by Shandi Boyes
With the biggest smile I’ve seen the past almost three months, Emily replies, “I’ll do it.”
When I empty Noah’s water jug, Dr. Miller makes an excuse to leave. She’s a stickler for protocol, so she’d never use a piece of hospital equipment for anything other than its intended use.
After checking the coast is clear, Emily dips her hands into the water jug, then scrubs them over the scruff on Noah’s jaw. Once she has a good amount of foam, her focus shifts to the razor. I probably shouldn’t grimace with every stroke she makes, but I didn’t think this through. She has a very sharp razor right near Noah’s jugular.
“Stop staring; you're making me nervous.”
“Don’t worry about me; watch what you're doing!”
She thrusts the disposable razor my way. “Do you want to do it?”
I shake my head, mortified she'd even ask.
“Then shut up!” My chuckle nearly drowns out what she says next, “I’ve done this before, you know.”
When my brows shoot up my face, as if to say, do tell, she murmurs, “After my surprise birthday party, Noah let me shave him at the hotel.” She smiles like she’s recalling a fond memory.
I can only hope it isn’t the only one she has today.
Later that afternoon, after Emily reluctantly left for the appointment I scheduled earlier, and I’ve finished sending Lola a text, Dr. Miller arrives for another physio session with Noah. She’s quieter today than she’s been the past two weeks, and her ring finger is missing the diamond solitaire ring she spins a minimum of a three dozen times every thirty minutes.
She has many obsessive-compulsive behaviors, such us, spinning her engagement ring any time she mentions her husband, using antibacterial solution like it’s lotion, and tucking her hair behind her ear when you stare at her too long. I may now stare at her for prolonged periods just to freak her out.
What? I’m bored. Nothing is entertaining about sitting in a hospital room all day.
Once her session with Noah is over, my curiosity gets the better of me. “Why aren’t you wearing your wedding ring today?”
She talks fondly of her husband, so I’m somewhat surprised she’s no longer wearing them.
“I thought it was time to remove them.” Her face pales when her attempt to spin her missing engagement ring around her finger is thwarted by an empty hand. “My husband died last year. He had thyroid cancer. We tried every treatment recommended by his doctors, but nothing worked. I became his nurse in the last few months. The pain of watching the man I love fade into a man I no longer recognized was harder than I ever anticipated. Noah is my first patient since his death.”
Tears well in her eyes when she shifts them back to Noah. “I forgot how hard this was. I thought it wouldn’t bother me as much because the person in a coma was a stranger.” Tears splash down her cheeks when she shakes her head. “I was wrong. This is just as painful. I may not know Noah, but I understand his pain.” She grips Noah’s hand before lowering her lips to his ear. “Be the man Emily wants you to be. Fight for her; make yourself the man she has always wanted.”
When I draw her to my chest, her tears soak my shirt. Unfortunately, her devastation doesn’t lower the volume of her next confession. “I’m so sorry about the baby. No one should lose a child. Not even one who isn’t born yet—”
Dr. Miller's second sentence is interrupted by Noah's heart rate triggering an alarm, a horn blaring down the corridor to advise there’s a code blue in Room 34. As Dr. Miller races to hit a big red button above Noah's bed, I move to his bedside. His eyes are rapidly moving under his eyelids, and his fists are clenched.
“We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want to hinder your recovery.” When my confession coincides with Noah’s heart rate monitor announcing he’s flatlining, my anger gets the better of me. “You said he could hear us, so why the fuck would you say that?! This is your fault. If he dies, it’s on your shoulders."
My angry outburst startles Dr. Miller so much, she mouths a silent apology before running out of the room. I feel terrible for what I said, but my focus has to remain on Noah. I told Emily he’d be fine. This isn’t fine.
“Hold on; help is coming. I need you to fight, Noah. You have to fight.”
As nurses frantically gather supplies, Emily arrives out of nowhere to grab Noah’s other hand. I’ve barely gotten over the shock of her sudden arrival when a doctor in scrubs yanks on my shoulder. “Move back.”
