by Shayla Black
But if he’d given her a choice between scrumptious food and him…she would definitely have chosen Seth.
Instead, she’d opened her mouth, been too honest, and chased him away. Raine said he’d gone back to New York that same night. Heavenly was saddened more than surprised.
Her apology text to him had garnered a minimal reply, a politer version of whatever. It stung, but worse, she felt somehow incomplete without his charm, his easy manner, his way of making her feel like a woman. Maybe, like he’d said, it was for the best. But it didn’t feel that way, even after weeks had passed. Even though she loved spending time with Beck.
That confused her, too.
Her father’s low moan of pain snapped her out of her reverie. She knew his sounds, and this wasn’t his usual morning, full-bladder moan. Something was wrong.
She dashed across the room, flipping on the kitchen light, which illuminated the apartment, then took her father’s shaky outstretched hand. “Where does it hurt?”
“My stomach. My head. It’s hard to move my legs. And I’m having trouble breathing,” he wheezed.
Her heart nearly stopped. “Do you want your breakfast and your pills? Or do we need to go to the hospital?”
“No. No… Give me my morning pills. I’m sure they’ll help.”
Maybe, but she wasn’t convinced. “I’ll get your walker and help you to the bathroom, then get your food going. You dizzy?”
He nodded, and as she sat him up, he wobbled. “A little.”
Dread hit her. Was he having another relapse? Please, no. She feared his frail system couldn’t withstand that and she was nowhere near ready to lose him. Forty-six was way too young to die.
But is he really living now?
She shoved the awful question from her head, then hustled to his walker and helped him to his feet. The trip to the bathroom was a mere six feet—and an excruciating five minutes. When she finally got him inside and turned on the light, she helped him to the toilet, turning her head as he pushed his pajama shirt aside and settled on the commode.
“Goddamn it, I hate this for you, Heavenly,” he croaked out. “I’m sorry.”
How could he worry about her at a time like this? “Don’t apologize. I hate this for you way more. Tell me what I can get you. I brought home the paper someone left behind last night.”
“That would be good.” As she dashed off to find it, he called after her. “I don’t like you working at that hospital until the middle of the night.”
He’d like her working at the smoky bar in a skimpy crop top and a short skirt even less, so she spared him that detail. “I’m only doing it twice a week now that school is back in session. The money is too good to pass up.”
As she entered the bathroom again, he was shaking his head. “Be careful out there, sweetheart. I worry about you on the bus so late at night.”
She handed him the paper, trying not to show him that her heart was breaking. Just a few months ago, he’d been able to help himself to the bathroom most days. Now it was rare he could reach the toilet without her assistance.
“I’m a big girl. Did you manage a bowel movement yesterday?”
He closed his eyes. “We shouldn’t have to talk about this.”
“Well, we do. Your condition and the pain meds together constipate you, I know. You need to be honest with me and—”
“No. I didn’t.”
She pursed her lips together. “When was the last—”
“Three days ago.”
“Dad!”
“I’ll work on it. Maybe…get me one of those laxatives with my breakfast.”
The over-the-counter meds didn’t do much, but she had to try. If she could stabilize him, maybe he wouldn’t need a visit to the hospital…
“I’ll head to the kitchen and get everything ready.” She bustled over to the table beside his bed, then grabbed his phone, setting it on the counter beside him. “Text me when you’re done.”
He looked humiliated and frail and ready to give up. “Yeah. Go.”
With a fretful sigh, Heavenly ducked out, shutting the door behind her. She needed to pee, but that was the least of her problems now. Absently, she collected his pills and started peeling his hard-boiled eggs, all the while gnawing her lip.
If he had to go to the hospital, it would eat up every bit of her extra funds. And how would she get him there? If she had to pay for an ambulance, it might bankrupt her. The volunteer who had sat with him when she’d gone to Disneyland was out of town. Beck? No. She wasn’t his responsibility, and she didn’t want his pity. Heavenly thought of calling Raine. But the woman was pregnant and still dealing with the trauma of her father’s attack. During their last conversion, she’d sounded down and admitted that Hammer wasn’t dealing with the situation well. The last thing her friend needed was more problems.
She was boiling water for some oatmeal when she heard a groan and an ominous thud from the bathroom. “Dad?”
No answer.
After shoving the measuring cup and cardboard canister on the counter, she turned off the stove and raced to the closed door. “Dad? Are you okay?”
Still nothing.
Dread biting her composure, she gripped the knob. Her fingers shook as she cracked the door open. The creaking hinges shredded her nerves, but she didn’t want to violate his privacy or dignity any more than she had to.
When she poked her head in, she found him sprawled out across the floor. “Dad!”
Shaking him frantically elicited a low groan. “Boo.”
He was barely conscious.
“What happened?”
“Dizzy.” His body twitched, and he gave a pained moan. “Fell.”
His blood pressure must be way off. His pain was becoming unmanageable. Her father hated to admit these things, but she knew the signs.
“We need to go to the hospital.”
“No.” He shook his head weakly. “Help me to bed. I’ll be fine.”
How did he expect her to do that? She was young and healthy, but he still outweighed her. And he was practically dead weight right now.
