Desperate Times (Silver Ridge Series Book 2)

by Emily Goodwin

  “Thank you again,” I tell him as I unwrap my taco. “You took good care of me.”

  “I’ll always take good care of you, I promise. Having you in my life…it’s all I ever wanted.” He looks in my eyes and then away, but this time there’s isn’t any stress or fear like before.

  “It’s all I wanted too. I mean, a fulfilling career and self-acceptance were on my list too.”

  Sam smiles. “Do you have those things now? The fulfilling career is a given.”

  “Yes,” I say, covering my mouth with my arm to cough. “For the most part. I’m happy with who I am, though it took me a while to realize it doesn’t matter if other people aren’t.”

  “The way things work out,” Sam starts and looks away again, letting out a breath. “How so many years have passed yet here we are. Things haven’t always been easy, and not everything has worked out like I planned.” He locks eyes with me and my heart flutters. “Things feel right when we’re together and I…I…” He takes a second, inhaling deeply. As soon as he opens his mouth to continue talking, a noise comes from the front of the house.

  “Did you hear that?” I ask, setting my taco down.

  “Yeah.” Sam gets to his feet. “Stay here.”

  I don’t, of course, and follow behind Sam as he goes to the front door. It swings open right as we get into the foyer.

  “Dad!” I exclaim, and Balloon squirms out of his arms, running over. “You scared me!”

  Wendy steps in behind him and closes the door. “I told you we should have called.”

  “Gotcha,” Dad says and crosses the foyer, wrapping me in a hug. “And I didn’t intend on scaring you, honey.”

  “It’s okay. What are you guys doing here?”

  “We were worried,” Wendy tells me, coming in for a hug now that Dad stepped back. “You poor dear. How are you feeling?”

  “Tired,” I say honestly. “I’m very much looking forward to getting back to Chicago tonight and sleeping for more than like an hour before someone wakes me up.”

  “You have to go?” Wendy pats my back before letting me go.

  “Yeah. Sam has to work, and my computer is at his place. I need to get back to writing or I won’t meet my deadline.” The thought causes a bit of panic to rise inside me, but at the same time I know I’ll still procrastinate. I haven’t missed a deadline yet, and that enables me to put things off until the last minute where I’m crying at three AM because I’m so tired yet can’t sleep until I get my book done. Someday I’ll learn…but today is not that day. “We were going to leave soon, so I’m glad you came home now. How’s your sister?”

  “Crazy,” Dad huffs and Wendy gives him a glare.

  “She’s having a hard time. Not so much over the divorce but over not knowing what to do with her life now. Fingers crossed she doesn’t go off the deep end again.” She looks at Sam and smiles.

  “Hi,” Sam says, and it hits me that they haven’t formally met. “I’m Sam.”

  “I figured as much.” She looks at Dad. “You’re right, he is handsome.”

  “I only tell the truth,” Dad replies.

  “It’s nice to meet you in person,” Wendy says. “And we are both so glad you were here to take such good care of Chloe.”

  “Of course,” Sam says as he slips his arm around my waist.

  “Sam’s a doctor.” I look at him proudly. “He’s good at taking care of people.”

  “I enjoy taking care of you much more than my other patients,” he tells me, and I blush just a little. I know he didn’t mean it sexually, but dammit, that’s just where my mind goes.

  “I’m glad,” I say back.

  “You kids got dinner?” Dad asks and opens the front door again to get two suitcases off the porch.

  “Yeah, tacos,” I say. “If you didn’t try and be all sneaky, I would have gotten one for you guys too.”

  “We ate on the way,” Wendy tells us, and we all go into the kitchen. “You go ahead and eat. You got a long drive ahead of you.”

  “It’s not too bad until we get into the city,” Sam says as we sit down. It’s normal for me to go a while without seeing my dad, but having him here right now is making me so happy.

  “What area of medicine are you in?” Wendy asks Sam.

  “I’m an anesthesiologist at a level-one trauma center in Chicago,” he tells her.

  “Oh wow, you probably see some terrible things.”

