Alpha Mail

by Brenda Rothert

  “I . . . can’t,” Jack says as he tries to grab the spoon in the bowl of dough to stir it.

  “Want some help?” I offer.

  He nods, looking deflated. It’s hard seeing him not be able to do things he used to have no trouble with. I help him get the spoon into his hand and stir the dough, and then we work together to shape the dough for baking.

  When our cookies are done, Jack takes several and sits in my lap to nibble on them. I close my eyes and soak in his sweet, warm presence. Eventually, we both fall asleep coated in cookie crumbs.

  The next day is Saturday—date night with Ryan. And even though I’m pretty sure he still won’t give in and ravage me all night long, I’m hoping to at least get in a long make-out session.

  It’s fall now, so I wear black leather leggings with strappy black booties and a slinky little purple top. If Ryan won’t fuck me senseless just yet, might as well try to drive him crazy anyway.

  I get a hungry once-over from him, and an approving nod, when he picks me up. Once we’re inside his truck, he puts his hand on my thigh and gives a low groan.

  “Leather,” he says in a low tone. “Damn, Sienna.”

  “If you think the leather feels good, wait till you feel what’s beneath it.”

  Ryan inhales deeply, gathering himself, and then turns to me, cupping my cheek and drawing us together for a kiss. His mouth is warm and demanding, the scrape of his stubble against my lips making me moan softly.

  He pulls back slightly. “I want you, but that’s nothing new for me. I’ve wanted you for ten fucking years, Pup. And you wanting me back feels so damn amazing. But we’re waiting until I know you’re ready for it.”

  I arch a brow, amused. “Don’t I get to decide when I’m ready for it?”

  “No. You have no idea what you’re in for. You think you can have a casual night of sex with a two-hundred-pound man who’s deeply in love and sexually starved? Who takes out all those frustrations in the gym? You’ll never be the same after our first time, and I won’t be either.”

  Desire ripples down my spine, heating my core and leaving me breathless. Ryan Lennox has never been all talk. I feel the intensity and sincerity of his words down to my bones.

  “When . . .” My voice breaks nervously, and I clear my throat. “Um . . . when do you think I might be ready, then?”

  His lips curve up in a small smile. “Soon. But not tonight.”

  I have a sudden longing I can’t help blurting out. “Tell me you love me, Ryan.”

  He holds my gaze and says, “I love you. Always have and always will, babe.”

  My stomach flutters with nervous excitement. There’s nothing like his dark chocolate eyes on me as he says the words that have come to mean everything to me.

  Ryan loves me. I’m falling hard for him. And there’s no reason to rush. It’s actually kind of beautiful to savor this part.

  We start our evening at Lucky Seven. I’ve spent many hours at this bar with Coop and Ryan, but that was before RoughRider rode into my life. I like how it feels to walk in with him holding my hand.

  Coop is actually here tonight, and he gives our linked hands a long look before grinning and inviting us to sit down. When he hugs me, he murmurs, “He treating you okay?” in my ear, and I tell him yes.

  “How’s Jack doing?” Coop asks me, his expression solemn.

  “As expected. He’s having trouble with motor skills and memory. It’s heartbreaking.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “Maybe come by and see him. He’d like that.”

  Coop nods. “I will. I’d like that too.”

  “I guess you and Carmen can work it out since you have each other’s numbers and all.” I give him a knowing look.

  He looks like the cat that swallowed the canary as he says, “I guess we can.”

  Ryan gives me a questioning look, and I silently tell him I’ll explain later.

  “You guys want to get pizza?” Coop asks. “I’m starving.”

  “Yeah.” I look at Ryan. “Yeah? Is that good with you?”

  “I was planning to just grab a drink here and take you somewhere nicer for dinner, but if you’re okay with pizza, I’m good with it.”

  I snuggle against his side. “I’m good with pizza. Let’s stay.”

  “I see who’s running this relationship,” Coop says with a laugh.

  “We’re co-running it.” I frown at him.

  “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

  “Outside the bedroom, she can run anything she wants,” Ryan says.

