When Opposites Collide Boxset

by Kathy Coopmans

  “I let men take whatever they wanted from me in order to get my hands on drugs. I begged them to let me do things to them that were morally wrong. To use me up and toss me right back on the streets. I didn’t care as long as I had those drugs in my hand when they were done. Is that the kind of woman you want in your house? In your office? Around a hospital where, if I slip, you might catch me on my hands and knees begging anyone to give me what I think I need?”

  I study his reaction intently. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t move an inch. He simply mocks my gaze. I feel his eyes on me everywhere. Naked and wide open in front of a man who could easily crush me if his opinion of me changed. I care about him. It frightens me to the thumping center of my chest.

  “I’m not an addict. I can’t begin to imagine what kind of life you’ve led, Amelia. As a man, as a doctor, I know for a fact that what you just told me wasn’t easy for you. You're going to slip, want to fall, and there will be days and nights when you will do everything you can to convince yourself that just one taste of the life you’ve left behind is all it will take to ease the pain. I can’t be with you twenty-four hours of the day to make sure that doesn’t happen. No one can. You have to trust me and trust yourself to take one day at a time. One hour, one minute if we have to. I’m never going to judge you or lie to you. I can get by without a full-time secretary until you feel you are ready. I can’t get by without you. I’m not asking you to move in with me and share my bed. I’m not. I’ll give you your own room, space, and time to move forward on your own.”

  Silence lingers between us, and I know I’m not done dropping everything on him. Not even close. Zeke is a protector, and when he finds out what started this tumble into hell, he’s liable to spit nails into the wall behind me. My fingers race up and down my thighs needing to be busy, using up the empty pit of energy. This is the hardest part to admit.

  “There’s more, Zeke. I wasn’t born an addict. It was never my life goal to be a whore begging for drugs. I had dreams and goals once. But it all ended when my stepdad and his son raped me on a nightly basis. My own mother turned the other way. They tore me apart, shattered my soul, and ripped my own beating heart out from my chest. I wanted it to stop. Something inside of me snapped, and I ran. Not once looking back. The streets became my home, because I had no money, no family, no friends to help me. I was a young woman with a roof over her head, food, and clothes. But my mind, my body, they weren’t my own. And then I realized in order to stay alive I had to think like the rats do. I had to eat garbage, beg, and steal. But my mind, it never stopped running away from them. They were there, chasing me in the dark, finding me in the light. I needed to be numb, so it all began one night with smoking weed; it escalated from there. Drugs did that for me and sex was the payment I gave them.” I pause gulping for oxygen to continue on.

  Zeke hasn’t flinched once during the whole story. He remains quiet and calm with an understanding stance that if I had to guess is what makes him such a good doctor. I mean, it’s obvious he’s good at what he does. Look at what he did for me. He saved my life.

  “I’m not ready to work in a hospital. That would be too much for me. I’m also not willing to be a charity case. Moving in with you and having everything handed to me would put me in a situation where it would all be too easy to fall back into old habits. I’m appreciative of everything. I wouldn’t be breathing if it weren’t for you. But this, I need to do on my own. Everyone has already done so much for me. I feel indebted up to my eyeballs.”

  I’m thankful Zeke immediately starts speaking after the bombshell I just dropped on him, since I really don’t think I can spill my guts out anymore. They’re churning and it hurts.

  “Well, your eyeballs are stunning.” He laughs, and I smile.

  “Seriously, Amelia. You are incredibly strong. I would never do anything to bring you harm. I’m a man of my word. A man who would never take anything that doesn’t belong to him.”

  My name slips from his tongue elegantly and smoothly, offering me comfort. That, too, is new to me. All of this is. There’s no judgment in his caring eyes. No void stare, no lies coming from his mouth. Just a friend who wants to help me. Except, if I'm honest with him, then I should be honest with myself as well. Zeke is becoming more than a friend to me, and that feeling of self-doubt, insecurity, and the fact I’m not good enough for him are winning the race. I’m finally coming full circle to being alive.

