Meant For Her

by Raine Thomas

  “I think the dogs are about to burst,” she said as they washed their plates and threw the empty food containers away.

  “Yeah. We’d better walk them.”

  Smiling, she waved at the wagon. “I’m looking forward to holding up my end of the deal.”

  They got the leashes on the dogs and loaded Beck into the wagon, then headed out. The silence felt heavy between them. She wasn’t content to let it lie.

  “Did you ever think about going to college?” she asked as the elevator descended.

  “No.”

  “So you always knew you wanted to play baseball?”

  “Yeah.”

  Okay. Apparently, the “shut down” was even more intense than she’d thought. If he could have physically erected a wall around him, she was sure he would have.

  Too bad she wasn’t wired that way.

  “Cole skipped college, too,” she said as they emerged from the building into the warm night air. “I think he sometimes wishes he’d given it a try. Do you ever wish that?”

  “Why should I?”

  “I don’t know. The chance to meet new people. Try new things.”

  “I meet new people all the time,” he said, his gaze focused on the distance. “I can do without nearly all of them.”

  Well, he was certainly in a grim mindset. She didn’t want their date—if that’s what this was—to end on such a low note.

  Tilting her head in consideration, she looked around the park. The lights had kicked on to bathe the dark paths. After a moment, she found something that made her smile.

  “I’ve decided that you owe me a little more than just dinner for my wagon-wheeling skills,” she declared.

  For the first time since they left his apartment, he looked at her. “Did you?”

  She ignored the cool tone of his voice. “Yep. I’d like an ice cream cone.”

  He followed the line of her arm as she pointed at the truck parked in the distance. The hand-dipped ice cream truck visited the park almost every night. She knew their offerings were delicious. She might have been full to bursting, but she was determined to lighten Evan’s mood.

  “How can you possibly eat after all that food?” he asked.

  She couldn’t really answer him, so she smiled and shrugged. Since he’d looked genuinely curious and not so surly, she took it as a positive sign.

  “Fine,” he relented. “Let’s walk these guys first.”

  She decided to give him a break and remained silent as they made their way around the park. As she’d done before, she helped Beck out of the wagon and let him do his thing. His tail wagged as she put him back. She hoped that was his way of telling her he wasn’t too pained by the sprain.

  Eventually, they reached the ice cream truck. Sierra already knew what they offered, so she didn’t need to study the menu.

  “I’ll bet you’re a cookies ‘n cream guy,” she said, glancing at Evan.

  “How’d you know?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  Walking up to the window, she smiled at the teenager manning it. “Hi, Zane.”

  “Hey, Sierra.” He leaned out and looked down. “Hey there, Leo. Good to see you both.”

  “Thanks.” She accepted the Milk-Bone treats Zane handed her and reached down to feed them to the dogs. “Zane, I’d like my usual, please. My friend, Evan, here will have a scoop of cookies n’ cream.”

  Zane’s gaze moved to Evan. He started to say something. Before any words came out, his eyes bugged.

  “Holy shit! I mean, um, shoot. You’re Evan Dorsey.”

  “Yeah,” Evan said.

  Sierra gave Evan a nudge when Zane just stared. He looked down at her as though she’d spouted wings. She gave him a pointed look, then glanced at Zane.

  Sighing, he reached out and held his hand in Zane’s direction. “It’s nice to meet you, Zane.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too, Mr. Dorsey,” the teen stammered.

  His eyes were round and unblinking. He continued to pump Evan’s hand long after he should have released it. Sierra turned her head and pressed her fingers against her lips. Tears formed in her eyes as Evan glanced at her.

  “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” he asked dryly as Zane continued shaking his hand.

  She couldn’t contain her laugher anymore. It escaped in a loud burst that she tried to muffle with her hand. She reached up to touch Zane’s arm so he’d come to his senses.

  “Huh?” the boy asked, blinking at last. “Oh, geez. I’m such a dumbass. Sorry.”

  Flushing red, he disappeared into the truck to fill their order. She looked up at Evan, who caught her gaze. Was she seeing what she thought she was?