  Sam nods, having just taken a bite of his food. “Every day,” he goes on when he’s done chewing. “I know what I signed up for when I took the job, and there’s rarely a dull moment.”

  “I can only imagine.” Wendy shakes her head and leans forward. “Your brother is our vet. I see the resemblance now.”

  “That was random,” Dad teases.

  “I’m sorry,” Wendy laughs. “I knew you were related but didn’t think about it until just now. You two have the same eyes.”

  “Sam is much better looking,” I say, and Sam laughs.

  “I agree.” Sam gives me a wink, and Dad asks him about work while Wendy begs me for spoilers for my next book. I’m not sworn to secrecy. I can talk about it with my family and closest friends, who would be Farisha, Charles, and now Sam. But I’m always hesitant to give anything away because someone’s reaction could easily make me second-guess myself more than I already do.

  Forty-five minutes later, I’m feeling even more worn out and my cheeks are hot. I better not have another fucking fever. Finally, we get our bags in Sam’s BMW and start the drive to Chicago.

  “I’m, uh, sorry you didn’t walk along the trails.” Sam looks away from the road for a second.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Do you want to stop at the picnic shelter?”

  “Now?” I reach forward and adjust the setting of my heated seat. “No, it’s fine.”

  “You sure? We could?”

  Again, he’s leaving me a little confused. Is he trying to be nice? Maybe he feels bad for me for missing out on it this weekend?

  “It’s okay. We’ll come back. I’m honestly really tired. I want to stay up and keep you entertained, but I’m not sure if I can.”

  Smiling, he looks at me once more, resting his hand on my thigh. I put my hand over his and rest my head against the leather headrest, knowing I won’t be awake for much longer.

  “I can help,” I mumble, going around to the back of the car to get my bag.

  “It’s fine, babe, I’ve got it.” Sam grabs both bags before I have a chance to get mine and closes the door. We just parked in Chicago, and are trudging up to his apartment. We got stuck in traffic due to a turned-over semi on the way into the city, and it’s now after eleven. I’m pooped and my poor Sam has to be just exhausted.

  The lobby of his swanky apartment complex is quiet at this hour on a Monday, we neither of us speak as we wait to go up to his floor.

  “You should take Advil tonight,” Sam tells me as we strip out of our clothes. I need to shower but I’m so fucking tired. “To make sure you don’t spike a fever overnight.”

  “Okay.” I pull my t-shirt over my head and follow him into the bathroom. He gets in the shower while I brush my teeth, and if I wasn’t half asleep, tonight would be more significant.

  It’s the first time we’re together yet not having crazy wake-the-neighbors sex. This moment is a turning point in new relationships. It either indicates a level of comfort or indicates that the spark has fizzled out, and I know the latter is not the case.

  Once my teeth are brushed, I’ve forced down more medicine, and I plug my phone into the charger, I fall into bed and am almost asleep when Sam gets in next to me. He’s naked, and his skin is still hot from the shower.

  “I love you,” I say sleepily.

  “I love you too, Chloe.” He takes me in his arms and spoons his body around mine. “More than you’ll ever know.”

  His words, again, feel like a farewell, and I try to contemplate them but end up falling asleep. I wake up around three am bec
ause I have to pee and realize Sam isn’t in bed next to me anymore. I use the bathroom and then go into the living room, finding him leaning against the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the city below.

  “Sam?” I call softly, and he jerks away, startled.

  “Hey, you’re up.”

  “So are you. What are you doing?” I went to bed in just panties and a thin tank top, and I’m cold. Sam put on pajama pants and looks comfortable against the window.

  “I woke up and…and I, uh, couldn’t fall back asleep.”

  “Come to bed,” I tell him. “You have to get up soon. I’ll rub your back until you fall asleep.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to.” I hold out my hand, and Sam pushes away from the window. I intertwine our fingers and bring him back into bed, covering us both up with the blankets. I snuggle up with Sam and run my fingers up and down his back. My intentions are to help him fall asleep, but I pass out first, and the next time I wake up, it’s nearing six AM and Sam is in the kitchen. I can hear CNN on in the background and the sound of dishes clanking against the granite counters.

