There wasn't much room to maneuver on that little sofa of ours, but Colt made the most of it, consuming me from above. His hands fed my full breasts into his mouth and there, his lips and sucking tongue took over. Every time the tip of his tongue brushed my nipple, it was soft, creating a feathery explosion in my depths. He followed that with another stroke, the off-and-on contrast between the two driving my mind and senses into a sphere that hovered somewhere above us. I didn't think about recriminations, I didn't think about anything but Colt and what he was doing to me. I raised my hips to meet each thrust. I couldn't seem to get him deep enough or the flesh of our groins flat enough against one another to feel fulfilled. Perhaps that was the way it was intended, that the act was built of desire and lack of fulfillment. No, I was wrong, in those next moments, I felt the pressure building somewhere in my hips, the stimulation against the soft flesh of my clitoris. He was very aware of what he was doing to me, indeed I opened my eyes and saw him watching my face. He alternated in depth, in speed, and in the amount of flesh that touched between us. His hands came down and lifted my buttocks to an angle that allowed him to penetrate me more deeply, more rapidly and with greater finesse. Then we entered that world where the sky is filled with stars, you're not aware of breathing but only the exquisite breaking of shudders as they ripple through your body, making you convulse as you give in to them. I looked at his face briefly, his head thrown back, the muscles in his neck standing out and throbbing as he found his own world beyond. He jerked and held his body rigid, unwilling to interrupt their flow until they had subsided.
Colt opened his eyes and looked at me then and we exchanged a knowing glance. It was a look of lovers who recognized they’d found their partner in all things. Colt’s arms came down and slid beneath my back, lifting me as he rolled me atop him. I laid there along the length of his body, his skin damp from exertion. We were both breathing heavily, and he wrapped his arms tightly around me as well as his heavy leg and thigh encasing me as much as possible. We needed that touch. We needed that closeness, that lack of separation. We fought for it.
After some time, the ecstasy passed and we returned to our bodies. There was a short, uncomfortable moment when we realized there was nowhere else to go but down, back into our bodies, back into that awkward routine of conversation between us. He kissed me to ease the passing, and I wanted to climb into his skin and stay there with him forever.
Finally, I pushed at his chest and softly asked him to let me get up. In one movement, I rose to my feet, my hands lifting my heavy hair and rolling it into a bun tucked at the back of my head. My body needed ventilation, the sheen of perspiration and residual warmth from his body begged for cool air. I knew what I wanted but was hesitant; would he misunderstand?
"Would you like to take a shower with me?" I asked tentatively.
He didn't misunderstand; he didn't think I was trying to wash his fluids from my skin. We both wanted to feel fresh and clean and so he nodded and followed me and we crowded into the tiny standup shower. We took turns soaping one another's bodies and laughed as I tried to wash his thighs, but the cramped space caused me to slip and fall to the bottom of the shower stall.
He laughed loudly and bent to rescue me, lifting me up off my feet. He kissed my thighs and my womanhood and up the trail of my body to my nipples and into that soft space in my throat that throbbed when he made love to me. He slowly allowed me down to my feet and then wrapped his body around me.
"I wanted you so badly," he said softly, and I nodded, knowing.
We finally shut off the cooling water and wrapped in towels, taking turns drying one another's backs. He began pulling on his clothes and I went into the small bedroom, peered at Carrie and then drew a sleep shirt and a pair of fresh panties from the drawer. "I'm sorry, but I can't invite you to stay. There just isn't any room."
"I know," he said in a resigned tone. "But it was wonderful, you’re wonderful, and I want you more right now than I did before."
His words were reassuring and made me feel safe and wanted. I let them settle down over me like a warm furry robe.
"I'm going to leave you now,” he said. "I will see you tomorrow, so get in there and get a good night’s sleep." His voice was teasing in a pseudo-parent’s way. I nodded in response. Both of us seemed to hesitate to go back into that verbal world where we crossed swords. For the moment we were content, we were together, and it was enough.
He went to the door, opened it, and turned to say, “I will see you tomorrow." I nodded, and he left. I skipped over to the door and placed my ear against the wood, listening to his footsteps as he descended the three flights of stairs until he reached the ground. I scooted to the window and watched him leave, climbing into his car and pulling into traffic and then finally he was nothing more than a pair of taillights that blended in with all the others. Sad that he was gone, I hugged myself and climbed beneath the covers of my bed. With a deep sigh, I was soon asleep.
Chapter 13
Coulter
I hated leaving Gwen. Her daughter was adorable, and I’d felt something unique when I held her. As an only child, I’d never been around children. It triggered something in me. I knew what Gwen triggered in me; that was completely clear.
I couldn’t figure out why she found it necessary to hide Carrie from me, and from others. I supposed she still carried her small-town stigma about single mothers. I knew she never married the father. It was one of the things I checked.