“I’m going to need help, Dad.”
“Sure. I can—” Suddenly, he doubled over, clutched his stomach, and let out a terrible wail.
Heavenly felt utterly useless. “I’ll get help.” She had no idea from where. “I’ll get you to the hospital.”
He couldn’t even answer; he was writhing on the floor, too caught up in agony.
Panicked, she rushed into the main room and rifled through the plastic chest that contained the few clothes she owned. When she flung open one of the drawers, her mom’s old sewing machine, which she’d propped on top, nearly wobbled over. After steadying it, she dragged on a pair of yoga pants, an oversized T-shirt, and some sandals. She shoved her bra in her purse and set it on the sofa beside the door. She’d slip it on as soon as she delivered her dad into safe hands. Then she let herself outside, shivering at the predawn chill, as she scanned her neighbors’ windows. She didn’t know any of these people, but maybe one of them would feel sorry enough for her dad to help them…
The only light on belonged to their landlord, Mr. Sanchez. He was at least ten years her senior and the way he looked at her made her vaguely uncomfortable. But none of that mattered now. He had a car.
Dashing through the dark morning, she crossed the courtyard and began to pound on his door. “Help! Please…”
A long minute later, he wrenched it open with a disgruntled scowl…that he quickly righted when he caught sight of her.
They weren’t particularly friendly. She’d only seen him a few times since they moved in, but if he was willing to help right now, she didn’t care.
“Hi, Mr. Sanchez. I’m sorry to—”
“What is it?”
“I need to borrow your car or ask if you could drive my father and me to the hospital.”
“I just made coffee.”
“I’m sorry. I know it’s early. But it’s an emergency and—”
“Thank you.” She grabbed the man’s arm in a thankful gesture.
He sidled closer. His eyes turned dark. His stare dipped and lingered. “I’m happy to help you. Let me pull the car around.”
“Actually, I need help lifting him off the floor. Can you…”
He set his coffee on a table near the door. “Show me where he is.”
With a bobbing nod of relief, she rushed back across the courtyard, making a vague mental note to grab a coat to protect her from the stiff wind. Suddenly, she realized the cold had hardened her nipples.
Normally, she would have been embarrassed. She had been at the art gallery. Beck had been too polite to stare…but she had a feeling he’d noticed. Seth, on the other hand, would probably have given her a knowing smile, maybe “accidentally” brushed his hand against them. He seemed like the sort of guy who would seek forgiveness way before he asked for permission.
Not that it mattered now. Nothing did except her dad.
As she reached the door to her apartment, she flung it open. “Dad!”
Please be alive. Please be conscious. Please hold on.
“Here,” he managed to choke.
She turned to find Mr. Sanchez behind her, his stare raking her. Was he really staring at her butt at a time like this?
“Follow me.” She directed him to the bathroom.
Her landlord wasn’t a terribly tall guy, but he was bulky, maybe had even been brawny once. He’d still have a much better chance of getting her dad off the floor and into his car.
Mr. Sanchez recoiled. “Ugh. You didn’t tell me he’d be half-naked. Don’t you have any pants, old man?”
“He was worried about relieving himself, not going to a fashion show,” she snapped.
The guy flipped her a surprised glance. “Uh, yeah. Okay. Where am I taking him?”
“The VA.”
Her landlord didn’t look thrilled but he lifted her dad to his feet and propped him up with the walker while Heavenly fetched him a robe and slippers. It would cover the essentials.
Within a few minutes, she helped her father to the curb. Mr. Sanchez waited inside, revving the engine, until she eased her father into the front seat and folded up his walker. As soon as she chucked it into the backseat and climbed in behind her dad, her landlord sped off.
They reached the hospital blessedly fast since rush hour was still relatively thin. They took him back surprisingly quickly. As soon as Heavenly filled out a few forms and talked to one of the nurses, she had nothing to do but wait. She found the bathroom, finally relieved herself, put on her bra, then went to find Mr. Sanchez.
In the waiting area, he lounged out, ankles crossed and hand clasped over his bloated belly, staring at the morning news he couldn’t hear because the sound had been muted in favor of closed captioning. He looked up when she entered, stare intent.
They were alone.
Heavenly sank gingerly to the chair beside him. He made her more than a little nervous. “Thank you for bringing us here. You don’t have to wait around. It will be hours before—”
“What’s he got?”
“A rare autoimmune disease.” She didn’t go into details. He already seemed bored by the short answer.
“Huh.” He shrugged. “So that’s why he doesn’t work and you do?”
She nodded, though she didn’t see why he cared as long as she paid the rent. “Yes. Look, I’m sorry to have disturbed you so early in the morning. But I really, really appreciate your help. I’m so grateful.”
He sat up, leaned across the thin wooden arm separating their chairs, and raised a brow. “How grateful?”
Heavenly shrank back, putting some distance between them. She knew where this conversation was going. “More than you know. And I can give you fifty dollars for your trouble.”
It almost killed her to part with what little reserve she’d tucked away in the sofa cushion back home after last night’s shifts. But it was damn cheaper than an ambulance. She prayed Mr. Sanchez took it.