  Yep. The corner of his mouth was slightly turned up.

  “Sorry,” she said under her breath. “I couldn’t resist.”

  He issued a noncommittal grunt. Zane reappeared with their ice cream cones and Evan fished out some money to pay for them. Zane handed him back his change, which Evan promptly stuck into the large plastic tips jug.

  “Thanks, Mr. Dorsey. Sorry for, uh, wigging out like that.”

  “No worries,” Evan said.

  Sierra heard a few feminine sighs from the line behind them and thought of her friend Hannah’s desire to hear Evan say those words. It made her fight back another laugh.

  “Could I, you know, get your autograph?” Zane asked, holding up a pen and napkin.

  Evan handed his cone to Sierra and signed the napkin. Zane’s smile widened as he took it back.

  “Thanks, Mr. Dorsey.”

  “You’ll see more of us this summer, Zane,” she promised. “Thanks for the ice cream.”

  Seeing Zane’s expression made her night. She saw Evan shake his head as they stepped away from the truck, but she knew he was amused by it all. Apparently, she’d managed to kill two birds with one stone.

  She only ate half of her mint chocolate chip cone before she had to throw in the towel and admit defeat. She ended up dumping the remaining ice cream into a garbage can and let the dogs share the rest of the cone. Evan finished his entire cone before they got back upstairs to their floor.

  When he paused outside of her apartment, she knew she’d been right about him wanting to spend the rest of the night alone.

  “Good night, Evan,” she said, leaning up and kissing his cheek. “Thanks for dinner.”

  “Good night, Sierra,” he said.

  She and Leo entered her apartment. She listened at the door until Evan entered his before she headed to her bedroom to get changed. Even though their evening had been cut short, she didn’t mind.

  Evan had almost smiled. Progress was progress.

  Chapter 17

  By midnight, Evan was overcome with exhaustion. He turned off the TV and headed to bed, feeling like he’d run a marathon. Apparently, dealing with Beck and his own suddenly raging sex drive had taken more out of him than he’d thought. After brushing his teeth and stripping down to a pair of sleep shorts, he dropped face-down into bed and fell asleep.

  He woke up four hours later covered in cold sweat. The aches in his joints had spiked to a painful level. His stomach felt off, too.

  Of all the times to get the damn flu, he thought. He had a game today.

  Forcing himself out of bed, he stumbled to the bathroom. He hunted through the few medicinal items he kept on-hand and found the neon pink bottle of Pepto Bismol. Downing the small cup of medicine followed by a couple of aspirin, he shuffled back to bed.

  He must have dozed, because it was after five when the stomach cramps hit him. He doubled over, then jumped out of bed, barely making it to the bathroom in time.

  By six, he prayed Death would get a move on and claim him already. He’d been sitting on the bathroom floor for the past hour, alternating between horrific stomach spasms and violent heaving. He was too wiped out to do more than press his head against the cool marble tile lining the wall and wait for the next wave to hit.

  “Mr. Dorsey?”

  He slow
ly turned his head toward the bathroom door, though it felt like someone stabbing him in the back of the brain as he did. He must be hearing things now. He didn’t recognize the feminine voice calling his name.

  “Evan? Are you in here?”

  Perfect. There was a stranger in his apartment.

  He could only hope she had a weapon and would be gracious enough to beat him to death with it.

  Since his head was already tilted toward the door, he saw the stranger enter his bedroom. He’d turned the bathroom lights off because they hurt his eyes, but he’d managed to turn on a table lamp in his bedroom so he had enough light to see the toilet. The table lamp showed him a woman in her late forties or early fifties with a long, light brown braid and caring blue eyes. She wore a brown T-shirt, denim shorts, and flip-flops.

  “Oh, you poor thing!” she exclaimed, hurrying up to him and placing a hand on his forehead. “You’re burnin’ up.”

  No one had taken his temperature that way since he was a kid. He stared at her, unable to stop thinking of how she reminded him of his mother.

