Vibes & Feels: Falling for your enemy never felt so good. (Unlikely Pairings Book 2)

by Sarah Skye

  It’s no penance for a lifetime of douchebaggery.

  That, too, is true.

  This situation is too weird. I sit back and gaze out the window instead of trying to talk more.

  We swing into Gram’s driveway in record time. I’m out of the car before it stops moving, my shaking hands jamming the key into the front door. I crash into the front hall and shout for her. The house is small, but this is taking way too long. She’s not in the kitchen or the living room, and my bedroom door is shut as usual when I’m not home.

  Her bedroom door is ajar though.

  I knock softly and walk in, no air in my lungs. Gram is stock-still in her bed, hands folded peacefully, chin tilted up, still as stone. “Please no,” I breathe and drop to her side. Her papery hands are cool, but not cold. “Gram. Gram!”

  “Do you need an ambulance?”

  Marco’s voice is behind me, but I don’t turn. “Gram, Gram, Gram,” is all I can think to say. I tap her cheek. “Gram.”

  “Forty-Four-Twenty-Five Saunders Avenue. She’s not responsive. Hurry.”

  Dimly, I register that he’s just called 911, and I thank the universe for it.

  Marco appears on the other side of the bed. “I know CPR. Stand back.”

  I leap away and throw my shoulders against the wall, unsure if I can take the visual of someone doing chest compressions on my Gram but also sure I can’t take my eyes off of her. Marco kneels on the mattress and bends over her. He puts his hand to her mouth, his ear to her heart.

  And frowns.

  “Do it,” I shriek, unable to stand the suspense.

  “She doesn’t need it. Her heart is beating. She’s breathing. Not deeply, but definitely breathing.” He sits back on his heels, then steps carefully off the bed. Two long fingers press into my Gram’s neck as he lifts his other hand to look at his watch. “Pulse is slow but steady.”

  “But she’s not waking up.”

  “I know, Morgan. They’ll be here soon.”

  But it’s not a condescending statement. It’s clearly his best attempt at reassuring. I shuffle forward and sit down, then lay my head on her heart so I can hear the beats. “Gram,” I murmur again and again until the front door bangs open and footsteps rush in.

  “In here,” Marco yells into the hall.

  Dark blue uniforms appear and brush me aside as they assess her. I slide back to the wall and into the corner, my knuckles in my mouth while I pray to the universe for her to open her eyes.

  They put her on a stretcher. That’s when I start to cry.

  Tears blur my vision as I follow them out of the house and watch them bundle her into the ambulance. The door slams shut, and the red lights blare.

  “No, wait,” I bawl.

  “I’ve got you.”

  Marco’s hand lightly touches my shoulder to guide me back to his car, and I’m too hysterical to care. The whole ride over, I’m a blubbery, weepy mess.

  “Morgan. Morgan. Don’t go in crying. If she’s awake, you’ll scare her.”

  I look up to see that we’re already at the ER entrance. Marco’s instructions make sense, even to my panicked brain, so I wipe my eyes and bite down hard on my wobbly lip. “Are you coming too?” I sniffle when my hand is on the door.

  His brows knit again. “I can if you want.”

  “Please.” I nod. Later, I’ll wonder why the hell I said that, but right now I just need to not do this alone. For fucking once, I need a little support.

  Even if it is this guy.

  “Go on in. I’ll be right there after I park.”

  So, as ever, I go in alone. I’ve been going alone into so many chapters of life that I’m used to it. Gram has always been my cheering squad, but I make my way in this world. And even when the absolute shit hits the fan, I find a way to make something out of it. So here I am, walking into the emergency room to handle who knows what.

  “Paramedics revived her on the way over,” the receptionist says, reading from her screen. “I’ll take you back to talk to the doctor.”

  “She’s… she’s okay?”

  “This way, Miss.”

  I step into a partitioned “room” to find Gram sleepy-eyed but awake and a doctor standing nearby. “Hi, MoMo,” she mumbles.

  “Gram,” I croak.