I decided to drive around the city before I went back to the condo. I felt restless, an unfamiliar feeling for someone whose workload was always quadruple what normal men worked. I did it deliberately. I had plans of being a permanent bachelor and whatever women would come and go through my life would be temporary. Now I was feeling a draw toward one single woman, and this was a totally new experience for me. It felt like things were moving quickly, almost dizzily, but that’s who I was. When I set my mind to something, I wasted no time. Too many things, really good things, had been lost due to hesitation. I had no plans of losing Gwen, ever.
I drove toward the lakeshore and found a vantage point where I could park looking out over the water. I could see boats making port in the distance and there was even a flash of lightning as a storm was approaching from the west. I decided at that moment that I would buy a boat, one large enough to handle the rough waters of Lake Michigan and sleep a half-dozen people. I knew nothing about boating, but I could hire people who did. I would take Gwen and Carrie with me. Hell, I would even invite Buddy and that ditzy Bitsy roommate. We could go up the coast on both states, making port in towns that looked interesting. I’d heard there were some beautiful sightseeing locations along Lake Superior. I decided I would begin looking the next day and felt a little excited at the anticipation.
My cell buzzed in my pocket and I quickly grabbed it, thinking it was Gwen calling to tell me good night. It was a number I didn’t recognize, and I came close to sending it to voicemail. It was my private number, though, and unless someone had misdialed accidentally, I had no idea who it would be. Then came one of those little voice moments that told me to take the call.
“Hello?”
“Is this Colt Stillman?”
“Who is calling please?”
“I’m sorry, but the law requires I verify that this is Colt Stillman.” I was puzzled, it wasn’t as if they could serve you legal papers over the phone.
“Yes, this is he. With whom am I speaking?”
“Mr. Stillman, your name and number are listed as emergency contacts for Mr. William Clark?”
“Buddy! What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Stillman, your friend has been involved in a very serious automobile accident. My name is Mrs. Green and I am a social worker at Mount Mercy Hospital. We are trying to locate a next of kin or emergency contact individual to come in. Would you be available?”
“Oh, shit! Is he alive?”
“Mr. Stillman, I apologize, but I’m unable to release any personal information over
the telephone. I would need you to come in with a picture ID. I’m sure you understand.”
“Dammit, tell me! Is he still alive?”
“The only thing I can say, Mr. Stillman, is that I am not calling you for mortuary services. Does that help?”
“Where do I find you?”
“Give them your name at the emergency desk and they’ll page me. That’s Mrs. Green, Marjorie Green. I’ll expect to see you soon.”
I already had the car in reverse and spun out getting onto to the road. Luckily, Mount Mercy wasn’t far and it was late, so the traffic was light. I swung into the emergency parking and sprinted through the doors to the reception desk. “Mrs. Green, I’m here to see her. Tell her it’s Colt Stillman. She’s expecting me.”
“Please have a seat in that first conference room on the left and she’ll be in to see you,” the woman there said, pointing down the hallway. I looked around the waiting room quickly but there was no one there I recognized. I must have been Buddy’s only emergency contact. I found the room and went in, pacing until the Green woman came in.
“Won’t you have a seat, Mr. Stillman?”
“I’d rather stand if you don’t mind,” I told her firmly.
“If you wish, but I have some papers for you to sign. That might be easier if you’re seated.”
I felt a sick dread in my gut and did as she asked. Whipping out my wallet, I extracted my license and slid it across the table toward her. “My picture ID,” I commented.
She took it and stood, clasping it in her hand. “I need to copy this, I’ll be right back.”
Jesus, this is like being in court! I knew I was agitated. Why the hell couldn’t the woman just tell me what shape he was in? She was back in a matter of moments according to the clock on the wall, although it felt like hours. Why did every hospital room have a clock? To tally your misery?
Mrs. Green slid my license back across the table. “Thank you, hospital rules and I understand your frustration. Your friend, Mr. Clark is alive. He was involved in an accident earlier this evening and paramedics were forced to extract him from his vehicle with cutting equipment. From what I understand, his car rolled over an embankment a number of times and he was unconscious when he was brought in. I really don’t have any more information than that for you right now because I’m not medically qualified to give you diagnosis or prognosis. You will, however, be able to speak to the doctors. Mr. Clark is still being examined and treatment determined.”
I heaved a sigh that he was alive… for the time being. “Where is he?”
“He is still in the ER, pending tests and I suspect will be either sent to surgery or ICU depending on the results and what sort of treatment is required. I will not candy coat this, Mr. Stillman. Your friend is in very critical condition—I’ve seen the charts often enough to note that. He has not regained consciousness as far as I’m aware. We found this card in his wallet while looking for identification.” She held it up and I recognized his Stillman Enterprises business card. She turned it over and there was handwriting on the back.
“May I?”
“Of course,” and she handed it over.
Essentially it was Buddy’s request that I be contacted and treated as medical power of attorney in case of emergency. He had no other family. He listed Mason’s phone number for the documentation, including a DNR requesting that life-saving measures beyond immediate requirements not be provided. I was blown away. His entire life was in my hands and his wishes stipulated on the back of a lousy business card.
“Mr. Stillman, you should know that Mr. Clark’s license is marked giving permission for his participation in the donor program, should he not survive.”
