his shower and took several pictures to send to Caleb later.

  Yeah, I’m not a nice man at alllll.

  Then he stood in the shower and jerked his cock, wishing he had Caleb kneeling in front of him to lick and suck it for him. He took his time, stopping so he could actually shower before starting again, finally stroking himself to completion. After he came he leaned against the shower wall to catch his breath.

  He hadn’t felt this horny in…years.

  Not even Kent’s parties had ever left him feeling like this. Horny…and satisfied at the same time.

  Because for the first time, he finally had someone in his life he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and whom he was reasonably sure wanted to spend the rest of their life with him.

  * * * *

  Ella looked exhausted when she returned that evening.

  “Okay, tell me now,” Boyd said, “because I won’t let it drop.”

  She dumped her lunch container into the sink. “As soon as I got there, he was waiting for me in the parking garage and started harassing me. Fortunately, two other nurses were there and basically told him to go fuck himself. All three of us reported it to Ms. Calgary as soon as she arrived at work at nine.”

  “What are they going to do about it? And did you play the voice mail for her?”

  She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the counter. “She indicated he’s going to get terminated. Technically she wasn’t supposed to tell me that, I guess, but just like she hinted around at filing a lawsuit.”

  “You rethinking that? Because it means you could move and not worry.”

  “It wouldn’t pay out in time to pay my bills right now. I just want to do my job and be left alone. He doesn’t want to be part of my baby’s life, fine, but he doesn’t need to be a dick.”

  “Well, he is a Richard. Maybe he should be called Dick instead of Rick.”

  Finally, the ghost of a smile. She leaned in and hugged him. “Thanks for cooking, Dad. Do I have time for a shower?”

  “Yeah, go ahead.”

  He watched her leave the kitchen and wondered how difficult it’d be to hire a hit man and get away with it.

  And was only a little bit serious.

  Maybe.

  * * * *

  Boyd insisted on driving Ella to work Wednesday morning, dropping her off at the ER entrance. He didn’t want the asshole to have a chance to harass her.

  “Promise to call me if he starts something.”

  “I’ll call security first, but yeah.”

  What he didn’t tell her was he planned to set up in the coffeeshop so he could be there for her.

  Just after ten thirty, she called him in tears. “They just fired him,” she said.

  “What happened? Are you all right?”

  “He cornered me in a supply room on the ward. I thought he was going to hit me and I screamed. Several people came running, and security dragged him out.”

  Relieved, Boyd leaned back in his seat. “You don’t leave the building until I get there, hear me?”

  “No worries about that, Dad.” She sniffled. “Thanks for driving me today.”

  “I’ll drive you tomorrow, too.”

  “No, I’ll be okay. They told me I can park in the patient area right by the entrance for a couple of weeks. He won’t dare start something with me there. Or I can sit in my car in the parking garage and call for a security escort, and they’ll send a cart after me.”

  “And you’ll not be stubborn and refuse it, right?”

  “I’m not arguing with you. I won’t be stubborn, I promise. I just thought he was a jerk. I didn’t know he was a psycho.”

  “This mean you’ll let me and Caleb pack your apartment this weekend and get you moved?”

  At least it earned him a laugh. “I’ll pack as much as I can over the next couple of months, then we can schedule you to come out. I don’t want to spend my first weekend meeting my step-dad doing that. I’d rather show him around the area.”

  Step-dad.

  Boyd couldn’t argue with that reasoning.

  Well, he could, but he wouldn’t. “You’re going to love Florida, sweetheart, I promise.”

  “Yeah, well, I promise I’m also going to start searching for jobs there online. If I find one before then that won’t mind me going on maternity leave, maybe I’ll move sooner.”

  “Really?”

  “Even my stubbornness knows its limits.”

  He smiled. “Thanks, sweetheart. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Dad. Now let me get back to work.”

  He relaxed a little, because at least he now knew. She would move to Florida.

  All he had to do was try to coax her into making it sooner rather than later.

  Chapter Eleven

  Late Thursday afternoon, Boyd drove out to the cemetery again and took another batch of flowers. Maybe it was a useless gesture, but it made him feel a tiny bit better by doing it.

  By sitting there and talking to Helen.

  Apologizing.

  “I will find your parents, if they’re still alive,” he said. “And I’ll give them a piece of my fucking mind for you.”

  In all honesty, he couldn’t remember the details of that last night with her, not all of them. Not even specifically of the act itself, beyond how terrified he’d felt and fumbling around. Especially once he realized he needed to think about a guy on the football team to keep his erection and get over.

  And, he was ashamed to admit, he didn’t even know if he’d made Helen feel good in the process. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her.

