Chased

by Hazel James

  Shit.

  Getting a new phone wasn’t on my list of things to do this evening.

  I gather the larger pieces and set them in my console, then head to the Verizon store on the way to Eric’s house. My only consolation is that I won’t hear Whitney’s texts for the next couple of hours.

  When I arrive at the store, a salesman with Justin Bieber hair swarms me like a shark drawn to prey. After typing my number into his tablet, he tells me I’m eligible for an upgrade anyway.

  “Sure. Sounds good. I just need to make this quick. I have somewhere I need to be.”

  “It’s no problem.” He shakes the hair out of his eyes. “We’ll get everything transferred to your new phone, and you’ll be on your way.”

  “Thanks, man. It’s too bad you can’t give me a new number while you’re at it.” That would be the ultimate solution to Whitney’s barrage of text messages. I thought about blocking her, but I wouldn’t put it past her to contact me using one of her friends’ phones. Plus, the idea of starting fresh sounds nice. Whitney isn’t the only girl who calls or texts, and now that I have Paige, none of that is appealing anymore.

  “You can have a new number if you want. It’s an easy switch.”

  “Really?”

  He taps the tablet screen. “Yup. Do you want a number ending in 3846 or 7829?

  “I don’t care. Anything is better than the one I have now.”

  “Oh yeah?” he asks, flicking his hair again. “Why’s that?”

  “I just get a lot of telemarketers,” I lie. “I feel bad for whoever gets my number next.”

  As promised, I leave the store about thirty minutes later and send a quick message to Eric on my way to my truck.

  Me: Hey dickface. I have a new number. Also, I’m coming over. Make sure Shawshank doesn’t go anywhere.

  Eric: Sounds good. We’ll tie her up.

  I don’t bother knocking when I get to Eric’s and instead walk into the living room where he and Maggie are watching TV. “Where is she?”

  “Well, hello to you, too.” Eric puckers his lips in my direction.

  “Cute, but I don’t have time for that. I need to see Paige.”

  Sensing my desperation, Maggie smiles and says, “She’s reading in her room.” I stride toward the back of the house to the guest room just off the pool and knock softly.

  “Come in!”

  Part of me feels bad for ambushing her like this, but I doubt she’d hear me out otherwise. Not that I blame her. “Hey,” I say, opening the door.

  She gasps, but I hold up a hand before she can speak. “I owe you a huge apology. I was so focused on the goal of the auction that I didn’t stop to think about how that affected you.” Paige tucks her bookmark into her book, and reaches for her lip gloss, which makes me smile on the inside. She’s nervous, which means she’s more hopeful than angry. “I told Clay that I couldn’t accept Whitney’s money. Fifteen hundred bucks isn’t worth losing you.”

  Her jaw drops. “But what about the veterans? You kept saying how important that donation was.”

  “It was. Which is why I made the donation with my own money.” I launch Safari and go to PayPal, then pass my phone to Paige. Her lips form an O as she studies the screen.

  “That’s more than Whitney’s bid.” She hands my phone back to me and raises her eyebrows. “Does this mean you’re not going on a date with her?”

  I nod. “That means I’m not going on a date with her.” Relief washes over her face, and while I’m glad she feels better, I still feel like shit for putting her through that in the first place. “There’s something else I want to show you.” I type out a text message and hit send, and her phone sounds an alert seconds later.

  Me: I have a new number.

  She smiles and types a reply.

  Paige: Why do you have a new number?

  Me: Because I’m a one-woman man now.

  Paige: Won’t you miss all those X-rated texts?

  Me: The only thing I missed this week was you.

  Me: Which brings me to the last thing I came here to say.

  Me: I’m keeping the shirt I’m wearing.

  Paige: ???

  I take her hand and pull her into my arms, then wait for her eyes to meet mine so she can see the truth in my words. I am a mosaic, pieced together with glue and guilt, and somehow she seeped inside and repaired all of my broken parts. She healed me.

  “I’m keeping this shirt because it’s what I wore the first time I ever said, ‘I love you.’”

  THERE ARE SO MANY THINGS I want to remember about this moment: the masculine, freshly showered scent that fills me with each breath I take. The feel of his hands cocooning my face. The way his lips curved into the faintest of smiles right before he spoke. My head is spinning and my heart is racing, and all I want to do is repeat the words he just said. I can’t be certain when I fell in love with DH. Was it when we chased a tornado? Or when he showed up on my porch? Or was it all the moments in between?

  On the surface, he’s a broken man who chases storms to hide from the storms chasing him. Underneath, the shattered pieces of his life have transformed him into a stained-glass masterpiece. Where he sees weakness, I see strength. What he calls failure, I call survival.

  He’s the most beautiful kaleidoscope I’ve ever seen.