  39

  Zeke

  “Thank you. Thank you for being upfront and honest. I know it can’t be easy telling me all of that. You also need to understand that everyone on God’s green earth has their own skeletons in their closet. We all have monsters that haunt us.” I stop. My mind drifting to Clara. God, she would have loved Amelia and the strength behind her very existence. I’m speaking from experience here, and she seems to sense it. Today isn’t about me. It’s about her. “As far as paying me back. You need to get that shit out of your head right now. I’m not taking anything from you that you're not willing to give. I know the woman inside of you who’s screaming to get out. Let me guide her. The rest of the way is up to you.”

  My words must sink in somewhere as I watch her tense shoulders relax.

  “I still can’t move in and live off you. I need a purpose in life, something to keep me busy.” God. I adore her. The first woman I want to give everything to and she wants to earn it on her own. I knew she was special, unique. I just didn’t realize how much. Not until now.

  “Funny that you brought up charity case, because currently, I’m in the middle of juggling a huge fundraiser for a charity ball that’s scheduled to take place on November first. I’m also manning my department at the hospital and spending time with a good friend. Oh, I’m doing all of this without a secretary as well.” I shoot her a sly grin.

  She bursts out in laughter. It’s one of the most intoxicatingly beautiful laughs I’ve heard in my life. A woman who deserves everything, who hasn’t had a chance to live, should be laughing daily. Doing the things she enjoys. I know I’m putting pressure on her when that’s not my intention at all. With everything she’s been through, I have no doubt in my mind that Amelia can handle it. She’ll do what’s right for her, and to me, that’s all I want. No matter if my heart is begging that someday our friendship turns to more.

  “Are you trying to guilt trip me here, Zeke?” she says playfully.

  “Maybe.” I quirk up a brow. “Honestly, Amelia, let me lay it out like I should’ve when I busted in here. That’s on me, and I should’ve approached this differently. I was hoping it would come out during one of our basketball games.”

  “Oh, the ones where I kick your ass?” she interrupts. I’ll give her credit. She’s good. I’m better. That’s something I’ll keep to myself. Watching her smile whenever she sinks a ball is something I simply can’t resist.

  “Yes, those.” We both share a smile that tugs us even closer without moving. “I have a four-bedroom house in a suburb close to downtown LA. I spend the majority of time at work. There’s plenty of space for a roommate. I’d like you to move in with me. I need help organizing the charity ball. Actually, I need a shit ton of help. It would be equivalent to a full-time job. I can deduct rent from your salary. Offer you insurance. Vacations. It’s a job, Amelia. Nothing more. There will be no handouts if that’s what you chose. Your time will be occupied with work, leaving you plenty of time also to attend meetings and brush up on your basketball skills or whatever other hobby you’d like.” Her eyes go wide when I mention hobby. She’s holding something out on me. Something she loves to do.

  “Why me?” she asks, confusion tearing her down.

  The answer silently dances on my lips. I’ve had thousands of patients I’ve wanted to help. Some I have. None of them have knocked me square on my ass, or visit often in my dreams, pull me to them in the way she has.

  “Why not you? I’m offering you a job, a place to live. It’s the next stepping-stone to continue moving forward in your life. Peo
ple are brought into one another’s lives for a reason, Amelia. Some figure out that reason quickly; others don’t. I do know this; you are not a charity case. I haven’t done any of this out of pity. I just… I don’t know why. Maybe we can figure it out together.”

  “Can I have some time to think about it, Zeke?” she blurts out. Eyes as wide as saucers and biting her lip. God, that drives me insane. I would never take from her, not like those sick motherfuckers did. If anything happens between her and me, it will come from her. I’ll tamp everything down to make sure this woman gains back every ounce of confidence that has been stolen from her in the most brutal of ways. That includes finding these sick fucks and having them killed. Tortured. And them wishing to God they never laid a hand on her.