  Coop’s amused grin disappears. “Let’s not go there. That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

  We order a pitcher of beer and two large pizzas, catching up as we wait for the food. It feels so good—like old times, but better. As we tell funny stories from childhood, I think about something Ryan said to me recently. No man will ever know me like he does. He’s right. And no woman could ever know him like I do. That added intimacy makes me want him—all of him—even more.

  I keep my hand on Ryan’s leg beneath the table, enjoying the effect I can have on him. When I slide my palm higher, I get a sharp intake of breath and a tightening of his muscles. I can feel him relax as I move my hand lower, and then I slowly repeat the process.

  Our pizzas are delivered, and we’re about to start eating when my phone rings from inside my purse. When I look at the screen and see Carmen’s name, my heart hammers nervously.

  “Carmen?”

  There’s a couple seconds of silence before she says, “Sienna, I need you.”

  Her voice is strained with emotion. I stand up from my chair and say, “Where?”

  “CMC. We’re on the way to the ER. Jack’s having a seizure.”

  I grab on to Ryan’s arm for support. “I’m on my way.”

  Ryan’s standing now too. “Jack?”

  I nod, my breathing shallow as I process what’s happening. “I need to get to the CMC ER. Right now.”

  “Let’s go.” Ryan takes my hand.

  Coop throws some bills onto our table and runs after us.

  It’s been the longest three hours of my life. I’m sitting in the Chicago Medical Center ER waiting area, elbows on my knees, looking at the ground. Ryan’s beside me, his arm around my shoulders. Coop is on the other side, switching between pacing nervously and sulking in his chair.

  I’m not family, the receptionist said, so I’m not allowed inside. It felt like a slap in the face, because Carmen and Jack are family in my heart, and she has no one else. I’m crying slow, silent tears that drip onto the worn linoleum floor at my feet, not only for Jack, but for Carmen, who is probably out of her mind with worry and helplessness.

  “I have to keep it together for her,” I murmur, turning my face just slightly toward Ryan.

  “You will.” He runs his hand down to my back and pulls me against him. “You can come apart later, with me.”

  I reach for his free hand and squeeze it in mine, another silent tear sliding down my cheek.

  “There she is,” Coop says, bounding out of his chair.

  I sit up and see Carmen approaching us, her eyes raw and swollen. I can’t get to her fast enough.

  Coop beats me, folding her into his arms, where she cries harder than I’ve ever seen her cry. He closes his eyes and rests his cheek on top of her head, his expression more wrecked than I’ve ever seen it.

  Finally, she pulls away, giving Coop a sad smile as she wipes her cheeks.

  “He’s stable,” she says, looking from Coop to me.

  Ryan’s behind me now, his hands on my shoulders.

  I reach for Carmen’s hand, questions pouring out of me. “Will he be okay? Is he in pain? Can I come back there with you and see him?”

  She squares her shoulders. “This is part of the progression of Batten’s. The doctors won’t know how much it affected his brain until some more testing is done. He’s not in pain. They’ve taken really good care of him. We’re staying tonight, and y
ou can come back with me now.”

  “Can I stay too?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know . . . I’ll ask. But you don’t have to.”

  “I want to.”

  “I know.” Her eyes flood with grateful tears. “But I won’t be able to sleep at all tonight, and it’s going to catch up with me eventually. If I have to sleep, I want to know you’re with him. So can you try to sleep tonight?”

  “Of course. Anything you need.”

  Her tears spill over then, and I reach for her, hugging her tightly. I wish I had words that would comfort her, but I don’t. This is the ugly reality of Jack’s disease, and there’s no soothing the heart of a mother watching her child suffer.

  All I can do is be here, and I will. For every brutal, crushing step of the way, I’ll be here.

  #nohedidnt

  I SCAN THE sidelines, warming when my gaze lands on Ryan’s broad shoulders. He’s wearing a gray polo and blue baseball hat tonight, talking into his headset.

  It’s been a hell of a week, and just seeing Ryan grounds me. When Jack woke up at the hospital, he was still himself, which left me so relieved I went into the bathroom and cried for five minutes.