“Fifty bucks?” He scoffed. “Keep it. If it will help you, chica…”
“That’s generous. Thank you again.” Maybe she’d figure out how to get a taxi back home. Every warning instinct she possessed told her to steer clear of this man.
“I can be very generous.” He edged closer, skimming his knuckles across her cheek.
She shuddered. It wasn’t the first time a man had touched her face—Beck and Seth both had—but it was the first time she’d been afraid.
“Mr. Sanchez…” With her back already plastered to the chair that was flush with the wall, she really didn’t have anywhere to escape except to her feet.
When she would have leapt up, he grabbed her shoulder and held her down. “Extremely generous, in fact. You ever have trouble paying the rent? I can let it slide for a month or two.” He grinned.
“Really?” Was he kidding? That would be a godsend. “You’d do that?”
“Absolutely, chica. For you, yes. All you have to do is swing by and spend some…quality time with me.”
Heavenly narrowed her eyes. Was she understanding him correctly? “Doing what?”
He gave her an ambivalent shrug she didn’t believe for a second. “You know… You’re a pretty thing. You’d look fine in my bed.”
“I’m a virgin,” she blurted, shaking her head.
His smile widened. “Even better. It’s been a few years since I’ve had a cherry pie, and I’ll bet I’ve never had one as sweet as yours.”
She gasped and recoiled, mentally berating herself for thinking this man might have the decency to respect her innocence. “I, um…have a boyfriend.”
It wasn’t totally untrue. She hoped.
“Then he’s either gay or blind, because if you’re a virgin, he’s not getting the job done. I will, chica. I’ll get you done good.” He moaned and flexed his hips, sending her what he must think was a smoldering stare.
She nearly choked.
Never. Ever. She’d live on the streets before she let this man touch her.
You might, but what about Dad?
She shoved down the question. “Well, as it happens, I have the rent money early this month so…thanks very much for the offer. I’m going to go check on my father.” She dodged his next attempt to grab her and stood. “We appreciate the ride. I’ll find us a way home. Bye.”
As she charged for the exit, she nearly hit the door face first in her haste to escape. On the other side, she dragged in a calming breath and pressed a shaking hand to her chest. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with her dad, how she was going to get home, or how she’d continue to make rent every month with their bank balance running lower and lower. She’d have to skip the fall semester of school. Work more, save more, then maybe go back the following spring. She hated to keep putting off her future, but he was her father. She’d always been able to count on him. He needed to be able to count on her now.
“Ms. Young?”
She snapped around to find a familiar doctor coming her way, a resident who’d assisted Dad’s neurologist before. “Yes.”
“Come this way. You father is asking to see you.”
“How is he? What’s going on with him? What can you tell me?”
He took her elbow. Regret crossed his face before he even opened his mouth. “He’s had a relapse. I’m afraid it’s not good.”
Eight hours later, he was stable enough to come home with her. Heavenly suspected that was mostly because they didn’t want to waste a bed on someone who would never get well. The nursing staff wheeled him to the hospital door. She clutched new prescriptions in her hand she feared would cost a fortune. Then slowly, they walked to the bus. She knew it took all his energy and hoped he could muster a bit more when they reached the closest stop to home. If not, she didn’t know what she’d do.
“The landlord couldn’t bring us home?” he asked, looking pale and spent.
Guilt assailed Heavenly.
He should be resting in bed, and she was making him walk. But even if she chose to use her small cash reserve on a taxi, the money did her no good when it was at home.
“He was busy this afternoon. I’ll make macaroni and cheese tonight to make it up to you.”
“Don’t you have someplace to be with that friend from the hospital? What’s his name?”
“Dr. Beckman.” She shook her head. “He had to cancel. Emergency.”
More like the other way around, since she’d texted him an hour before they’d been due to meet and told him that the old man in her apartment building needed her help and she was so sorry to bail. Beck had sounded supportive, if disappointed. But if she admitted any of that to her father, he’d only feel worse.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
She shrugged. “I have an exam to finish.” Thank goodness she’d emailed her instructor, who had been both empathetic and accommodating. She had until Monday to take the test now. “Besides, I’d always rather spend the evening with you.”
For the first time in her life, that wasn’t true. She itched to be with Beck, anticipated seeing him like a kid looking forward to a favorite movie. And if she were honest, she craved the chance to see Seth again, at least long enough to explain what she’d meant that fateful day. Since neither of those things were going to happen, she pasted on a smile, patted her father’s hand as the bus lumbered its way closer to their stop, and held in her tears.
CHAPTER TEN
Almost a week later, Beck paced the small waiting room at the University Medical Center in Las Vegas. It was the best level-one trauma hospital in the city. He should know; he’d interned at the facility.
He slanted a worried glance over at Buddy. “Tell me again what happened. Exactly.”
Just as he’d finished his shift at the hospital earlier this evening, Buddy had called, sounding shocked and frantic, blurting that Gloria had been attacked. Beck had tossed a few necessities into a duffel, then jockeyed through the last of rush hour to speed across the desert and reach Gloria’s side. She was still in surgery. It had been hours, and he was doing his best not to crawl out of his skin.
