When Opposites Collide Boxset

by Kathy Coopmans

  “If that’s what you want.” Again, another short reply from him.

  Something is definitely bothering him. The man I’ve grown to care for as a friend has vanished, leaving behind a shell of a person.

  “It is,” I partially lie again and turn my head away from him.

  I really do want him to show me. However, I would love to talk to him, too. A friendly chat about basketball, some of his favorite hobbies, or even a few gory stories from the ER like he used to tell me in rehab.

  Tears well up in my eyes as he finishes in silence. I stand there struck mute in my jeans, white shirt, and flip-flops. Stupidly. The silence is a deafening ringing in my ears.

  “Give me ten minutes.” He stands, takes his plate to the sink, and pours more coffee. Then walks away without a second glance. What the hell just happened?

  My fingers begin to tremble, the uneasy urge to feel something other than pain slowly yet rapidly flooding in. My head trying to tell me I need a high. I drum my fingers on the counter searching for something to do. Anything to take my thoughts away from drugs. Dishes. I stand and begin to fill the sink with hot soapy water. My skin stings when I sink them in. The slight pain is a welcome as I clean away any remnants of the disastrous breakfast and dark thoughts.

  Zeke waltzes back with his shield of armor firmly in place. He’s still shirtless but carrying two MacBooks this time. He sets up at the bar flipping both lids of the Macs open, while I stand and stare feeling lost, just like I used to in the alleyways. But this time with no high or escape. I need Ronan and a safe place. Not his cold shoulder when I have no idea where I’ve overstepped or what I could have done.

  “Amelia.” His voice is far off and distant. “Amelia.”

  I have to run. I’ve done something to disgust him.

  “Hey.” I feel the warmth of his palm on the top of my shoulder. His touch zaps right to my racing heart. “Are you okay?”

  “This isn’t a good idea. I should leave.” The words spill from my mouth with panic setting in hard and fast in my chest. They sting, burn, and I feel awful. Sick to my stomach.

  “Come. Sit down.” Zeke guides me to the barstool. My body goes easily. I’m numb.

  “Are you okay?” I look up, and he’s staring at me. Intensely. Studying and trying to analyze. I don’t care for it at all. It makes me feel naked and vulnerable.

  “Amelia?”

  I look down at my fingers tangling together. I feel like a petulant child who is about to be punished for something she didn’t do. It scares me to death, because that’s exactly what I am compared to him. A kid who doesn’t know a damn thing. A woman who thought she would be able to take care of herself, yet here I am on day one, falling apart for God only knows what or why. “You’re mad at me. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m sorry for. I shouldn’t have come here.”

  “I’m not mad at you, Amelia.”

  “You haven’t even looked at me. You’re giving me the cold shoulder and acting like it’s a chore to show me how to do my job.”

  Ronan would be one proud man right now with me talking shit out even if it’s awkward as hell. I steady myself for his next words of telling me to get the hell out.

  “You are wrong.”

  I shake my head no still staring at my fingers. I shouldn’t have left. I’m far from ready to be on the outside. I may never be ready.

  “You are wrong,” he repeats. “Amelia, please look at me.”

  “I’m not sure if I can. It hurts too much to know I’ve already pissed you off.”

  “I’m going to touch you,” he warns.

  In a flash, his hand is cupping my cheek gently, raising my face up to his. His touch soft, comforting with no threat. No force to make me do something I don’t want to do. My skin sizzles and tingles with the same connection I felt when he touched my shoulder. The pad of his thumb starts running back and forth across my cheeks.

  “You. Are. Wrong.” He speaks each word with determination with a slight pause between each. “I am not mad at you, Amelia.”

  “But you—”

  He cuts me off, not apologizing for it.

  “I want you.”

  Those new three words he speaks leave me speechless and struggling to fill my lungs with oxygen. What? He wants me?