  I reach over, stopping the movement of her fingers tapping on her leg. It’s a friendly gesture with no promise of anything else. I want her to feel comfortable around me. Not nervous. There’s something about the way she turns up her hand, her palm resting flat underneath mine that jolts me backward.

  I’m not a sentimental guy. Never had anyone to be that way for. The words I’ve spoken to Amelia today came straight from my heart. But this, the current flowing through my body like a sizzling electrical wire about ready to start flying all over the place, it answers her question of ‘why her.' There’s a connection here. One that needs to be figured out.

  “Of course, I’ll never push you into anything. Think about it. See if it’s a right fit for you. And even if you don’t think it’s a good idea for you in this time of your life, always know I’m here for you wherever you are.”

  “Thank you, Zeke.” She stands. Our connection is gone instantly.

  “You’re welcome. Thank you, too, Amelia. For trusting me with something that had to be hard for you to relive.”

  She smiles tightly, walks to the door, while I remain sitting in this chair missing her already.

  “Have a good day, Amelia.”

  Son of a bitch. I had no idea how draining that conversation would be. Of course, my old tendencies of wanting to save the day busted right through. Watching Amelia as she told me everything wrecked me. I noticed she didn’t tell me about the abortion and the bullshit lie they told her about being sterile. Either she didn’t find it relevant, or it’s something she didn’t want to share. I can’t quite figure that one out. All I know for sure is, it was bad enough hearing what they did to her the first time when listening in on one of her sessions with Ronan, but sitting in front of her hearing the words tumble from her lips was so much worse. We are going to find them and send them straight to hell.

  Part of me wants to pound my chest knowing the fact she trusts me enough to tell me all of it. I can only hope she believed me when I said everyone has skeletons in their closet. I know mine is Goddamn full.

  “Can I have my office back, doctor?” Ronan walks in taking his seat behind his desk.

  Time to offer an apology. The lines of professionalism were crossed.

  “Ronan, sorry for bursting in and not talking to you first.”

  He picks up a ballpoint pen from his desk and begins twirling it. “Apology accepted. However, I’m not letting Amelia walk out of her without knowing more.”

  “Understood.” I nod then rest my elbows on the top of my legs. “I know the transition process can be the part where most patients have a relapse. I have space at my house and a job for her.”

  “And your intentions?”

  All my anger from what those bastards did to her boils over. It flows out of my veins as fast as a rapidly rising river. I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. This motherfucker is pushing me. Of course, he’d be worried about my intentions. Fuck, anyone with common sense would be. There’s no way I can find the words to explain the pull and tug I feel with Amelia. It has the potential to warp into a poisonous relationship, but the thing about me is, Amelia’s health will always be a priority. Even if I’m only lucky enough to be her friend and watch her bloom.

  “A friend helping another friend.” My answer is right to the point and precise and the God’s honest truth.

  “Ronan, quit beating around the bush and ask me the question we both know you want to ask.” He doesn’t say a word. I can see his mind working. His brain is working away, tapping on his skull. I’d be disappointed in him if he didn’t ask. It’s the trying to analyze my intentions that’s pissing me off. He should know me better than this.

  “I’m not going to ask either one of you what was discussed in here. It’s clear as the sky is blue that you two have a connection. But I’m warning you. She’s not as close to being healed as she thinks. You prepared to help her fight her demons? Her living with you isn’t going to be easy, Zeke. It’s going to be hell.”

  I contemplate my answer. I’m far from dumb. I know, and so does he.

