by Kristy Marie
“Can I keep watching TV?” he asks hesitantly.
“Sure, but I want you to get some rest, too. Your body needs to recover from you almost freezing to death.” I tsk him a little, remembering his terrible decision to sleep in a ditch.
He nods, looking a little frightened. Ah. Night terrors. Been there done that. Dr. McCallister can fix that. I finish cleaning up and hand him the remote. Reaching for the sedative I stashed away earlier, I sit beside him.
“I’m going to give you something to help you sleep tonight.”
His eyes go wide. “I’ll be okay,” he blurts.
Rubbing his arm, I explain, “I know. But I have this crazy suspicion that you probably haven’t slept more than a couple hours at a time for years now. That’s not good for your body or for healing.” He’s shaking his head vehemently, but I don’t allow him to interrupt. “And I bet you suffer from nightmares.” Going still, his eyes widen in disbelief. Yeah, mama knows.
Possessiveness tingles up my spine. Internally, I tell myself to maintain a professional distance from this train wreck of a man because he honestly makes me want to pack him in the car and drive him away from every bad thing that has ever happened to him here. Why hasn’t anyone helped him? Is his family looking for him?
Stroking his arm, as soothingly as possible I say, “Trust me, Cade. You need sleep. This will help you sleep a dreamless night. Will you trust me?”
Without looking at me, he nods his head in acceptance.
“I’ll stay until you fall asleep, okay?”
“Okay.”
Cleaning the now empty IV port, I push the needle in and slowly feed the medicine. It takes about ten seconds before his arm relaxes and ten more seconds before his head falls back. Scooting him over, I lie down beside him, turn on HGTV and wait for his body to completely go lax.
Half an hour later, Cade is snoring softly in my ear. I turn off the TV, pull the blankets taut over his chest, and exit the room quietly.
What the fuck did I get myself into?
Rays of filtered sunshine stream through the slatted blinds, waking me. For the first time in years, I slept through the night. Although my knees creak and my entire body aches, I feel a thousand percent better than I did yesterday. Braced against the mountain of fluffy down pillows, all the memories of last night come rushing back.
Anniston, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.
I thought I was imagining her when she roused me from my makeshift bed.
Mother Nature was being a bitch, her frost coating every solid surface, making it impossible to find unoccupied sanctuary. Everyone living on the streets was scrambling to find a warm place to curl up. I’d managed to procure a spot behind a dumpster but soon after I settled in, a group of thugs claimed the area. I wasn’t looking to get my ass beat or arrested, so I slipped away.
With no destination in mind, I headed south. All I knew was that I was putting as much distance between me and the city as I could. I don’t remember how long I walked. I remember my lungs burned and it became harder to breathe. Finally, when my bones began to ache, I sought cover. But unlike the city, there are few bridges or abandoned buildings for shelter in the country. Too weak for one more step, I collapsed in a nearby drainage ditch. I don’t remember falling asleep.
I only remember waking to a golden angel. Even bundled up, I knew she was beautiful. Peach, wind-kissed cheeks played peek-a-boo through the tendrils of dirty blonde hair that managed to escape her beanie. They begged to be touched, and I craved to tuck them behind her ear. I didn’t reach for her, though. Her eyes, deep pools of blue with swirls of gold stared at me with so much concern that I just knew she could never be real. Not for a man like me.
Gorgeous. She was fucking gorgeous. I knew I was staring at a real-life angel. My time had come and instead of feeling scared or having regrets, I only felt relief. I could finally go home and leave this godforsaken world behind.
It wasn’t until she started shaking my shoulder that it occurred to me I could be on someone’s private property. But when I told her I would leave, her eyes became fierce. Confused. She pulled me up, and against my objections led me to her house.
Her house, for goodness’ sake. Was she crazy? I could have been a serial killer.
