Seb

by Cheryl Douglas

  That T-shirt had done little to hide how ripped he was, though I’d tried hard not to notice. And those light blue eyes with that deep black hair… sinful. A girl could get seriously hooked on a man like that. A girl who didn’t have more important things on her mind than getting sexed up. Like life and death.

  Tossing my purse on the seat of my sensible, fuel-efficient sedan, I looked around the parking lot, admiring the vintage cars and wondering how anyone could justify spending so much money on a set of wheels they probably parked more than they drove.

  On the way back to my uncle’s apartment, my mind raced, wondering whether or not Seb would come through for me. He had to. Even if he called to tell me there was no way he could fit it into his schedule, I would go back begging on my hands and knees if I had to. Hell, I’d have cut a deal with the devil himself to see my uncle smile one last time.

  Losing him was almost harder than losing my parents and Nan. At least my parents’ deaths had been swift, and Nan’s had been expected because of her advanced age. I’d grieved for my parents and Nan and found a way to move on—because of my uncle’s love and support. But watching him waste away was hell, and once he was gone, I would have to face facts: I was all alone in the world. At twenty-eight, I could hardly claim to be an orphan, but knowing I wouldn’t have a single family member I could call on when times were tough would have been terrifying if I’d let myself dwell on it.

  My heart raced when I turned into the apartment complex parking lot and saw emergency vehicles. Please, God, no! I threw the car in park, barely taking time to kill the engine before I ran to the door in time to see the paramedics bringing our landlady out on a stretcher.

  “Is she going to be okay?” I asked a handsome police officer hovering near his cruiser. I chastised myself for feeling relieved the ambulance wasn’t there for my uncle. Mrs. Ryan was a lovely woman and one of the last people I’d ever want to see fall ill.

  He offered a sympathetic smile. “Is she a relative?”

  “No, just a friend. Our landlady, actually.”

  Except she was so much more than that. Ever since my uncle had been diagnosed with late-stage pulmonary hypertension, she had been an angel, delivering meals when I couldn’t cook for him and grocery shopping or checking the mail when he wasn’t well enough to get out. Sometimes she would just go up to his apartment and sit with him when he complained he was getting tired of his own company.

  “She called 9-1-1 complaining of chest pains, from what I understand. By the time we arrived, she said she was feeling better. She didn’t even want to go to the hospital, but her blood pressure was up and blood sugar was down, so they’re taking her as a precaution.”

  I smiled, relieved that she would be okay. “You’re not really supposed to tell me all this, are you?” He wasn’t a doctor, but I assumed he must be bound by the same code of ethics.

  He grinned, reminding me how handsome he was. “I was hoping I could talk you into going for a cup of coffee with me. Figured you wouldn’t say yes if you thought I was a tight-ass.”

  I laughed and covered my mouth when I realized I shouldn’t be laughing at a time like this. “Thanks for the info.” I lowered my hand to offer a smile that I hoped would soften my rejection. “But I don’t have much time for a social life these days.”

  “Why is that?” he asked, leaning against his squad car. “A woman as beautiful as you can’t stay holed up in her apartment all the time. That’s just not right.”

  I zeroed in on his soft hazel eyes, noting the lines that fanned out when he smiled. I suspected he was about ten years older than me, which didn’t bother me per se. Under better circumstances, I would have enjoyed getting to know him better.

  “I work from home,” I explained, folding my arms. “And care for my sick uncle, which doesn’t allow time for much else.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your uncle,” he said, touching my forearm. “Is it serious?”

  “I’m afraid so.” According to the last so-called specialist we’d seen, who had virtually no bedside manner, my uncle was a ticking time bomb.

  “Being a caregiver isn’t easy, is it?” At my questioning look, he said, “My father passed a few years ago. We had to put my mother in a long-term care facility when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. She was living with us, but since my wife and I were both working all day—”

  “Your wife?” I asked, unable to hide my surprise. Just my luck—first nice guy I meet in ages turns out to married. Not that I was shocked. I had a knack for picking losers.