  I open my mouth to speak, but he puts his finger over my lips to silence me. “If I know Maggie, she’s dragging Eric to bed to make sure we have some privacy. Which is good, because I’m not done letting you know how I feel.” He separates us long enough to lock the door and turn off the lamp I was using to read.

  Soft blue ambient light filters in through the window facing the pool, bathing the room in the silvery reflection of water. DH lifts his shirt over his head and scoops me into his arms. Instinctively, my legs wrap around his lean waist and stay that way, even when he lies me on the bed and feasts on the skin below my jaw.

  “I missed how soft you are.” His nose teases the curve of my neck. When I squirm beneath him, he grinds into me, and the flash of friction sets my nerve endings on fire. Craving the burn, I slide my hands down the firm muscles of his back and grip his hips, desperate for more contact in the place I need it most. “I missed your cherry lips,” he whispers, ignoring my body’s physical pleas for the hardness I feel in his jeans. His mouth finds mine, and he gently sucks on my lower lip, capturing the low moan I can’t contain. If kisses are a foreign language, DH is fluent and more than willing to share his knowledge.

  His hand trails down my shirt and slips beneath the soft fabric. I wasn’t expecting company tonight, so he has a straight path to my breasts and wastes no time getting his fill. “I missed your tits,” he says with a smile. The sensation of his rough skin kneading and caressing my sensitive flesh makes me arch into him, and in a fit of impatience, I sit up enough to remove my shirt so he has complete access.

  DH traces circles around my nipples, then replaces his finger with his mouth, biting, nipping, suckling on each side as I whimper with need. Sliding down my body, he strings bearded kisses across my stomach, and when he reaches the waistband of my flannel pants, he grips the material and lowers it inch by inch, taking my panties with it, until all of me is bared to him.

  With the watery light of the pool, I see the look of pure wonder on DH’s face before he eases my legs apart and lowers himself to my wet core. “I missed the sweet way you taste.” He licks at my folds and runs his tongue over my clit, humming with delight when I buck my hips in response. My hands fist in his hair, which only encourages him. Sensing my need, he slides two fingers inside me, and I clamp my lips in my teeth to keep from crying out in pleasure.

  With a final stroke, DH stands up, tosses his wallet on the bed, and releases the button of his jeans, letting them drop in a pile on the floor. “I missed everything about you, but most of all, I missed the way you make me feel. You push out all the bad. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully deserve you, but I promise I’ll keep trying every day for as long a
s you let me.” He sinks down next to me and reaches for the foil packet tucked inside his wallet.

  Now it’s my turn to speak.

  “No,” I say, my voice husky with desire, as I nudge his wallet off the side of the bed close my hand around his. “Just us.” He exhales and bends his head to mine, kissing me like I’ve just given him the greatest gift in the world.

  Still joined at the mouth, he swings his leg over and guides his cock inside me. The first skin-on-skin thrust has me clawing at his back. Nothing could have prepared me for the way he feels above me. Beside me. In me. He’s everywhere, dominating all my senses at once.

  “I love you, Paige,” he whispers, reaching his hand between us to connect with my clit. My body is a powder keg, and he’s the torch, and together we play with fire until we explode into a million beautiful pieces.

  “I love you, too.”

  My muscles are deliciously sore the next morning, making me look like the Tin Man in need of oil as I hobble to the kitchen.

  “Sleep well?” Maggie smirks from the couch.

  “I don’t know about the sleep part, but everything else went well.” I toss a shit-eating grin over my shoulder and load a K-cup in the Keurig. Iced coffee is my poison of choice, but I’m desperate enough for caffeine that I’ll take the regular stuff to get me going for the day. After dumping a metric shit-ton of sugar and creamer into my mug, I join Maggie and Austin in the living room where he’s building a Lego fortress that’s both impressive and terrifying. I ended up on the wrong side of one of those landmines yesterday morning, and the bottom of my foot still hasn’t forgiven me.

  “I haven’t seen DH that happy in the morning in… ever. He almost skipped out of here.” Maggie laughs and winces. “Damnit, now I have to pee again.”

  “What time did he leave? I don’t remember him getting out of bed.”

  “Around eight. He said he tried to wake you, but you were out cold.”

  “It was a late night. Lots and lots of talking.”

  “Mmm hmm.” She gives me a playful side-eye. In all fairness, there was some talking. DH told me there’d been no updates on the Sheila case since he dropped off the homeless fortune at the police station. Because of that, he still doesn’t want me staying at home at night by myself. He said I could keep staying at Eric and Maggie’s or crash at his place until things died down. “So do you need any help packing?”

  “Pardon me?” I ask, choking on my coffee.

  “DH said he convinced you to stay with him, at least until Ali gets back.”