When I step back, she drops down Noah’s bed so it lies flat before she requests for Emily to move so they can wheel a defibrillator close to Noah’s bed. I jump into action before she can voice the denial I see in her eyes.
“Noah!” She thrashes and kicks against my hold when I drag her away from him. “Please, Noah, fight!”
“Charge. Fully charged. Stand back. Clear!”
When they zap Noah with the defibrillator, I close my eyes. The image of his back bending as he’s zapped with a massive bolt of electricity is too much for me to bear. This is bullshit. He just started living again, so why the fuck is his life being cut so short? He deserves more than two years of happiness after the many years of grief he endured.
“Still no cardiac output.”
“Charge again.”
This shock is enough to buckle Emily’s knees. I barely catch her before she tumbles to the floor. After pulling her close to my chest, I beg and beg and beg for Noah to be given another chance, for God not to be so fucking cruel. I even promise never to do anything remotely illegal again if I can just hear the faintest beep on Noah's heart monitor.
Twenty seconds later, when I’m on the brink of cracking, the beep I’ve been praying for pulsates through my ears.
It’s followed by another.
And another.
And another until I feel confident enough to open my eyes.
I see a face I wasn’t expecting to see. It isn’t the weeping face of Emily. It’s Noah’s doctor, Dr. Fitzpatrick. He looks as bewildered as me.
“What happened?”
He shrugs. “I have no clue. Patients usually go into cardiac arrest before they’re comatose, not after.” He lowers his eyes to Emily. “I'll have a cardiac specialist come check on him. He’ll assess if the lack of oxygen caused any damage to his brain, but I doubt that has occurred. Going into sudden arrest here significantly lowered the chances of his brain being without oxygen long enough to cause permanent damage.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Nodding, Dr. Fitzpatrick makes his way back to Noah’s bedside.
“He just scared the fucking shit out of me.”
Emily tightens her grip around my waist before murmuring, “Me too.”
Chapter Fifty
Jacob
I spot Lola the instant she enters the room. It wouldn’t have mattered how crowded it is, I’d locate her no matter what. She’s too breathtaking to miss. I called her after Noah went into cardiac arrest, and she promised she'd come straight to the hospital. Although that was forty minutes ago, the trip from Erkinsvale to Ravenshoe is a bitch at this time of the day. Commuter traffic is at its peak, and don't get me started on the increase in tourists since news of Noah's hospital admission was broadcast across the country. Fans line the sidewalks of the hospital as far as the eye can see.
I stalk Lola from a distance when she makes her way to Emily. Seeing them side by side reveals how similar they look but how differently they’re treated. Emily’s gazes are full of admiration and respect. Lola’s are not. I’d do something about it, but I lose the chance when she catches me watching her.
With a smile bright enough to illuminate hell, she saunters my way. The swing of her hips gains the attention of my cock, but the fire in her eyes utterly seizes it. I’ve still got a chance—I’m certain of it.
Her sexy scent engulfs me when she bands her arms around my shoulders to give me a quick hug. Pretending we don’t have the eyes of a dozen people gawking at us, I draw her into my chest. Her breaths heat my neck
when she laughs about her feet leaving the ground. “Miss me?”
“More than you’ll ever know.”
Before she can respond, a voice breaks through my pulse thumping through my ears. “What, no love for me?”
My brows furrow when Lola climbs down to hug my father like he’s a long-time friend. “Don’t be jealous, Tom. There’s plenty of Lola to go around.”
Lola notices my confusion, but instead of elevating it, she winks before prancing to her mom, who’s sitting on the reclining chair next to Noah’s bed. Once she’s out of earshot, I devote all my attention to my dad. “How the hell do you know Lola?”
His eyes sparkle with respect as his lips curve high. “I met her a few weeks ago. I like that girl, Jacob.”
He walks over to offer an introduction to Lola’s mom, missing my mumbled, “You’re not the only one.”