  Throat sore, I want to get up and get a drink, but I’m tired and overall just not a morning person. I try to hold my eyes open, but they close on their own accord, and the next thing I know, Sam is back in the bedroom, opening up a dresser drawer to get socks.

  “Hey,” I grumble, forcing myself up. “Do you have to go to work now?”

  “I got a few minutes.”

  He’s wearing black dress pants and a button-up shirt and looks fine as fuck.

  “Come back to bed?” I ask and pull the covers back, inviting him next to me.

  “For a minute.” He puts his socks on the dresser and crosses the room, getting back in bed with me.

  “I don’t want you to leave,” I sigh, wrapping my legs around him.

  “I don’t want to leave either.”

  “I can have lunch with you today,” I tell him.

  “It’s fine, babe. You still want to fly back to LA late tonight, don’t you?”

  “I have to.”

  “Stay here and rest. You need it, especially before you start traveling again.”

  “Okay. I’ll miss you,” I tell him.

  “I’m going to miss you too,” he says, voice thick with emotion. He runs his hand up my neck and takes a fistful of hair, pulling my head back so he can kiss me. His tongue slips past my lips and he moves on top of me, pinning me between his firm body and the mattress.

  “I fucking love you, Chloe,” he breathes between kisses. Desire for him burns hot between my legs, and his big cock hardens against me. I widen my legs, welcoming him between, and reach down, blindly feeling for his belt. Knowing we don’t have much time, it’s a mad scramble to remove each other’s clothing, and Sam kisses me while he pushes his cock into my entrance.

  “Mmmmm,” I groan, raking my hands up his back. He moves his lips to my neck, kissing and sucking hard.

  “I love you,” he pants, pushing his cock inside me balls deep. I angle my hips up, coming just moments after he hits me at a new angle. He puts his lips to mine again as he finishes, cock pulsing inside of me. I’m too swept up in the moment to remember I haven’t taken my birth control for the last few days.

  “I…I love you too,” I breathe, pussy still spasming around his big dick.

  “I do, Chloe.” He holds himself up above me, breathing hard as he looks into my eyes. “So fucking much, and nothing will change that.”

  “Okay,” I pant, not sure what else to say. He’s acting weird again, and I’m not sure if I should be concerned. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “I have to, but I’ll be back. Take it easy today.”

  “I will. And if you have extra time for lunch, let me know and I’ll meet you.” I rake my fingers down his back. He’s still wearing his button-up shirt and it’s probably all wrinkly now. “In your car for more dirty back-seat sex.”

  “I’m going to be thinking about that all day.”

  “Good.”

  He kisses me and then forces himself up, moving off me and getting dressed again. I use the bathroom and then walk him to the door, missing him the instant he’s gone. I pull the down comforter off the bed and go onto the couch, curling up and turning the TV on. I know I’m not going to stay awake, and only make it through fifteen minutes of a show before I pass back out, sleeping for a good three hours.

  I wake up all sweaty. I panic for a minute that I’m sick again, which means I’d have to cancel my flight because I refuse to be that asshole who gets on a plane with a fever, and then realize I’m directly under a heat duct and I’ve basically swaddled myself in a thick, down comforter. Bright sunlight streams through the big windows as well, warming the entire room.

  Getting up, I check for texts from Sam—he sent me two simply telling me he loves and misses me—and then take a shower. I really do need to work today, and if I can’t focus to write then I at the very least need to do some social media catching up. Rebecca manages my Facebook reader group, keeping everyone active. I post a quick update and then go into my extensive meme collection, finding something funny to post later in the day. I get it all scheduled, reply to a handful of comments and questions, and then switch over to Instagram.

  There’s no way I’m going to keep up with the amount of messages I received in reply to my last video of me in the hospital. I spend twenty minutes replying and then force myself up and into the shower. I twist my wet hair up into a towel and go back into the kitchen, finding a note from Sam next to the coffee pot.