  “It was never my intention to tell you how I feel when I extended this invite to you, but there’s something about you, Amelia, that consumes my every thought, and seeing you last night here in my house with a genuine smile on your face changed the game for me. I’m being honest with you here. I thought maybe if I kept my distance from you this morning that it would extinguish some of those thoughts and feelings. It wasn’t to hurt you. Amelia, you have no idea how much I’d sacrifice to keep you safe.”

  My heart bursts at his admission, heating my body from head to toe. I’ve never felt this in my entire life. It’s impossible to describe, because it’s everything a woman like me has ever wanted. My body, mind, and soul reel in confusion, and I answer him the only way my heart tells me to. I lean forward slowly with precise movement until our lips connect. His entire body stills. His caressing across my skin stops. I kiss him quickly then pull back, startled from my reaction.

  “I have no idea what’s happening here, Zeke. The one thing I do know is that I’ve been alone for so long with my own tortured thoughts that talking, communicating, and speaking my mind has become important to me. It’s a necessity I don’t want to live without to be able to express myself. Please don’t hide anything from me. Even if it’s something that will hurt.” I nuzzle into his touch. His palms still holding my face. I could stay this way all day with him touching me like this. My body is welcoming a man’s touch instead of those disgusting feelings I always had when being touched before. They were never gentle, never welcomed, but his hands...they are wanted in more ways than I can understand. “We talk about everything, Zeke. No avoiding stuff.”

  “That I can do, Amelia.” I want more than anything for him to lean forward to finish his words with a kiss. My first real one. Instead, his green eyes pool with determination, making me even fonder of him. This man is a sinkhole, because all he makes me do is fall harder for him as a friend and possibly even more. His simple actions are making me believe in the good of the world once again. He cares. It’s simple, the way a budding relationship should be. In this moment, I realize that Zeke may want me, but he’s not out to hurt me. I’ve never been surer of anything in all my life.

  “Work,” I struggle to get out. “Tell me all about my new job.”

  We spend a good thirty minutes on how to use a Mac. Everything is backward to me. Zeke passes me a notepad to jot down usernames and passwords. I have the email down, the contacts noted that need to be made, and the numerous caterers and everything else that needs to be done. He was right; there’s so much work to be done, and even though he hasn’t mentioned the charity, this is all going toward it. It’s clear he’s passionate about it. I’m learning quickly that when Zeke cares, he pours his whole heart into it.

  “The charity?” I ask.

  Zeke stills then rubs his hands down the scruff on his face. I can’t help but notice how his chest flexes along with his abs. It causes an unfamiliar ache between my legs. One I want to be there on my own. Not one that’s caused by the influence of drugs or a craving to erase my pain. It’s there, because I want it to be.

  “The Lost Angels.” He pauses hinting how hard it is for him to talk about it. “It’s a charity that helps young women in California.”

  “Okay.” I swallow, wanting to know more but not daring to ask.

  I’m not sure if he thinks this is going to affect me, or if there’s another lingering reason for his hesitancy to open up.

  “They provide safe shelter, counseling, and a new start for women. It’s a newer organization that I want to get up and running nationwide. It’s my goal to have a safe place for advice to young teens and women to go to before it’s too late.” He what? If this isn’t some kind of sign t
hat the two of us weren’t destined to meet, then I don’t know what other sign there could be.

  “Zeke?” My voice is shaky. “How long has this organization been around?”

  “Five years.” He doesn’t look me in the eye when he speaks.

  Those two words answer my question. There’s a reason or even more, a person, behind this charity who inspired Zeke to found it.

  “Okay.” I sit up tall with fingers poised on the keyboard. “I’ll begin planning today with researching caterers and a band.”

  Zeke smiles easily, relaxing back in the barstool.

  While me, I’m wondering what’s the driving force behind this charity.

  43

  Zeke

  “I don’t give a flying fuck if you want to try and talk to her. You should know the scum that trolls your streets and beats the hell out of women regardless if they are homeless or not.” I lower my voice, push the door open to the doctors’ lounge, and look around for something to punch.