With Noah’s room bursting at the seam with visitors, I don’t get the chance to talk to Lola before she announces she has to return to work. Our hug goodbye gains us another prolonged gawk, but only one man is brave enough to bring it up when Lola slips into the elevator at the end of the corridor.
“What’s the deal with you two?”
I wait for the elevator doors to snap shut before dragging my eyes to Slater. I'm prepared to shrug, genuinely unsure how to explain our relationship, but he sees something in my eyes before I can.
"Oh, man, you're screwed. Out of all the women in the world, you had to fall for that one.”
My nostrils flare as anger bubbles in my veins. “What the fuck does that mean?”
When I step up to him, so we're standing chest to chest, he holds his hands in the air, signaling for me to stand down. “Jesus, Jakeyboy, calm down. I meant she’ll keep you on your toes." My growl rumbles through both our chests. "In a good way, man. Fuck.” He chuckles. Idiot. I’m five seconds from ripping his nuts off, and he’s laughing. “You’ve got it bad. Does she feel the same way?”
“I have no fucking clue. She’s barely spoken a word to me since you fucked everything up.”
He balks. “Me? What the fuck did I do?”
I backhand him in the chest. “Did you have to put up every photo of the bachelor party on Facebook? You couldn’t have kept some private?”
He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I don’t know how that shit works. I just hit the button thingy, and voomp, every photo on my phone was available for the world to see.” He makes a face, as if he too is facing backlash from his stupidity. “Why does it matter, anyway? Is your dick getting served to you on a stick?”
"Yeah, something like that.”
When he laughs so loudly, everyone in the room’s eyes snap to us, I usher him outside. The last thing I want is for my dad to hear about the rumors that may be circulating about me.
“It was a bachelor party, man; strippers are a requirement.”
“Not when your girl sees another removing your pants.”
Slater’s pupils dilate as he swallows bleakly. “Are you talking about Nat?”
“I don’t remember her name, but if she’s the blonde in the photos with me, then yeah, I’m talking about Nat.”
He stomps from foot to foot like he just won the lotto. “You didn’t sleep with Nat. You didn’t even touch her.”
“I didn’t?”
“Nah. You pissed her off by calling her Lola all night; then when she wanted to sample your sausage, you shut her down like she had the clap. That lost you any chance of tapping her ass. You missed out, man; she sucks like a fucking Hoover.”
My heart beats triple time. “I didn’t do anything with her? Nothing at all?”
“She hung off you like a leech, but you didn’t touch her.”
"Are you sure?" I triple double-check.
He marks an X on his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die, you didn’t touch her.”
I take off down the hall so fast, my shoes fail to gain traction the first hundred feet. My heart thrashes against my ribs as efficiently as I jab the elevator button. When it displays the car is still in the lobby, I throw open the emergency exit stairwell to begin my sixteen-floor descent.
With adrenaline fueling my pace, I make it to the lobby in record-setting time. I’m panting hard; my lungs are burning from a lack of oxygen, and my body is covered with a fine layer of sweat, but I made it.
When a quick scan of my surroundings fails to find Lola, I dart for the multistory parking garage outside, praying she hasn’t left yet. My prayers are answered when I find Lola jabbing her keys into the driver’s side door of her Jeep. “Lola!”
She pivots around to face me; panic is all over her face. She thinks I’m chasing her down for Noah. I’m not. I’m here for one thing and one thing only: her.
“Is everythi—”
Her words are cut off by me grabbing the back of her head to pull her delicious mouth to mine. She stiffens for a second before her lips part at the request of my lashing tongue. I kiss her with everything I have, a blinding embrace of tongue, lips, and hands.
I'm not the only one getting carried away. Lola is so swept away by our embrace, after curling her legs around my waist, she grinds down on my stiffened shaft, not the least bit worried that we're being indecent in public—again.
When I crowd her against her car, she moans into my mouth. The millimeter of air between us is too much. I need her closer. Firmer. Beneath me. It’s been months since I’ve had sex, but abstinence isn't the reason I'm seconds from blowing my load in my pants. It's her. Lola. The woman whose killer legs stole the land from beneath my feet before her picture-perfect face utterly annihilated me.