  But in the days after that, Carmen and I realized that while the seizure didn’t give him long-term physical or mental damage, it absolutely did change him. He’s scared now, the memory of the seizure and its aftermath haunting him. After Carmen and a pediatrician told him what’s happening with the progression of his disease, the light went out of him.

  This is what Carmen wanted to put off as long as possible. Jack knows he’s only going to get worse from here. His dream of playing with the neighborhood kids seems insignificant compared to his new dream of surviving.

  We’ve got a system now. I’ve been working from home and taking care of Jack during the day, with the help of a home health nurse, while Carmen sleeps for a few hours. She seems to feel guilty every time she sleeps. She sits with Jack at night, reading to him and watching him sleep, keeping vigil in case he has another seizure.

  Next week, we’re changing our routine. I hired a second nurse to monitor Jack overnight. I hope it will help Carmen sleep at night, so she can be with Jack during the day, with help from the other nurse.

  We hadn’t been out of the house all week, and Jack wanted to come to Ryan’s game like we’d planned. Carmen immediately said yes, because Jack hasn’t asked for much since coming home from the hospital.

  So here we are, bundled in blankets, dressed in blue, cheering on Ryan’s team. None of us knows a lot about football, but we know how to join in when the home team is cheering.

  “I’m glad we came,” I say to Carmen over Jack’s head during a semiquiet moment.

  “Me too.”

  Jack is snuggled between us, sipping hot chocolate and watching the game intently. I’m trying to watch the game, but I keep finding myself distracted by Ryan. I like seeing him standing on the sidelines, watching and directing his players. The other team’s coach is waving his arms all over the place, yelling and looking like a heart attack about to happen. Ryan is cool, collected, and focused.

  The game is tied 7–7 when one of Ryan’s players intercepts the ball. I’m cheering along with everyone else as he runs, when suddenly Jack jumps up off the bleachers.

  He’s making a frustrated sound that’s not quite a word, over and over. Tears are streaming down his cheeks. Carmen and I both see the reason at the same time—he spilled the huge cup of hot chocolate all over his lap, and he’s soaking wet.

  “It’s okay, baby,” Carmen says.

  Jack wails louder—probably both frustrated that he dropped the cup and uncomfortable from the hot liquid on his skin.

  “I shouldn’t have gotten you that big cup.” Carmen’s trying to soothe Jack, and people are turning to look at us now.

  “Hey,” a woman in front of us says as she turns around. “Need a towel?”

  I take it and give her a grateful look. “Thank you so much.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’m sorry if any of that got on you,” I tell her, unfolding the towel and using it to dry Jack’s clothes off a little.

  She waves a hand. “I’m a mom. Stuff happens.” She gives Jack an encouraging smile. “You okay, buddy? I’ve got some juice boxes if you want one.”

  People are still looking at us, and Jack gives Carmen a pained look. He’s embarrassed, of course.

  “I think we should go,” Carmen murmurs.

  “Sure.” I start packing stuff up, and we all stand up to exit the row of bleachers.

  “Cup!” Jack cries, pointing at the abandoned Styrofoam cup on the ground.

  “It’s empty, sweets,” Carmen says.

  “Cup!”

  I bend down to get the cup and hand it to him, then return the towel to the woman in front of us and thank her again. I’m shuffling along next to Jack when I hear a deep bellow from behind us.

  “Hey, get that retarded kid out of here!”

  For one full second, I go still with shock. Now everyone in our section is either looking at us or at the balding, scowling guy in a blue T-shirt who yelled.

  Jack’s face is a deep shade of crimson, and so is Carmen’s. I know for sure it’s mortification on Jack’s part and red-hot anger on Carmen’s.

  “You guys go,” I say to Carmen when we get to the end of the row. “I’ll meet you in the car.”

  “Sienna, he’s not worth it.”

  “Just go,” I say in a level tone.

  My anger is of the white-hot variety. That asshole has no idea who he just crossed.

  As Carmen takes Jack’s hand and leads him down the concrete stadium stairs, I walk up them until I get to the row where the bearded man with a huge mouth is sitting. He gapes at me as if to say, “What?”