  The doctor nods at me. “Ms. Paulsen, I’m Doctor Avilla. This is your grandmother, yes? I’m afraid she—”

  He breaks off and glances behind me, so I turn and see Marco in the doorway. He looks around, and his expression can’t hide how appealing leaping out the window seems to be. Normally I’d be the one throwing him, but not right now. I have no mental space for anything but what the doctor is about to tell me. I put my gaze back on him and nod.

  Dr. Avilla seems appeased that Marco is an authorized visitor. “Nina here has had a tough night. She slipped into a diabetic coma.”

  I let out a yelp. “Diabetes? Gram, how long since you’ve seen your endocrinologist?”

  “Too long, I guess,” she admits. “I had no idea. I just haven’t had much energy lately, and my vision’s been a bit blurry because I get tired. I’ve been meaning to look up his number, but…”

  “Hmm, but you also haven’t been eating, have you?” the doctor prompts gently. “You’re dehydrated and dangerously low on nutrients, Mrs. Walker.”

  Gram ducks her head. “Well, I do eat. I have my coffee and sweet roll in the morning, then tea. But I drink my orange juice through the afternoon, so I thought that was good.”

  I wait, but that’s all. “That’s what you eat in a day? Are you serious?”

  She shrugs feebly. “I’ve not been too hungry lately, mostly thirsty. Sometimes I’ll have a cookie with my juice if I’m feeling hungry.”

  The doctor breaks in, “Nina, you should know by now how to manage your diabetes. You were diagnosed a decade ago.”

  “It’s been managed a long time,” she replies, but then her expression collapses. “Maybe I’ve not been tending to it like I should since the rehab.”

  “Mmm, seems so and it’s caused some problems. We’ll have to put you on insulin injections at least until your blood sugars level out. You’ll need to check your blood sugars at home daily and keep a log for follow-up appointments.”

  “That’s going to be hard, what with the arthritis in my hand and not seeing too well lately,” she says.

  “Yes ma’am, I know. But we have other problems. On top of the hypoglycemia that your diet has caused, that knee is starting to atrophy since you’re not moving around much. Along with the insulin injections, we need to get you set up with a proper eating cycle. I suggest one of the meal delivery services in the long run. You’ll want to choose one that is low in sodium and sugar, of course. Overall, it’s not safe for you to stay alone right now.” He eyes me. “Her insurance doesn’t cover home health.”

  “No kidding.” Not that I would’ve wanted it, but when she was rehabbing from surgery, I found out firsthand just how out-of-the-question home health would be for Gram. Hence my four months out here in the burbs, work on hold, money running out faster than I could bring it in.

  “Oh, Gram,” I sigh as the enormity hits me.

  My modeling career isn’t going to survive. You don’t get sponsors and gigs if your name stays out of the rotation. If I can’t go to shoots, if I can’t create branded content on Instagram, then I’m done. I’ll have to get a work-from-home job as a customer service agent or something and live with her. I’ll have to give up my apartment in the city. I’ll have to give it all up.

  I clear my throat and nod at the doctor. “Okay, I understand. If I can’t find someone, I’ll take care of it.”

  “But your job, honey,” Gram says, her blue eyes full of worry. “You can’t.”

  “I have to, Gram. It’ll be fine. We don’t have a choice. There’s no one else.”

  “I could do it.”

  Gram, Dr. Avilla, and I all turn slowly to stare at Marco.

  5

  MARCO


  Welp. Judging by the look of absolute horror on Morgan’s face, and her grandmother’s shocked expression, that was clearly the wrong thing to say.

  I clear my throat, hunching my shoulders the slightest bit, as if that’s going to help ease the tension in the room.

  “What?” Morgan snaps.

  Before I can explain, the doctor smiles and glances back at the chart in his hands. “That’s nice that your boyfriend can stay with your grandmother, Ms. Paulsen.”

  I open my mouth to correct him, but Morgan’s scoff cuts me off. “He is not my boyfriend.”

  Each word punches from her mouth, dripping with bitterness. After what I did to her best friend, after how dickish I was to her the dozen or so times we ever saw each other, she has every right to react this way.