After that, things get a bit hazy. I remember her panic-stricken face as she struggled to cut off my shirt…the awful tea. I remember lying next to her as she devoured junk food like a pro. And her touch, a sweet caress to my face that led me out of madness. Most importantly, I remember feeling cherished for the first time in my thirty years.
The fresh smelling t-shirt and sweats hug my body like a glove. How long has it been since I have smelled fabric softener? The IV she insisted on is still dripping into my arm—she must have given me another bag during the night. As much as I hate needles, I have to admit, the fluids have helped. I almost feel like my old self again. Almost.
I give a few kicks to the pile of blankets she added last night, and can’t help but smile. She couldn’t leave well enough alone. She had to have the last say. Her tenacity is awe-inspiring, and I can’t help but feel crestfallen. I’ll have to leave today. She did her good deed and now she needs to go back to her normal life.
This is not my life anymore.
The door swings open with more energy than a person should have first thing in the morning. My angel practically sings, “Good morning, Gorgeous!”
Gorgeous. I remember her calling me that last night. The nickname squeezes my throat into a muffled cough. I’m not really sure how to react to such praise.
“How did you sleep?” she asks, leaning in close to check me out. The tension suddenly vanishes as she flops down beside my aching body.
“Like a baby,” I answer honestly.
She nods, checking the level in the IV bag. “Good. I told you and I’m never wrong.”
Twisting the sheet between my fingers, I respond with a snort. This girl is a handful. Whatever man has her is one lucky bastard.
“Would you like for me to take out this IV?”
I nod but then remember it’s better manners to speak. “Yes, please.”
She smiles, pleased with my verbal communication. “You’ll have to drink more fluids today.”
Some days, water and fluids are not readily available for people like me. Occasionally I can find an outdoor spigot or a drink someone threw away in the trash, but I have to be quick with those. All of us are scrounging around for leftovers.
It would break her heart if she knew the horrifying lengths I go through daily. I don’t want her to feel guilty and continue to help me when she may otherwise not. She’s done so much already. More than I deserve.
She begins to peel off the tape slowly, careful not to pull the hair on my forearm. I stay perfectly still, watching her delicate fingers work. She slides out the IV with graceful skill and quickly presses gauze to the barely bleeding wound. Not once did it hurt. Instructing me to hold some pressure, Anniston places a piece of tape over the gauze with a sincere smile. At this point, I would do anything she asked, just to keep her talking.
She fusses over the room, picking up trash and unused medical supplies left over from last night. I can’t tell if she’s a neat freak or just trying to alleviate the awkwardness of our situation. Once everything is to her liking, she graces me with a perfect smile and… a thermometer.
I may have groaned a little. And when an amused smile reaches her plump cheeks, it all but confirms I definitely did. I open up without bitching because in the short amount of time I’ve been here, I have learned this woman is not to be argued with. I could certainly try, but ultimately, she will do what she wants, everyone else be damned.
The thermometer beeps for what I hope will be the last time.
“Back to normal,” she informs me.
Blurting out the first thing that comes to mind, I state the obvious like a total dumbass, “You’re very good at this.” Smooth move, Cade. Of course she’s good at this, she’s a doctor
.
Anniston’s I-know-something-you-don’t-know expression makes me slightly nervous.
“I’ve had difficult patients before,” she admits, patting my back in a loving gesture before making her way to the door. “Come on, let’s get some breakfast.”
I hesitate, not sure what to do. Everything she continues to do for me leaves me with a false sense of security. This woman is not mine.
I pull in a ragged breath. “Anniston,” I breathe out unsteadily. “I need to get going.” I don’t know where I’m going, but she doesn’t need to know that. “I cannot thank you enough for saving my life last night.”
The lines around her eyes begin to pull tight.
“I don’t want to continue to monopolize any more of your time than I have already.”
This time, her eyes roll and she takes in a sudden breath. “Let me stop this word vomit right here.”