“Don’t!”
“I’m sorry?”
“Don’t say those words to me. Not now. Buddy is flesh and blood and like a brother to me. He has a hundred people who care about him, even if they aren’t blood relations. Do not refer to him as a corpse in your donor kitchen, do you understand?”
“But, Mr. Stillman, it’s important…”
“I said, do-not! If your services are required by me, I will let you know. In the meantime, I want to talk to the doctors and I will be consulting with a few of my own.”
“Mr. Stillman, doctors must have privileges with Mount Mercy to be able to treat patients here. That’s the law.”
“Then I’ll move him out. Whatever. Now, let me see him and his doctors.”
I knew I was being a jerk, but I’d learned how to deal with places like hospitals. You had to put your foot down and be assertive otherwise they’d wander around at their own pace and bombard you with rules designed to raise your tab while they practiced with their diagnostic toys. That wasn’t going to happen to Buddy—not on my watch.
“Mr. Stillman, if you will… there are a number of papers here we need you to sign.”
“What are they?”
“Mostly permissions for treatment, release of liability, the standard forms patients sign on admission.”
“Hold on to them. My attorney will be here shortly, and I will bring in my own people as second opinions.”
“Mr. Stillman, you do realize that we can’t proceed with treatment unless these forms are signed?”
I slammed my hand on the table and leaned over it, coming close to her face. I could tell she was alarmed and I didn’t give a shit. “Now listen. I don’t know you and you probably haven’t heard of me. We don’t run in the same circles, you and I. I will tell you this, however. There is a wing in this hospital that my family paid to have built. We endorsed major equipment acquisition here for treating children. In short, Ms. Green, your administrator will not be happy with the way I’m being treated. I don’t give a rat’s ass about your rules. My best friend in the world is in that ER of yours and you will treat him, with or without my signature on these god-damned papers, do you understand? My attorney will be here in a matter of minutes when I make the call, and you can expect the best and the brightest doctors to be arriving shortly thereafter. Why? Because they, Ms. Green, do know who I am and not to interfere with me or my orders. Have I made myself clear?”
Whether she responded from fear, or realization of the truth I spoke, it didn’t matter. Time was passing, and I didn’t know how much Buddy had left. “Go!” I shooed her away and slid out my cell.
I called Mason and while I waited for him to arrive, I made a few calls to friends of my father’s who were tops in their fields. Several were at Mayo and I sent my corporate jet to pick them up. They could be on site in a matter of a couple of hours. I hoped Buddy had that long.
Mrs. Green left the consultation room and returned, a visitor’s pass in her hand. “This will get you into his room but stay out of the way and do what the nurses tell you to,” she said briefly and left. I figured she was out of the way for the time being.
Pushing through the double doors, I found the cubicle marked on the pass and staggered when I saw Buddy. He was on a ventilator and his head almost totally bandaged. As I came closer to the bed, I could see his features were badly bruised and swollen beyond recognition. If I hadn’t known where to find him, I would have passed this man by. A bank of equipment with lights and beeps surrounded him and his arms sprouted a dozen or so wires from beneath the blankets. He was a fucking mess!
A nurse came in and looked at me, so I pulled out the pass. “Only a couple of minutes. We’re getting ready to take him for a CT scan.”
“I’d like to see his doctors,” I told her.
“I’m sorry. They’re with other patients right now and they really can’t tell you anything until the tests results are back. Now, if you’ll step out, Mr. Stillman, was it? I need to check his bandages for seepage and this won’t be pleasant.”
“I can take it. I’m not going anywhere.”
She looked doubtful, but shrugged and nodded, turning to her work. I backed off and stood in the far corner out of her way. She was right—it was a helluva nasty sight. I couldn’t imagine that Buddy was stil
l alive, given what I saw.
When she finally left the room, I stepped closer to the bed. He was unconscious and, on a ventilator, but I bent low and whispered to him. “Buddy, it’s me, Colt. I’m here and I’m not leaving. I’ve got the big guys on the way and they’re going to make sure you’re up and around in time to come to work on Monday, you hear? Just relax—I’ve got this.”
The words rang loudly in my head. That’s what Buddy always said to me, “I’ve got this.” Well, it was my turn.
Chapter 14
Gwen
I awakened with sunshine emanating from my soul. I never thought I could feel that happy again. In fact, it was better than it could have ever been with Paul. I was in love, but it was on my terms. It doesn’t get any better than that.
Carrie seemed to sense my light mood and pulled up on the side of the crib and clearly said, “Mama.” I was thrilled and swept her into my arms as I headed for the kitchen to make our breakfasts.
Bitsy was groggy on the sofa. She normally didn’t get in until one or two in the morning, so I let her sleep. It was tough to be quiet with a baby and an open kitchenette that never had enough room for noisy pans. Carrie, having mastered her vocabulary, was repeating “Mama” over and over. I sat her in her high chair and gave her some small bits of grapes and a warm bottle of oatmeal. I broke two eggs into the warped frying pan and I think the smell of breakfast is what got Bitsy off the sofa.
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