  Chloe-

  I love you so much. Take care of yourself so I can destroy you later ;-)

  -Sam

  PS. Take Tylenol when you get up and Advil four hours later. Drink lots of fluids, don’t forget to eat, and sleep when you’re tired.

  I’m smiling ear to ear as I reread it, and I’m still smiling as I fill a mug with coffee. I take it into the living room and open my computer. I don’t have the energy to actually write, but I can go through the notes Lupe sent me back on the first few chapters of the book. I spend an hour working on that and then get tired. I don’t want to lie when Sam comes home tonight and asks if I took it easy, so I close the computer and lay down on the couch, napping for nearly an hour before my phone rings, waking me up. It’s Sam, and I’m smiling again at just the sight of his name.

  “Hey,” I say, voice hoarse.

  “Did I wake you up?”

  “Yeah, but it’s okay. I need to get up anyway.” I sit up and inhale without coughing for the first time since I got sick. “How’s work?”

  “It was a rough morning, but things are good now.”

  “I’m so sorry, Sam, but I’m glad it’s good now.”

  “Yeah…taking a patient off a ventilator is never easy. Several organs were able to be donated at least.”

  “Oh my god, that’s…that’s tragic.”

  “It will help someone. More than one person, in this sense.”

  “True.” I sit up, sweaty again from being all bundled.

  “Are you working or resting today?”

  “A little bit of both,” I tell him. “Keeping up with social media is a full-time job on its own. Are you okay with me posting a photo of us?”

  “Instead of the sex tape?”

  “I don’t think Instagram will allow that,” I laugh.

  “Fine, in that case.”

  “You should start your own Instagram account,” I tell him, unwrapping myself even more so I can stretch my feet out on the coffee table. “You’re a hot doctor. You’ll get a lot of followers.”

  “Social media is not my thing.”

  “I know.” I’m smiling again. “And that’s what I love about you.”

  “I can’t wait to see you tonight,” he says. “I need to—fuck. I gotta go put someone on a ventilator.”

  “Ugh. I’m sorry?”

  “It’s work. I love you, Chloe.”

  “
I love you, too,” I say and then the call ends. I imagine Sam dramatically running through the halls of the hospital, total daytime TV medical drama style, to go hook his patient up to lifesaving breathing machines. I know it’s not that way in real life, especially because the more he runs, the less clothes he has on, and now I’m imagining him bursting through the apartment doors wearing nothing but scrub pants and a stethoscope hanging around his neck.

  I close my eyes and relish the thought, and then make myself get back to edits, approving little changes and addressing issues Lupe found. It’s nothing major, but when I take a full week to write something that can be read in under ten minutes, it’s easy to miss little things, and in this case, Kellie had her hair in a ponytail and then was nervously raking her fingers through it only a few paragraphs later.

  Once I finish edits on my first set of chapters, I send them off to Lupe and then go back to replying to a few dozen more social media comments and messages. Overall, I have a really awesome fanbase, and I love how most have taken my message of supporting and celebrating others to heart. There’s room for us all at the “winner’s table,” I like to say, and no one should feel shadowed by anyone else’s success.

  Then I go back through the few photos I have of Sam and me together, deciding on a photo from dinner when we double-dated with Sam’s friends Quinn and Archer. I post it on my Instagram and Facebook page with the caption “Still feeling under the weather but this guy makes everything better” along with three red hearts. I post it and put my phone down, forcing myself to wait a while before taking a peek at the comments.

  I get another email from Lupe with edits on the next few chapters, and this time there are some big changes to be made. Usually, when I edit like this, I’ll open her email full of notes on my desktop and then implement said changes into my document on my laptop. It’s just how it works for me, being able to look from one screen to the next.

  “Fuck,” I mumble, not wanting to get deep into edits when I’m out of my usual routine. I think for a minute and then text Sam, asking if I can use his computer so I can have my dual screens. He replies only a few minutes later, saying it’s fine. He gives me his password and I get his computer from a drawer in the entertainment center in the living room. I open my email and pull up Lupe’s document and get to work.