  “Pretty tough of you to mouth off to a six-year-old.” I hold his dark, beady-eyed gaze. “How about someone who’s not terminally ill and not afraid of you? You got anything to say to me?”

  He laughs. Laughs, and my blood boils.

  “Get the fuck out of here, Red. I’m tryin’ to watch the game.”

  “He’s a person.” My voice rises with emotion. “And you’re an insensitive jerk.”

  The woman next to him sneers, her eyes widening like I’m in for it now.

  “Okay, bitch, you want problems? You got ’em now.”

  The burly guy shuffles toward me, and all eyes are on us now. I refuse to move. If this fat lumberjack wants to fight me, I’m in. I don’t care if he kicks my ass. The look he put on Jack’s face has me ready to do battle.

  Before the man can get to me, another man nearby stands up and blocks his path.

  “Go sit down, Buck,” he says.

  “Oh, it’s Buck, is it?” I lean around the man in front of me. “How fitting. Bet you’ve got more guns than teeth, am I right?”

  The man turns around and gives me a wry smile. “Cool it, hotshot. Buck’s an asshole, but we’re in the middle of a high school football game.”

  A uniformed security guard shows up then, taking me by the arm and hauling me down the stadium stairs. I return every dirty look I get from onlookers. What kind of people just stand by and let someone treat a kid that way? I would have stood up whether it was Jack or a kid I didn’t even know.

  The game is in a time-out, and I find Ryan on the sidelines, gesturing at a clipboard and talking to several players. He looks up, sees me, and frowns.

  Oh God. I didn’t mean to interrupt his coaching. He passes off the clipboard to another coach and starts coming toward me.

  The security guard tightens his hold on my arm, probably enjoying the looks we’re getting as he drags me toward the stadium exit.

  “Get your hands off her.” Ryan’s voice reaches us before he does.

  The guard gives me a startled look, dropping his hand away.

  “What are you doing?” Ryan demands, giving the guard a challenging look.

  By his tone, it’s clear he’s pissed. I’m n
ot sure I’ve ever seen Ryan so angry.

  “She was causing a scene, Coach,” the guard says apologetically.

  Ryan looks at me, and I shrug unapologetically. “Some guy named Buck called Jack retarded.”

  The guard gives me a sheepish look. “I should probably make Buck leave too.”

  “You think?” Ryan’s tone is clipped. He turns to me. “Are you okay?”

  I nod. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Get back to your game. We can talk later.”

  “I’ll deal with Buck after the game.”

  My eyes widen with horror. “Ryan, don’t get yourself in trouble over this. This is your job.”

  He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. We’re not gonna tolerate that kind of behavior here.”

  I sigh softly. “I’m leaving because Jack spilled hot chocolate on himself, and . . . well, I got kicked out, so . . . yeah, I’m leaving.”

  “I’ll call you as soon as I can.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Love you.”

  I give him a grateful look. “Go win your game.”

  He smiles, then turns and jogs back to his team. And I realize that whether it’s been long enough or we’ve gotten to see enough of each other’s bad sides yet, I love him too. The same way he loves me—unequivocally.

  #dontletgo

  A YOUNG BLOND woman with a frazzled expression gives me a disapproving look the moment she spots me in the hallway of the New York Alpha Mail office.

  “Ma’am, if you aren’t an employee, you can’t be in this area.” She puts a foot in my path to stop me.

  Am I more aggravated that she stopped me so rudely, or that she called me ma’am? Too close to call.

  I smile, keeping my cool. “I’m pretty sure I’m authorized. I’m Sienna Mills.”

  “Oh.” She puts a hand over her eyes, her cheeks flushing. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. They’re hiring people so quickly here that I haven’t met everyone yet. I’ve been away for two weeks.”

  “Yeah, I just started Monday. I’m Tori.” She offers me a hand and I shake it.

  My smile is tighter this time. One of my pet peeves is people who only introduce themselves with their first name. I’m tired and stressed, though, so I brush it off.