Her hands are on her hips and I didn’t notice before, but she is dressed in these tiny baseball pajamas. Literally tiny pink baseballs adorn the tight tank top that hugs the swell of her breasts, outlining each curve like a roadmap. I look down quickly, but her shorts are as skimpy as underwear. Look somewhere else, asshole.
“I didn’t ask if you wanted to get breakfast, Marine. I am ordering you to eat breakfast with me.”
Her order snaps me to attention. I haven’t been spoken to like this in years. I stare at her hard, allowing my fury to bubble to the surface. “This is not a game. I’m not a Marine anymore.” Stumbling out of bed, I take a purposely menacing step toward her. Her small shoulders square in retaliation as she takes a step forward, crowding me. What the fuck?
“You don’t scare me, Cade.” Her breath tickles my face, she’s that close.
Am I seriously trying to scare this woman who pulled me out of the dirt, saved my life, fed me, and gave me a place to sleep for the night? What an asshole I’ve become. I shake off the evil thoughts clouding my judgement and relax my stance. I am not an animal. I can at least indulge her in a breakfast she apparently feels strongly about.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long time since I have seen kindness. My manners need refreshing.”
She doesn’t smile, which has me fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. I hope I haven’t gone too far. People have limits, Cade.
“Come on, before it gets cold.” She turns to leave, not bothering to see if I will follow. She knows I will. What man wouldn’t?
The smell of bacon wafts out from the kitchen as Anniston pulls out a couple plates and motions me to come closer. “Help yourself.”
I stand in the doorway, hovering longer than is necessary, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m not used to being on the receiving end of kindness or in the presence of a beautiful woman. While examining the piles of food spread out on the counter, she offers me a plate with a knowing smile.
“There is enough food here to feed five or more people. Are you expecting others?” I ask.
She laughs. “No, I just figured we might want more after we go for a run.”
The plate slips from my grasp, but I right it before it has a chance to hit the floor. I work to clear the sudden knot in my throat. “A run?”
She shoves a piece of bacon in her mouth. “Uh huh. I run every morning. Figured it would do you some good, too.” Her eyes scour the food like she’s deciding what to eat next.
Her nonchalance since my arrival makes me feel like I’m being left out of a very big secret.
When I don’t respond, she lets out a heavy sigh and turns to face me. “I took today off, and since everyone else is at work, I could use the company.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal.
She gives me this smile that I’m sure gets her anything she wants.
“Stay with me today?” she begs, those long eyelashes fluttering in a dramatic effect.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” It isn’t. I didn’t hurt her last night, but I could. Every night terror is different. I may not be able to control myself the next time.
“Good decisions are for losers, Cade.”
That’s it. I actually laugh at the absurdity.
“Eat. We’ll discuss over breakfast,” she says with a grin, grabbing a handful of bacon and a muffin as she flops down at the table.
Eating with Anniston isn’t as awkward as I’d imagined. She keeps the conversation light and doesn’t ask any personal questions. Yet. I know that’s coming though. It always does.
She’s relaxed, sitting Indian-style, twirling a stray strand of hair. “So, how many miles do you normally run?”
I scoff. “I used to run ten to fifteen miles. But I haven’t run in quite some time.”
Her mouth pulls to one side and she nods. “Well, I usually run seven to ten. Today, though, we’ll just run until you puke.”
I choke on a bite of muffin. Coughing, I grab for the juice and attempt to wash it down. Anniston doesn’t try to help me, she just continues to stare and twirl that damn strand of hair.
I swallow most of the muffin and clear my throat a few times before I manage to speak again. “Beg your pardon?”
She shrugs and picks at a piece of bacon. I’m not sure she can hold anymore. She’s put away a vast amount of food for someone her size. “I’m just kidding, Cade. Your body can’t stand a run right now since you almost killed it yesterday, but maybe a walk would be nice?”
I’m silent, trying to get a handle on the recent turn of events.
“How about it, Gorgeous?” She stands and takes her unused plate to the sink. Shoving a fist-sized bite in to keep from talking, I grunt out a half-ass nod, consenting to a walk later. Later, as in I’m staying longer.