  “Ex-wife.” He chuckled. “Sorry, we’ve only been divorced six months. I’m still getting used to it, I guess.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t want to pry, but I wondered if he was having a hard time getting used to the idea because he hadn’t initiated the split.

  “She hooked up with my ex-partner,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe that?”

  “Ouch, I’m sorry.” I’d dated a cop once, and I knew that the bond between partners was usually unbreakable.

  He shrugged. “They had a long history. High school sweethearts, in fact. So I can’t say I was blindsided, like they were strangers and their only connection was me.”

  I was amazed how well he was taking their betrayal. Spoke volumes about how together he was. “Did you know him before you became partners, or was it just an unlucky coincidence?”

  “We all went to high school together,” he said, removing his hat and wiping the light sheen of sweat from his brow.

  He had sandy blond, close-cropped hair, almost the same color as his eyes, and he was tall, maybe a little over six feet, with an easy smile that made me feel comfortable. I really liked him. He was easy to talk to, and I wondered if I would be out of line proposing we get together as friends.

  “He and I were best friends. We joined the force at the same time and stayed close. His wife—”

  “He was married too?”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “She took it a hell of a lot harder than I did. I don’t know if she was in denial about their marriage or what, but when he came home and told her he wanted a divorce, she fell apart.” He cast a quick glance around. The other members of the response team had already dispersed. He was the only one left, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “It must be hard, thinking you’re going to spend your life with someone only to have them come home one day and tell you it’s over.”

  “It is hard,” he said, nodding. “But you get over it. What choice do you have, right?”

  “I guess so.” I glanced at my watch. “I really should get upstairs. I have to start dinner.” Extending my hand, I said, “It was nice to meet you…?”

  He laughed as he shook my hand. “I can’t believe I just told you my whole life story and I don’t even know your name.”

  I smiled. “I’m sure there’s more to tell. Maybe you could buy me that coffee sometime and fill me in on the rest?” When his eyes lit up, I released his hand and squeezed his forearm. “I meant what I said earlier. I don’t have time to date, but it might be nice to get out of the apartment every once in a while.”

  “I’m good with that.” He reached into his squad car for his cell phone. “Sorry, what did you say your name was?”

  “Skylar West, but my friends call me Sky.”

  “Sky.” He grinned as he typed my name into his phone. “I like that.” He handed me the phone. “I’ll let you type in your number. That way if you give me the wrong one, I can’t blame it on these.” He waved his thick thumbs, making me smile.

  “You know my name, where I live, and have ways to find out anything you want to know about me. You really think I’d give you a fake number?” I asked, handing him the phone as I eyed the nameplate affixed to his chest. “What’s your first name, Officer Price?”

  “Jarod.”

  “Well, it was nice to meet you, Jarod. But I really should be getting upstairs.”

  “Nice to meet you too. You know, I wasn’t even supposed to be work
ing tonight. I offered to cover a shift for a friend. But you just made me really glad I was the one who was here when you pulled up.”

  “I’m glad you were too.” I walked backward toward the entrance, offering a half wave. “See you later.”

  “Count on it.”

  ***

  My uncle was dozing on his lounge chair when I let myself into the apartment. He’d been doing that a lot lately. I wasn’t sure if it was the disease, boredom, or depression getting the best of him, but seeing a man who’d once been a beloved high school gym teacher and basketball coach “lying around, waiting to die” made me sad.

  “Hey,” he croaked, opening his eyes when he heard me close the door.

  I glanced at the oxygen tank beside him and noted he wasn’t using it. Maybe today was a good day and he felt he didn’t need it. The good days were fewer and farther between now, but I reminded myself to be grateful for each and every one.

  “Hey, yourself.” Seb’s sexy mug flashed across the screen, and my belly clenched. Too bad I hadn’t reacted the same way to Jarod. “Watching your favorite new show, I see.”