  It still stings though.

  “Sorry… I um…”

  Morgan’s grandma interjects in the midst of my muttering. She leans up a bit, her eyebrows furrowing as she looks at me.

  “Morgan, who is this handsome young man?”

  Morgan squeezes her eyes shut and takes a slow breath, as if she’s mustering all her energy to explain who I am.

  I brace myself. This is gonna be rough.

  “This snake in the grass, Gram, is Lily’s ex-boyfriend and Harmony’s ex-fiancé. Remember when I told you all about him? This is the legend himself. Marco.”

  I swallow back a grimace at her hard tone. Christ. It’s all true, but still. Ouch.

  The doctor’s brows fly up to his hairline. He mumbles something about giving us a minute, then darts out of the room.

  Morgan’s grandma squints at me for a few seconds, as if processing her granddaughter’s words. When she makes a “huh” noise, Morgan spins around to look at her. A tired smile tugs at her grandmother’s lips.

  “Well then. It’s not every day I have a handsome heartbreaker offering to be my caregiver.”

  She chuckles, which makes me start to chuckle. Until Morgan aims a scowl at me. I immediately shut up.

  Morgan turns back around. “Gram, over my dead body would I ever let him take care of you.”

  “Oh, Sugar Pea.” She starts to sit up, but then her face twists in pain.

  I dart over, bracing her back with my arm as I prop up a pillow behind her. She says a quiet thank you as I back away. I catch Morgan looking at me, mouth agape like she can’t believe I would dare help.

  I shrug and return to where I was standing, near the foot of the hospital bed.

  “And over my dead body will I let you ruin your career on account of me,” her grandma says.

  I don’t miss the way Morgan flinches at her phrasing.

  “I saw how you put everything on hold to look after me for months last year. I know the toll it took on you, on your career.”

  Morgan protests, but tears brim in her eyes. She pauses to take a breath.

  “Marco, is it?” her grandmother says as she turns her gaze to me.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh good lord. No calling me, ‘ma’am,’ alright? You call me Nina. Or Gram.”

  I smile slightly. “Okay, Nina.”

  “Gram, are you seriously—”

  Nina tilts her head at Morgan. “Honey, if he’s really as bad as you say, then what’s he doing here with you right now?”

  Morgan stammers, then explains. Nina’s brow rises higher and higher with each point in the story. Then she looks at me. Even though exhaustion is etched in every feature of her face, there’s a warmth there that’s so clear. It hits somewhere deep inside my chest.

  And then it registers: she’s looking at me with kindness, with care, with gratitude.

  “You helped save me. Thank you.”

  I stammer, not sure what to say because honestly, I don’t see it that way at all.

  “I didn’t really. I just…”

  She waves a hand. “You did. If you hadn’t brought my granddaughter to my house, I don’t even want to think about what would have happened.”

  I catch Morgan’s mouth quivering out of the corner of my eye, but she purses her lips quickly.

  Nina’s gaze on me turns focused. “But I have to say, what you did to poor Lily and Harmony? Pretty damn godawful in my book.”

  “Yeah. It was.”

  She says nothing more so I just stay standing there, fire engulfing my cheeks, bracing myself for whatever else she’s about to say.

  “But there’s gotta be some good inside of you to do what you did just now. And to offer to help stay at my home to look after me is incredibly kind of you.”

  I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “I… I’m trying to be better than I was.” It sounds so pathetic. But it’s true.

  Nina nods once. “So! Are you a health aide or nurse or something?”

  I shake my head. “No. I’m an unemployed lawyer with a lot of free time. But I’m CPR and first aid certified.”

  “Have you ever been arrested? Convicted of a crime?”

  My lips twitch. “Convicted? No. Not arrested either. But…”

  She hums, a light in her blue eyes. “But we’ve all done something, haven’t we?”

  “You said it, Nina. Not me.”

  The hint of a smile flashes across her face. “I’m assuming you’re not a serial killer?”

  I let out a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

  “Works for me.”