  “You can’t beat me up,” he managed to say.

  “Well, I’m not one to argue with someone as sick as you are, honey,” she said, her voice as southern as sweet tea, “but in your condition, you could probably be beat up by a wet towel.”

  In response, he hauled himself up and dry-heaved into the toilet.

  The woman issued noises of sympathy that only a mother could manage when they saw someone in such a condition. He wasn’t sure how, but she produced a washcloth and soaked it in cold water, pressing it against his neck as he held himself over the toilet. It felt divine.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “My name’s Regina Stratton. I’m Sierra’s mama.”

  Another wave of nausea hit him, so he didn’t respond. What the hell was Sierra’s mother doing there? It wasn’t enough that Sierra felt free to let herself into his apartment and act like she belonged there, now she was inviting her family over? This was insane.

  “Sierra asked me to check on you,” Regina explained, rinsing the washcloth and pressing it against his neck again. “She was worried when you didn’t answer your phone.”

  Sure, he thought as his stomach clutched again. So worried that she didn’t stop by herself.

  “She called us about an hour ago. Her sister had food poisonin’ once, you see, so she had a feelin’ that’s what was goin’ on. She knew she’d be in no condition to take care of Leo today, so she asked us to come over. When she said you’d both eaten the same thing last night and she couldn’t reach you, we figured you were probably hurtin’, too.”

  Her words took a moment for him to process. He had food poisoning. Sierra was sick, too. She’d tried to call and check on him and sent her mother to help him, whereas he hadn’t given her a moment of thought.

  He really was a self-centered asshole.

  “Shit,” he groaned, sinking back to the bathroom floor.

  “Among other things,” Regina agreed.

  Despite his condition, she surprised a snort of laughter out of him.

  “Good to see you’ve still got your sense of humor, darlin’. Look, you’re gonna have to trust me here. We’re gonna take care of you, okay?”

  He didn’t exactly have much choice.

  The next couple of hours were a blur of dry heaving, stomach seizing, moaning in misery, and allowing Regina to pour anything down his throat that she felt was necessary. He kept waiting to see the white light that everyone talked about. Instead, Regina somehow managed to get him to his bed and darkness claimed him.

  When the next stomach cramp hit him, he lurched up in bed and ran for the bathroom. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but sunlight now flooded his room. There wasn’t much to purge from his system, so it wasn’t long before he made his way back to his bed.

  A woman with shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair and green eyes very much like Sierra’s stood at the foot of his bed. She was an inch or two shorter than Regina, but about the same age. Her smile was just as kind.

  “Hi, Evan,” she said. Her voice held a husky undertone similar to Sierra’s and bore the same twang as Regina’s. “I’m Sierra’s mama, Deanne Stratton.”

  “You are?”

  “Yep.”

  He was too tired to question or argue. Perhaps the whole Regina person had been a hallucination. He’d never asked Sierra her mother’s name. At this point, anything was possible.

  “I’m guessing Sierra hasn’t discussed her family yet,” Deanne said, taking his sheet and pulling it up over him.

  He vaguely realized that he was naked. He couldn’t have cared less right then.

  “I need you to try and take in a little of this broth I made,” she said.

  His stomach heaved at the thought. “Dear God, no.”

  “Look, hon, you’re dehydrated and you’re an athlete . You have to try and drink this.”

  Athlete.

  He sat up, looking around to see what time it was. “I’ve got a game,” he said.

  His voice sounded like he’d swallowed razor blades. His throat felt like it, too.

  “Hell no, you don’t,” Deanne said.

  He couldn’t help but respond to her commanding tone. She walked up to him with a cup in her hand. It was a testament to his illness and sudden respect for her that he didn’t fight when she made him drink the broth.

  “Regina called her sister…Caroline Sanderson,” she said, running a hand over his hair. “You’re not goin’ into work today, hon.”

  Once again, he sank into oblivion. And he dreamed.

  He stood in a white-washed room without any furnishings. It felt calm. Right. When he turned around, he saw her.