  “’Bout time they gave him his own show,” my uncle muttered. “Knows more about vintage cars than the rest of those yahoos claiming to be experts.”

  I’d read a few of Seb’s interviews in the car magazines my uncle left lying around the apartment, and I’d gotten the distinct impression the network had had to do a little arm-twisting to get him to agree to let cameras follow him around the shop all day. Thankfully I’d timed my visit just right. The last thing I wanted was for Uncle Charlie to know I’d gone to Seb.

  My uncle was a proud man who refused to take charity. When he found out I’d sold my little house to help pay for his medical bills, he’d nearly hit the roof. But I reminded him he would have done the same for me had our situations been reversed. We were family. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for him.

  “Did you hear the sirens?” I asked, sitting on the arm of “my chair”, as he called it.

  “No, must’ve been sleeping.”

  I wasn’t surprised. Uncle Charlie could have slept through a hail of gunfire most of the time. “They took Mrs. Ryan to the hospital.”

  Looking alarmed, he struggled to sit up. “No, not Flo.”

  “It’s okay.” I patted his forearm to calm him. Getting agitated wasn’t good for him. “She’s going to be fine. She didn’t even want to go to the hospital. They just took her as a precaution. I was thinking I might throw together a tuna casserole for dinner then go down to the hospital and see if she needs a lift home.”

  “Good idea,” he said. “After all she’s done for me, I wish I could do more for her.”

  “You know she does all that for you because she wants to. She doesn’t expect anything in return.”

  He sighed, leaning his head back as he closed his eyes. “I know. It’s just not easy, feeling like such a burden all the time. Some days, I wish this damn disease would take me already instead of making us all suffer this way.”

  I knelt beside his chair, squeezing his hand as tears prickled my eyes. “Listen to me—we agreed we would be grateful for every day God gave us, right?”

  He nodded, still looking glum.

  “If I get back early enough, why don’t I take you out for a walk before it gets dark? The fresh air would do you good.”

  The doctor had suggested buying an electric wheelchair or scooter to help Uncle Charlie get around, but unless the doctor intended to discount his services, there was no way we could afford one. So we made do with a manual wheelchair, which meant my uncle had to depend on me a lot more than he would have liked.

  “Don’t worry about me.” He pointed at the TV, which he’d paused with the remote. “I’ve got Seb here to keep me company.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the TV. Seb’s handsome face was frozen on the screen, a half smile tilting those full, kissable lips. “Why don’t you call a friend? One of your old coworkers from the school? They should be home from work by now. You know any one of them would love to hear from you.” And it’s better than wasting time watching TV.

  “Maybe later,” he said, pressing the button to resume the show. “This is just getting good.”

  I walked toward the door, pausing in the doorframe as I pretended to watch the show. I wanted to believe he would take me up on my suggestion and reach out to a friend, but I knew he wouldn’t. He was isolating himself more and more as the disease got a firmer grip on him, and I hated to see it. He had been the fun, outgoing one. “The life of the party,” his colleagues had always said. I wanted to see that man again, not a shadow of him wasting away in a recliner with his eyes glued to the idiot box.

  ***

  “You know you didn’t have to come get me, dear,” Mrs. Ryan said, patting my leg as I drove out of the hospital parking lot.

  “Nonsense. It’s the least I could do after all you’ve done for us. I would have followed the ambulance to the hospital, but I had to check on Uncle Charlie first.”

  “How is the stubborn old fool today?” she asked, her smile revealing a slightly chipped front tooth.

  “He’s doing okay.”

  “Sitting around feeling sorry for himself, if I know him.”

  I curled my hand around the steering wheel. Mrs. Ryan had never been shy about speaking her mind. It was one of the many things I loved about her, but my first instinct was always to defend my uncle. “With all due respect, Mrs. Ryan, this hasn’t been easy on him. The doctor’s prognosis has been pretty grave, and he’s experiencing a lot of discomfort—”

  “He’s not dead yet,” she said, folding her arms over her ample chest with a huff. “But you sure as hell wouldn’t know it to look at him. As soon as those doctors slapped an expiration date on him, it’s like he’s been counting down the days.”