  He remembered taking her home later, relief washing through him that he’d never have to do that again, never have to sleep with another girl, and feeling vaguely guilty he hadn’t told her his family was moving, or where. He’d honestly thought the news would have slipped out, but it hadn’t. Not at school, at least.

  “I’m sorry I ghosted on you, honey.” He stroked the sun-warmed granite. “I thought you’d meet someone else and go on to have a decent life with them. I never meant to get you pregnant. I damn sure never meant for you to spend the rest of your life alone.”

  He pulled out his phone and looked at one of the last pictures ever taken of her, by Ella, at the ocean. Helen wore a sad smile and looked out over the water, the years and strain having aged
her far more than himself. Many people thought he was younger than his thirty-nine years.

  Helen looked like she was at least fifty, heavy wrinkles and lines around her eyes and mouth, liberal amounts of grey in her auburn hair.

  She hadn’t even bothered to try to color it, not wanting to spend the money on herself.

  Always putting Ella first in her life, even to her own expense.

  More guilt.

  More. Fucking. Guilt.

  It didn’t matter what logic said—his heart knew he’d spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to Ella, and to his grandchild.

  He stopped on the way back to her apartment and went grocery shopping so he could cook them dinner. Today would be day three of Ella’s work week, and she’d have the next three days off, which worked out perfectly.

  Tomorrow, she and Caleb would get to meet. Maybe Caleb’s enthusiastic acceptance of the situation would help cement her decision to move to Florida and prod her to accelerate the timeline.

  By the time he returned to the apartment it was nearly dark and later than he’d planned to be. He was walking out to grab his cell charger, which he’d forgotten in the rental, when Ella’s car pulled into the parking area and parked in a spot opposite his, facing the other way. When she got out he called out to her, waving and holding a hand up in greeting as headlights from another car swept over her.

  She stepped toward him—and the next few seconds passed in a horrific, slow-motion blur. The other car’s tires squealed as the driver gunned the engine and apparently aimed right for her. Ella seemed to realize the car wasn’t swerving or slowing and at the last second, she tried to jump out of the way.

  The sickening thump was nearly drowned out by the sound of the car’s engine and his own screams.

  “Ella!” Boyd was already running, every sense heightened and his pulse throbbing in his neck as he nearly tripped trying to scramble down to the parking lot.

  He heard a crash nearby, but he couldn’t see where Ella landed, at first. He finally found her, facedown and moaning on the pavement, between her car and the one parked on the far side of her.

  “Oh, god! Hold on, honey, don’t move!” With trembling fingers he pulled out his phone and dialed 911, putting it on speaker mode as he held her hand.

  A woman ran up and she was already on the phone with 911, apparently. He shoved his phone at her, too, as he stayed there with Ella. “Tell them she’s pregnant!”

  He heard people shouting nearby and it took every ounce of will he had not to leave her to go see if it was the fucker who’d hit her.

  Deliberately hit her.

  Shit.

  He suspected he knew exactly who would turn out to be the driver, and yeah, it’d be best if he didn’t go see.

  Because if it turned out to be Rick McDorman, Boyd knew he’d kill the fucker right there, and Ella needed him more.

  The other woman, still on the phone, returned his phone to him after disconnecting with the 911 operator on that call.

  Ella was still moaning, crying, and he hoped that was a good thing. That, and she was squeezing his hand hard.

  “Don’t move, honey. I’m right here.”

  “It hurts. My leg, it hurts so bad.”

  “I know, sweetie. The ambulance is coming.” She tried to roll over but he wouldn’t let her, knowing she needed to stay immobile in case she had other injuries.

  The next few minutes passed in another confused, painful blur as the ambulance arrived, and police, and another ambulance.

  The first officer on the scene wanted Boyd to stay behind and give a statement, but Boyd demanded to ride to the hospital with Ella. The officer finally agreed they’d have another officer follow along and interview him there. After locating Ella’s purse and duffel bag where they’d landed, and running up to lock her apartment door, Boyd climbed in with the ambulance crew.

  Only then did he look to see what had happened to the car that had hit her.

  It’d crashed into a Dumpster and the concrete enclosure surrounding it. The driver’s door stood open, but on the ground beneath it lay a sheet-shrouded form.

  * * * *

  Ella was taken to the closest hospital, not the same one she worked at. She remained conscious the entire ride to the hospital, which was a good thing. An officer arrived minutes later, and while Ella was whisked off to radiology, the officer talked to Boyd and took his statement.

  Stunned and now shaking, he kept Ella’s things in his lap and hugged them as he recalled what happened.

  “Is he really dead? The driver?”