Finished, I push away from the table, taking my plate to the counter where Anniston is busy putting away the leftovers. “Can I help clean up?”
Her face lights up at my offer. “Sure! You can help me put all this in the fridge. We can wash the dishes later.”
Without another word, I take the Tupperware from her and start packaging everything up.
When we’re finished, she tells me that I need some shoes. Mine apparently are not appropriate for walking. The sole is ripped, the thread barely keeping it together. Still, I argue but as you may have guessed, it gets me nowhere but in the passenger seat of her white SUV, heading to the nearest shoe store.
We pull up to an outdoor mall about thirty minutes north of the city. It isn’t huge, but it’s functional.
“I think we’ll get you a few clothes too while we’re here.”
I shake my head with a firm no but she doesn’t even spare a glance my way.
“Come on, Gorgeous. We’re burning daylight.”
With that parting remark, she shuts the car door in my face, brooking no more argument. Fuck. This girl is going to break me. With a deep breath, I get out of the car and take my place beside her. “Where to, boss?” I tease. Might as well find humor in the situation.
Her head slowly turns toward me. “Ooh. I like that.” She gives me a flirty wink and motions in front of her. “Let’s stop at the sports store first and get you some running gear. Then we’ll head over to the department store for everything else.”
I don’t know what “everything else” is, but I’m certain we will be arguing several more times before the morning concludes.
The sports store isn’t as crowded as I was afraid it would be. Still, my eyes bounce around everywhere. It’s hard for me to focus. It’s been a long time since I have been shopping. Everything seems different. Brighter. More expensive.
Anniston grabs a buggy and begins piling stuff in. She doesn’t ask me for my size or if I even like the colors she’s picking out. I guess she knows I would insist we not purchase a damn thing. I follow behind her silently, hoping no one gives me trouble for being in here. I feel very out of place. Even though my clothes are clean and I look relatively human, I still think they know I’m homeless.
Anniston, however, acts like she owns this store. She never looks at anyone for approval. Sh
e’s a woman on a mission.
When she stops, looks at the buggy and back to me, I pray she’s finished.
“I think this will do for now. I don’t want to get too much because you’ll just outgrow it in a few weeks.”
Outgrow it? What am I, twelve? I don’t dispute it because she doesn’t give me the opportunity. She just ushers us to the nearest checkout. “Will you go check the price of that paddleboard over there?” she asks while rifling through her purse.
My eyes narrow into slits. It’s another one of her ploys. I’ve caught on to her strategies.
“What? I’m in the market for one. Hurry, so we can go.” She shoos me like a little kid who needs to finish his homework.
The only reason I walk away is to make her happy. I am almost one hundred percent positive it’s a deterrent so I can’t see the total for all the shit she’s buying. For me. Oh, God. I am in over my head here.
I approach the board she supposedly wants, admiring the smooth lines and quality of the overall design. Damn, these things are nice. In another life, I would have owned one. I don’t look at the price like she asked. What’s the point? It’s all a ruse, anyway.
When she calls my name, I stride over with a look of annoyance plastered over my face.
“Did you get the price?” She laughs. She realizes I know she is full of shit.
“Yes. It was, ‘you have spent enough.’”
She chuckles and loops her arm around my waist, pulling me out the door. I find it strange she has no qualms about affection, especially with someone she just met.
We shove the bags in the back of her SUV and move on to the department store, where she requests a couple salesmen to bring me everything under the sun to try on. I stay quiet, wearing only a scowl to show my displeasure at her sneaky tactics.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. I just don’t want this woman wasting her time and money on someone like me. There are other people who deserve her kindness.
Anniston sits on the couch right outside the dressing room, playing a game on her phone. Well, I assume it’s a game because she swears and bangs the phone down every few seconds. She demands I show her each outfit and confirms with the associate which ones we’ll be purchasing.