  It’s awfully funny to me that it took a phone call to the Chief of Police for him to admit he wants to talk to Amelia about who attacked her. They drove me Goddamn nuts when it first happened. Then vanished as if she meant nothing. Amelia hasn’t even told me if she knows who did this. Hell, we haven’t even talked about it. I know her. She won’t tell anyone.

  Amelia is trying so hard to put her past behind her, and here this fucker wants to talk to her. Fuck, no.

  “I’m not shoving this off to the side, doctor. Do you have any idea how many homeless people are beaten on my streets?” he says with authority.

  “As a matter of fact, I do. I stitch up more of them than you think. Do your Goddamn job and find them. Once you do, give me a call, or I swear to God I’ll be up your ass until you do.” I hang up, toss my phone on the bed, and run my hands down my face. I’m pissed. I want them found, so they can disappear. They deserve to pay as much as her family does.

  I’d love to pick up the phone and call Saxon or Katch. I need them focused on finding out who her family is. The cops need to do their job. Stupid fucks.

  I will myself to calm down before I have to call Amelia to tell her I won’t be home tonight. The ER is busy as hell. Even though the weather is cooling off, it doesn’t stop the flu season from hitting full force.

  I take a seat on the lumpy bed. My mind swaying back to this morning.

  I was such an asshole to her. I knew I would be the minute I climbed out of bed. I heard her downstairs running on my treadmill, so I took the coward’s way out. Went for a run outside to clear my head with every intention of coming back to tell her how I felt. The guilt I tried to push away ate at me with every pounding step I took.

  By the time I got home and saw her making breakfast in the kitchen, I knew I couldn’t. She set out to please me. To do something nice, and if I dumped that on her, I was terrified she would recoil back into herself.

  Then what does she do? She shocks the ever-loving fuck out of me by spilling her self-doubt out of her. Thinking she had done something wrong when everything she was doing was right.

  I told her how I felt, and even though knowing with everything inside of me it’s more forbidden than anything I’ve done in my life, it was the right thing to do. For her and for me. The problem is, Amelia is young; she has no clue what direction her life is going. She just got out of rehab, and I want to believe she feels something for me. That she wants to get to know me. I just don’t know if she understands the meaning of it. She’s not dumb by any means. She simply hasn’t been given a chance to live.

  “Hey. I thought I saw you sneak in here.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. Marissa is relentless.

  “I thought I made it clear to you that what we had going on was done.” I stand.

  I don’t trust the bitch as far as I can spit. I want her out of here.

  “I didn’t come in here for that. I’ve recently started dating someone. He’s a few years younger than me, but who cares, right? I mean, age is just a number.”

  I stare blankly at her. Not really seeing her at all. It’s her words that hit me straight in the chest. I don’t mean the ones about her dating. I couldn’t care less. It keeps her away from me. It’s the ones about age and numbers. It takes me back to what I was thinking about. It doesn’t matter how young Amelia is or that she has no experience with dating or the benefits that come with it. I can guide her, teach us both things we can learn together.

  “That’s great. I hope he treats you well. You deserve it.”

  I mean what I’m saying. Even if Marissa is a bitch who has dollar signs in her eyes. She can take them elsewhere. Sink her claws into an idiot who will provide her with what she needs. Yep, makes me a dick for even thinking this way, since I used her when I needed her, but since that time in my life, things have become clearer. Crystal clear.

  “I came in here to ask you to put me on the guest list for that charity event you're doing. The guy I’m seeing is in his final year of medical school. Pediatric surgeon. He would really love to come. I thought I would surprise him.”

  “Of course. Jot down your address and hand it to Yvonne tomorrow. I’ll make sure to get you one.”

  Yvonne is the temp the hospital brought in for me a few days ago. I haven’t had time to talk to her much. She’s doing a remarkable job. I could hire her on, but I’m hoping somewhere down the line Amelia finds the strength to take the position.

  “Thanks. I’ll let you get some rest while it’s somewhat calm out here.”

  I don’t reply. I simply wait for her to turn and leave while shaking my head.