I pull away from Lola’s tasty mouth when I hear someone chuckling. Turning toward the noise, I spot Slater sitting on his motorbike with his tattooed arms folded in front of his chest. He gives a quick nod, pleased he killed my mojo before he kicks over his bike and darts for the exit.
Once the rumble of his Harley becomes a hum, I return my attention to Lola. Her eyes are brimming with so much lust, it's the fight of my life not to reacquaint our lips. I would have if I hadn't promised to keep illegal activities on the down-low only two hours ago.
Kissing isn't illegal...unless you’re kissing a girl with lips as sinful as Lola's.
Chapter Fifty-One
Lola
“Can I get fries with that shake?”
I continue for the cash register, ignoring Bill’s fifth attempt to flirt with me today. “If I hear that pathetic pickup line one more time today, I’ll charge you double.”
“Or I could take him outside and teach him some manners.”
With my heart pumping out a funky tune, my eyes rocket to the person defending me. I know that voice. I know it very well.
My intuition is proven spot on when my eyes land on Jacob. His elbows are propped onto the bar, and he’s shooting daggers at Bill. His hunched position has the cuffs on his shirt riding high on his thick biceps, exposing to Bill and his half a dozen friends that he’ll have no issues delivering the threat he just served.
Although his pledge of protection floods my nether regions with wetness, Bill is harmless. “That won’t be necessary; will it, Bill?”
When I hand Bill his change, he shakes his head before scampering back to the table he occupies a minimum three times a week. His footing is so unsteady, half the beer I just pulled for him lands on the floor. Mercifully, the peanut shells coating the battered wood mop up the mess on my behalf.
Once Bill’s friends join him, I shift my focus to Jacob. “What are you doing here?”
It’s been two weeks since we last kissed, so I pull his lips to mine by the scruff of his shirt. We kiss like drunken cheers aren’t floating around us, only stopping when Jacob murmurs two words I thought I’d never hear. “Noah’s awake.”
I inch back, my mouth tingling in both euphoria and annoyance. Excited by his confession. Annoyed his mouth is no longer on mine. “Really?”
He nibbles my lips, my chin, and my ear before murmuring, "Yes
."
With a squeal, I throw a tea towel in his face before hightailing it to Pete’s office. “Your car or mine?”
“Mine,” Jacob replies a mere second before I burst into Pete’s domain.
Halfway to Ravenshoe, my gaze shifts from the bright blue sky to Jacob. Since excitement has been clutching my throat the past thirty-five minutes, none of the millions of questions flooding my head has had a chance to be asked until now. “When did he wake up?”
After grasping my hand in his, Jacob pulls it over until it’s resting on his thigh. “Before dawn.”
Now his hand-holding makes sense. He thinks if he has at least one of them contained, he'll suffer fewer injuries.
Un-fucking-likely.
It’s near midday, so why am I only finding out now?
When I ask Jacob that, he says, “I wanted to tell you in person, then some shit went down with Noah, and I couldn’t get away as quickly as I would have liked.” He thrusts the hand originally wrapped around his steering wheel toward the bumper to bumper traffic in front of us. “Then this.” His remorse-filled eyes stray to mine. “Sorry. I should have just called.”
“No.” I wave off his worry like it’s a fly. “I like that you told me in person. It made it more special. Like I’m privileged or something.”
“You are privileged, Lola. Especially to me.”
I roll my eyes. I know people hate me, and I’m fine with that. I just somehow fooled Jacob into believing I’m a nice person. I’m sure his opinion would change if he ever discovers the thoughts I’ve had about him since he sexually tortured me against my car two weeks ago. Yes, it was torture, because I’ve suffered nothing but hours of distress since that afternoon.
You'd think discovering that Jacob didn't touch the stripper in the photos he was tagged in would arrive with a heap of relief. It did, but it was quickly overtaken by sexual frustration. First, Slater interrupted our hot and heavy make-out session, then Tom.