  “Mom?”

  The word sounded dull and flat in the dream environment. She smiled and nodded.

  “I’m so proud of you,” she said.

  “Do you know?” he asked, emotion rising within him. “Can you see?”

  “I do. I can.”

  “I miss you so much.” The words barely made it past his aching chest. “How am I supposed to do this on my own?”

  She reached out and stroked his cheek the way she had always done, making his throat completely close. The look in her blue eyes conveyed the words without him needing to hear them.

  “Oh, my son…you’re not alone. Family comes in many forms. You just have to open your heart to them.”

  The words echoed in his mind as he blinked awake. Once again, the soft table lamp glowed beside his bed, telling him he’d slept through most of the afternoon. As he stared at the ceiling, bits and pieces of the day filtered through his memory. Regina standing over him in the bathroom, then hauling him into bed and attempting to soothe him. Deanne feeding him water and broth that he didn’t want, brow-beating him when he refused.

  For the first time in almost twenty-four hours, he felt like he’d live through this.

  “How’re you doin’, honey?”

  He looked to the doorway and found Regina standing there. “I’m better, thanks. How’s Sierra?”

  “She said she almost feels human now.”

  Nodding, he tried to see past her into the family room. “Where are my dogs?”

  “We’re takin’ ‘em home with us for the night,” she said. “Leo, too. You and Sierra are through the worst of it, but you need to focus on yourselves for a little while yet. We’ll take good care of ‘em.”

  “I’m sure you will,” he said. “Thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome, honey. You feelin’ up to gettin’ out of bed yet?”

  He wasn’t entirely sure, but he decided to give it a shot. Sitting up an inch at a time until he was fully upright, he realized that the room wasn’t spinning and his stomach didn’t feel like it was about to revolt on him.

  “Guess I am,” he said.

  “Glad to hear it. Why don’t you take a moment in case you decide otherwise, then come on out here?”

  After what he’d just go
ne through, he saw no reason to argue. It was a miracle just to use the bathroom the way it was intended.

  It felt like something had grown a home in his mouth, so he went ahead and brushed his teeth. By the time he made his way back into his room and put on a fresh pair of sleep shorts, he was feeling halfway normal again.

  “You need to drink the rest of the broth before mornin’,” Regina told him as she helped him over to the sofa. “It’s just fine to drink it cold, but you’ll probably like it better if it’s warmed up in the microwave.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “I’ve got your cell number and will be callin’ to make sure you drink it.”

  He didn’t doubt it in the least. As he sank down into his comfy sofa cushions, she handed him the remote. He looked up and caught her gaze.

  “Regina, you should know that I’m a little in love with you and Deanne right now,” he said.

  She patted his arm. “We’re happy to help, honey. Just hearin’ you say that is enough thanks for me.”

  Before she left, she made him drink some more broth and a cup of water. She sat beside him and watched the pre-game broadcast for thirty minutes. When he made no move to run for the bathroom, she rose.

  “You’ll hear from me in an hour or so,” she said.

  “Thanks, Regina.”

  “Sure thing, sugar.”

  She walked out. He barely had enough energy to focus on the television. The ballgame started a few minutes later. Cole was the starting pitcher. Burke Richards had been moved from left to cover third for him, he noted. Since Burke had covered for Jensen before Evan’s arrival, that wasn’t surprising. The announcers mentioned that Burke had been a third baseman in the farm system, so the temporary move made sense. It still cut a hole in his gut not to be there.

  Sometime in the fourth inning, his phone rang. It was Regina. She insisted on staying on the phone with him until he heated up his broth in the microwave and drank it. Once he had, he hung up with her and collapsed back onto the sofa.

  Hearing the lock on his door turn a short while later, he tipped his head enough to make sure it was Sierra coming in. It was. Her face was pale, her eyes shadowed. Her hair exploded from her head in chaotic, untamed curls. She shuffled in wearing only a large T-shirt and neon pink fuzzy slippers. Around her shoulders was a blue blanket that looked like it had been through a war.