  “Money is not going to buy you happiness, you miserable bitch,” I mumble to myself as she leaves.

  It’s cruel and harsh, but that’s what this environment does to you. I’ve experienced it year after year seeing women just like her cling to the hope of dollar signs. The sick part is, most of them don’t care if the doctor is married or not.

  Quickly, I dial Amelia’s number. Her giving it to me was just another huge step in our progression. I want to protect her, even go as far as calling up Ronan to thank him for giving her a phone and Renee and Zoe for taking her shopping. It’s not my place to do any of those things. It’s just the way I am. Someday, I hope I can thank them for taking her under their wing and showing her there really are good people in this world.

  “Hello.” Her one word is coming out a little frazzled.

  “Hey, beautiful.” God, it feels good to call her that. It’s true. She is

  My mood lightens in an instant when I hear Amelia’s voice on the other end of the line. I’m shocked that I don’t even cringe at my brazen greeting. It’s time to go after what I want and to ignore the voice deep inside of me screaming this is all wrong. The only important thing is, I know what my intentions were in the beginning, but now all of that has changed. I still won’t push her. Not ever. I’ll wait.

  “Did you forget to punch my name in like I told you to?” I ask.

  I don’t have it in me to tell her about my sister. Not yet. She has too much to think about already. Her top priority is her healing, and I’ll be damned if I have her thinking I took her in as a charity case like she suspected in the beginning, or for her to think I only want her to ease my pain from the loss I’ll never get over. I want Amelia to know I want her for her and nothing else.

  “No. I’m still trying to figure out this Mac. I’m getting there, though. I at least have the invite drafted up. Now I’m just finishing up the design. Are you sure you don’t want the invites sent here? I can address them all for you.”

  Like hell, she can. The mayor's office can do that shit. She has enough to do. Like realizing her feelings for me.

  “No. We’ve divided the work up. You could shoot me a copy of the invite. If there are any changes to be made, I can let you know. If not, I’ll forward it on to them. As far as the Mac goes, you could play around with it tonight. It will come to you, Amelia.”

  The same way you’ll come to me. />
  “Is this the part where you say, “Honey, I won’t be home until late, so don’t wait up?”

  She giggles. A far cry from the woman I hated to leave this morning, and Christ is her laugh contagious. I massage my stiff neck and laugh.

  “Something like that. Are you going to be okay? This has to be a lot for you take in, Amelia. This morning was pretty intense, not to mention you had to put up with my brother last night.”

  “I’m doing well, Zeke. I promise. If I weren’t, I would call you or Ronan. I won’t allow myself to slip; and let’s be honest, Saxon was a treat, you know, so charming and all.”

  My hand stills on my neck. The stiffness turns tight and shoots down my spine. Fuck.

  “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

  She sighs, while I sit here pinching the bridge of my nose thinking I’ve unintentionally hurt her again.

  “Zeke. We're talking. Communicating. I like it. You are the first person in my life who I can tell anything to and not feel judgmental eyes staring back at me. I’ll be okay. Besides, I have to get used to your schedule anyway. I’ll call you or Brick if I have issues. I promise.”

  “Brick?” I question.

  I never call him by his club name, because he’ll always be Saxon to me.

  “Yeah. He gave me his number while you were making dinner and the 411 on how he joined a motorcycle club. Not going to lie; he may have you in the badass department.”

  Even in my exhausted state, a deep chuckle escapes “Right. I may have to pull out some more of badass for you, then.”

  Shit, I thought I was listening to everything the two of them talked about. I guess I wasn’t. I’m sure seeing her sit there looking the way she did, smelling like flowers and blossoming with every word she spoke had nothing to do with it.

  “Go save lives, Zeke. I’ll see you whenever you get home.” she warns, or was that a promise? Either one, I hang up, fall back on the bed, and sleep for several hours.

  “Amelia,” I holler, toss my keys on the table next to the door, and set out to find her. She’s only been here for two days, and it feels like weeks since I’ve seen her. Love will do that to a person.