  Morgan holds up both of her hands. “Hold on a minute—”

  “Sugar Pea, I hate to break it to you,” Nina says in a sweet voice. “But this is my call. Yes, Marco over here sounds like a piece of work. But for some reason, I get a good feeling about him.” She sighs. “This is the best solution in a not-so-great situation. Let’s just be thankful for the miracle, okay?”

  Morgan’s jaw hits the floor before she clamps it shut, grabs my arm, and pulls me out of the room and into the hallway. She positions me to stand against the wall, then faces me.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Looking around, she tugs both of her hands through her hair before she lowers them to her sides. My eyes follow the movement. I never noticed just how slim and dainty her fingers are. Such an intriguing contrast. Her features are so pretty, so delicate, and yet everything about her spirit and her energy screams fight. Strength. Tenacity.

  I swallow and try to focus back on her face.

  “What are you trying to pull here, Marco?”

  “I’m just trying to help.”

  “Why though?” There’s such confusion in her tone, in her eyes. “We don’t even like each other. You and I could barely stand each other the times we’ve ever had to be in the same room before this. I just don’t get it.”

  Her breath is uneven when she exhales. She looks away, shaking her head. It takes her a moment before she looks back at me.

  “Look. Thank you for everything you did today. For stopping to help me, for calling 911, for bringing me here. That was really decent of you.”

  “You don’t need to thank me. I was happy to do it.”

  Her eyelids flutter slightly before she blinks, and her expression is focused once more.

  “Call me jaded, call me suspicious, call me whatever you want, but honestly, I’m just finding it really hard to believe that you would want to go out of your way to help my grandma. You don’t even know her.”

  I let her words soak in. She doesn’t believe me. She doesn’t believe that I would ever want to do anything good for another person. I mean, it’s not that surprising. This is how the world sees me. Not just my family, not just my exes. Everybody.

  Maybe I need to be brutally honest right now—in a way I never have before.

  Dr. Imana’s words from our session earlier tumble in my head.

  Give yourself permission to express an emotion you don’t normally allow yourself to express.

  I open my mouth but hesitate. Wait, does what I’m about to say really count as an emotion? Is honesty an emotion? It’s more vulnerable
actually… Jesus Christ, am I really standing here debating with myself? Of course this counts. Before this, before seeing Dr. Imana, I never, ever would have said any of this out loud. I wouldn’t even be standing here.

  “I get it,” I say. “You have every reason in the world to doubt me. But here’s the truth: my life has been shit ever since things ended with Harmony. And that’s my fault. I was a complete asshole, and I ruined everything. I lost my relationship. I lost my job. My family thinks I’m a pathetic loser, and they take every opportunity to remind me of that. But I’m trying to change. I’m trying to be better.”

  The only evidence that my words have affected Morgan at all is the slight wrinkle in her brow.

  “So you’re doing this good deed for my grandma to try and feel better about yourself and impress your family?”

  Her tone borders on incensed. Damn it, I’m going about this all wrong.

  “No, that’s not….” I lock eyes with her. “I know I’m a piece of shit.”

  Her eyebrows jump. Damn. I guess I hit a nerve in both of us.

  I clear my throat, softening my tone a bit. “It would be nice to be slightly less of a massive piece of shit every damn day, you know?”

  The way she moves her head looks a lot like a nod.

  “I think we both know I’m not busy. And your grandma seems awesome. I’d really like to help her.” Maybe it’s the pleading tone of my voice. I can’t remember a time when I sounded so open, so vulnerable. It’s probably why my heart is thudding so fast. But it’s the truth. It’s how I really feel. I just hope she believes me.

  When she opens her mouth, I brace myself for another rebuff. When she says, “Okay,” I’m stunned. And relieved. And happy.

  “You can stay and help her.” She rubs her temples. “Christ, I’m going to regret this.”

  She glances in the direction of Nina’s hospital door. “We need to set some ground rules though.”

  “Okay.”

  “You will call me immediately if there are any issues with her medication or if she’s feeling even just a little bit off. I’ll drive her car back to the city so I’ll be able to come back the moment anything happens.”