  I gaped at our landlady, unable to believe what I was hearing. “It can’t be easy to get that kind of news.”

  “I’ll grant you that, but he still had a choice: life or death. He chose death.”

  “I don’t think he chose it,” I said, getting angry on his behalf. “He didn’t do anything to contribute to this. They don’t know the cause of pulmonary hypertension, only that—”

  “That’s not what I mean,” she said, waving off my explanation. “Medical miracles happen all the time. Why couldn’t he be one of them?”

  I gave her a confused look. “What do you mean?”

  “When he told me the news, I gave him a bunch of books to read.” She shrugged, her lips pursed.

  “What kind of books?”

  “Just books about people living with their disease, not dying from it. Some about natural healing. Just trying to give him some hope, to let him know that all isn’t lost until he decides it is.”

  No one wanted to hold on to hope more than I did, but that was difficult in the face of the doctor’s pessimism. According to his physician, my uncle’s death was inevitable, and it was a question of preparing for it. Was I wrong to let Uncle Charlie accept his fate without trying to keep his spirits up or offer him hope? I’d been trying to respect his wishes and follow his lead, reasoning that I couldn’t possibly understand what he was feeling, but maybe he needed me to play the devil’s advocate, to help him see another possibility.

  “My husband lived with cancer for years before it finally took him,” Mrs. Ryan said, looking out the window. “But he had many happy, productive days long after doctors said he should have been gone. He never gave up, not on life. And I don’t think Charlie should either.” She sighed. “But of course, that’s not for me to say. He has to decide for himself the way he’s going to live out the rest of his days.”

  “You really care about him, don’t you?” I saw the shimmer of tears in her soft green eyes, and it finally dawned on me her reasons for being there for my uncle may have extended beyond neighborly concern.

  “Of course I do.”

  “Have you told him how you feel?”

  Uncle Charlie
had had his heart broken once, many years ago, when his fiancé left him a Dear John letter before taking off with their next-door neighbor. Ever since then, he’d refused to try again, claiming he didn’t need the headache of a relationship.

  “What would be the point?” she asked. “He’s already made up his mind about everything. There’s no getting through to him.”

  I would have given anything to see my uncle have some happiness in his final days, but I couldn’t believe Mrs. Ryan would be willing to risk her heart on a man who may not be around to bring in another year. How incredibly brave of her. Looking at her now, I saw her in a completely different light. I’d always known she was independent and tough as nails, but putting her heart on the line, risking that kind of loss, was beyond courageous.

  “Do you want me to talk to him?”

  “Honey,” she said, offering a small smile, “you know your uncle better than anyone. Do you really think there’s anything either of us could say to make him change his mind about the way he spends his days? He could be out sitting in the park, watching the kids playing, listening to the birds chirping, experiencing life. Instead, he’s holed up in that damn apartment with the drapes drawn all day, waiting for the Grim Reaper to pay him a visit.”

  I agreed with her, but I didn’t think it was right to push him if he didn’t feel up to it. “We don’t know how he feels, Mrs. Ryan.”

  “I’ll tell you how he feels—sorry for himself,” she said, sounding disgusted. She raised a hand to silence me when I would have jumped to his defense. “I know this isn’t easy, but child, my son was hit by a car when he was ten years old. Those doctors, who thought they knew it all, said he’d never walk again.”

  I’d met her son and knew he was walking just fine today. “What happened?”

  “We decided to make up our minds about what his outcome would be. I made it my mission to keep his spirits up through the surgeries, the physical therapy—through it all. We never gave up. That boy had an iron will, and I’ll tell you, he taught me a hell of a lot about fighting the good fight no matter what life throws at you. I think that’s what got my husband through those years of living with cancer, remembering how brave our little boy had been.”