  “I care about her. I’m not going to make her do a Goddamn thing she doesn’t want to do. I would think that everything I’ve done for her would be proof enough that she means something to me. But I’m a man of my word. A man of honor. The same as you, Ronan. And men like us do not take advantage of a woman like Amelia. They help them. No matter how hard it is. Let me ease your mind. She’ll basically have a wing of my house to herself and a job to occupy her time. There’s a gym right down the road from me. I have extra cars she can use when and if she decides to get her driver's license to go to her weekly meetings, shopping, visit her friends. She can do whatever the hell she wants except go back on the streets. I refuse to let that happen. Amelia will be living her own life. The streets have done enough damage to this woman, and there’s no way in hell I want her to ever have a sliver of a chance to going back to them.” It was wrong of me to throw all the money I’ve dished out to save her. I shouldn’t have to explain my intentions to him or anyone else except Amelia. My intentions are not to take, they’re simply to give. To figure out what in the hell is happening between her and me. That’s something that I won’t discuss, not with him.

  He relaxes back in his fancy office chair. “Got it, Zeke. If she chooses this, then promise me you’ll take care of her, and if things get to be too much, you’ll call me. I’ll be there in a heartbeat. Or someone will come in my place. Let her find her own way. Don’t coddle her, baby her, or make decisions for her. She needs to do things on her own. In her own time and pace.”

  That’s a promise I can make. With a nod of my head, I stand, head for the door, and stop when he calls out my name.

  “Hey, Zeke.”

  I turn to see Ronan with a smirk on his face. “Amelia loves art. I catch her staring at the paintings on the walls all the time. There’s something about the spark in her eye when she looks at them. And she may have said she loved to paint when she was younger. Just a suspicion.”

  “Thanks.” I nod then walk out the front doors knowing exactly how I’ll spend my time doing while waiting for Amelia’s answer.

  40

  Amelia

  I place my fingers up to my mouth, tracing the outline of my smile as I exit Ronan’s office. I walk down the hall, and once I’m far enough out of sight, I rest my back against the wall around the corner. My hands are clutching my chest, feeling the rapid beat of my heart. The promise of a permanent smile lingers across my once marred up face. There’s so much to think about that I don’t know where to begin.

  The impulsive part of me wants to jump on the chance. The addict in me knows this could all go bad in the blink of an eye. Zeke could be my new addiction. I could lean on him and expect things from him, and with every frayed fiber of my life I have woven back together I firmly believe I won’t. I need to do this on my own. To discover myself. To follow through with one goal in mind and that is to love the woman I am.

  This decision is going to take time and should be thought out. The pros and the cons and all that comes with them. Me, I must be at the center of it all accepting the consequences and perks of it. Or I could say to hell with it, fly by the seat of my pants and take the job, a place to liv
e, and eventually go from there.

  I need Renee. She’ll listen to me. Let me talk it out and give me the advice I need to figure this out. I push off the wall, calm my heart, and make my way to the kitchen. My intentions are to come out with it, blurt out the proposition Zeke gave me.

  “It’s not a proposition, Amelia, it’s an opportunity. A new life,” I tell myself.

  Instead, when I enter her domain, I begin helping her by rolling cookie dough into walnut-sized balls, my smile still lingering on my face. Renee is rattling on about all the stuff that needs to be baked before tonight. She always prepares food ahead. The woman is a type A personality to a T. I wonder if Ronan has analyzed that? The thought makes me laugh out loud.

  “What’s so damn funny?” Renee elbows me playfully.

  “Nothing.”

  “Okay, spill, girl. You’ve been in here for fifteen minutes with a big smile on your face. Your cheeks are flushed; your eyes are shining brightly. If I didn’t know any better, I would say you're thinking about a guy.” She knocks the cookie dough right from my hand, making me focus on her.

  I should have known better. Renee reads me like an open book. It’s comforting knowing that I’ll never be able to hide anything from her. She’s not nosey with the intention of talking behind my back or judging me. Nope, she’s concerned like a mother should be.

  I take in a deep breath and then let it all out. I tell her everything about the conversation Zeke and I had, not leaving out one single detail. Not even the part about how I feel when I’m around him. The thoughts of him being my first real kiss, or the possibility of him taking me out on a date. I know it’s silly, but the dreamy woman in me can’t seem to help myself from saying what I feel.