  The officer nodded. “There were several empty alcohol bottles on the front passenger floorboard. He sustained a severe head injury in the wreck. Airbags went off, but we don’t think he was wearing his seatbelt, based on what the windshield looked like. Partially went through it, and a few chunks of concrete came through the windshield, too. Seems like he hit it pretty hard. He was unresponsive when bystanders ran over and pulled him out of the wreck.”

  “He was fucking drunk, huh?”

  “Have to wait for preliminary toxicology reports, but I’d guess yes.”

  “I haven’t seen that car around. Did he live there?”

  The officer looked at his notes. “Richard McDorman. Ring a bell?” A look of recognition must have filled Boyd’s face, because the officer’s gaze narrowed. “Sir?”

  “Doctor Richard McDorman?”

  “That I don’t know. Why?”

  “Because it can’t be a mere coincidence that the guy who knocked Ella up, who is a doctor by that same name, and who got fired yesterday from the hospital they both worked at because he threatened her for reporting him to HR, suddenly tried to run her over.”

  The officer pulled out a cell phone and called someone. Moments later, they had their answer.

  “It’s him.”

  Boyd slumped back in his chair. “Motherfucker.”

  “I think I’m going to need you to back up and start over with your story, sir.”

  Boyd nodded and did just that, including their meeting with McDorman, and with Lorena Calgary, and the events that led to McDorman being terminated from the hospital.

  Once Boyd finished his statement, the officer stepped out to make a few phone calls, promising to return shortly so he could talk to Ella.

  It was nearly eight local time, meaning eleven in Florida, and he realized he hadn’t called Caleb yet that evening. Hoping Caleb was still awake, he made the call.

  “Hey, Sir. I was just about to go to bed.”

  “Yeah, it…got crazy here tonight.”

  “Crazy?”

  There was no other way through the maze than through it. He told Caleb the short version, trying not to hold his breath at the silence from the other end of the line.

  “Cay?”

  “Can you change your ticket, Sir?”

  “My ticket?”

  “Yeah. Can you transfer it to her? She can fly home with me on Sunday.”

  “What?”

  “We’ll pack her apartment while I’m there. You said it’s small, right?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Fine. We pack her stuff, and you take a few extra days off and drive back. If we can get it packed sooner so you can leave ahead of us, she and I can stay behind in a hotel room and still fly home Sunday. She can live with us until she can be on her own again, and then she can either take my apartment, or eventually find another one while she stays with us. Either way.”

  Now Boyd really felt like crying. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, no question. Why?”

  “This is…this is a lot.”

  “So?”

  “God, I fucking love you so much right now, Cay.”

  “Love you, too. We’ll make it through this.”

  “Might have to tone down our extracurricular activities for a while.”

  Caleb chuckled. “Yeah, well, not like she doesn’t know we’re kinky. And it’s a small price to pay to know she and the baby are safe.
”

  He was off the call by the time they wheeled Ella back into the room. The nurse left, promising to return shortly, but the female resident stayed behind while she went over Ella’s chart on the computer in the room. Boyd was relieved to see Ella was still awake, although she now had an IV and was apparently being given something for her pain.

  The officer had returned, but when Boyd asked for a couple of minutes with her first, he nodded. “I’ll wait right out here,” the officer said. “I only need to talk to her for a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” Boyd clasped her hand in his and leaned in. “Hey, there.”

  “I’m going to live, Dad.” Her forced smile didn’t fool him in the least. “Minor pelvic fracture, busted left ankle, and my left knee’s swollen from the impact but it doesn’t look like I tore any tendons or ligaments. They don’t think I have any internal injuries.”

  “She’s very lucky,” the ER resident said as she went through Ella’s chart. “Ortho looked at her ankle, and she won’t need surgery because of where the fracture is, and it’s minor, but we’re going to put her in a brace to stabilize it.”

  “How’s the baby?” he asked.

  “Everything looks okay right now, but we’ll want to keep her overnight for observation. Possibly until Saturday. And she’s going to need to stay off her feet for at least four weeks or she could injure her ankle worse.”

  “Can she fly?”

  The doctor turned from the computer terminal she was working on. “Say what?”

  “Fly. Can I put her on an airplane and send her to Florida?”

  “Oh, yes, I suppose. Not today.”

  “Sunday afternoon.” He met Ella’s gaze, daring her to argue with him.

  “She should be okay to fly by then, yes. You’ll need to get a wheelchair, though. To use in the airport. She should not be walking any more than necessary for the next week, at least. And she’ll also need crutches. No weight on that ankle, at all, for right now.”

  “She’ll have that.”

  “In that case, I don’t see a problem, as long as no complications develop overnight. Let me check on if they’ve got her a room or not.” She left them alone.