  “If by convincing, he meant a heaping dose of brown puppy dog eyes, then yes, he’s a master of persuasion,” I laugh. “But I just have the one small bag, so I’m good. Thanks for letting me take over your guestroom for the last few days.”

  “Please, it’s been nice having another girl in the house for a change.” The doorbell rings, and Maggie struggles to lift herself off the couch. “Would you get that?” she pants. “They’ll be halfway down the road again by the time I get up.”

  Setting my mug on the coffee table, I open the front door and find two burly men on the porch. “Hi, we’re here for the rockers?”

  “Ummm…” Huh?

  “In here!” Maggie calls. Still unsure of what she’s talking about, I lead the way back to the living room. “One is right there, and the other one is in the nursery off the master bedroom.” She points down the hallway off the kitchen.

  “Thanks, ma’am,” the one in the red shirt says. They split up, and in less than five minutes, they’re driving away in their truck and Maggie’s purse is four hundred dollars heavier.

  What in the hell just happened? “You sold Whitney’s gift?” I grab my mug and take several gulps of coffee; clearly I haven’t had enough caffeine yet.

  Maggie nods unapologetically and maneuvers herself off the couch. “One day that hussy will learn to not mess with the Rhoads clan.”

  “I appreciate the show of solidarity, but I’m not a part of the Rhoads clan.” She gives me a knowing look and tells Austin to clean up his Legos so she can drop him off at his grandma’s house.

  “And you,” she points to me, “get dressed. We have some shopping to do.”

  Maggie might have been slow moving at home, but you get that girl in Target and she comes alive. Sales racks and the dollar bins are her lifeblood, and she just had a three-hour infusion. I’m used to being on my feet at work, but damn, do you know what it’s like to be out-shopped by a pregnant woman nearing her the end of her third trimester?

  It’s embarrassing.

  We trek across the parking lot with three red carts—me pushing one and pulling the other, and Maggie bringing up the rear with the last.

  “Hey, I think your phone is ringing.” She points to my purse in the cart she’s pushing. I steer our convoy off to the side and grab my phone. “Oh, God. It’s the hospital.” I haven’t heard from HR since I gave my statement on Monday, and they said they expected to be done by the end of the week. It’s Friday afternoon at three forty-three.

  How nice of them to wait until the last minute.

  “Hello?” I pin my phone between my ear and shoulder and push the carts the last ten feet to Maggie’s SUV. She opens the lift gate and transfers the lighter bags into the back while keeping a watchful eye on me.

  “Hi, Miss Landry. This is Benjamin Winter in Barton Human Resources. I wanted to let you know we’ve completed your investigation. Are you available to come in so we can go over everything?”

  “Of course. I’ll be down there as soon as I can.” I end the call and say a word of prayer. I’m out of my ninety-day probation window, but that doesn’t give me much comfort. “Maggie, could you do me a huge favor and drop me off at the hospital so I can see if I still have a job? I can catch an Uber back to your house.”

  She shakes her head. “I’ll drop you off, but you’re not Ubering back. I’ll wait for you.”

  “I don’t know long it’ll take though.”

  “We didn’t buy anything cold. Besides, I could use a quick nap before dinnertime.” She laughs and starts the car to get the air conditioner going while I unload the rest of our haul: one new toy storage system for Austin, eight fabric bins, three bags full of pajama pants and nursing gear, and half of the diaper and baby wipes aisle. Even more impressive—Maggie still has twenty-three bucks left from her rocking chair sale.

  It’s like having twenty-three middle fingers left to throw at Whitney. Depending on how my meeting with HR goes, I might need them.

  “What do I do if they fire me?” I chew my bottom lip as I consider my options. I don’t have many bills, but I do need some sort of income. So far, I’ve been lucky. My admin leave has been paid. But according to hospital policy, I have to pay that back if I’m terminated.

  “They won’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Maggie’s voice is so sure and calm. That makes exactly one of us.

  “But what if they do? I’ll be a nurse with a scarlet letter on her chest looking for a job. Allison’s getting serious with her boyfriend and stays at his house most nights of the week. If she moves in with him, my free-rent situation goes away, and then what? Holy fuck, I hate Whitney.” I wish her asshole would grow taste buds, but even that doesn’t seem harsh enough.

  “Everything is going to be fine. I promise. If they do fire you, you can stay with us again, or stay with DH. Truth be told, he’d probably love that. Well,” she glances at me, “not the getting fired part, but the part about you moving in with him.”

  I can’t help but smile at that. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’ll be here when you’re done.” I look out the window and realize we’re in the front of the hospital. Releasing a deep breath, I open the door and head toward Human Resources. The benefit of working the night shift in the emergency room is that I’m rarely on this side of the hospital. No one looks familiar, which means no one is looking at me like I’m a harlot.

  I walk into the HR suite and stop outside the second o
ffice on the left. “Mr. Winter?” I say, knocking lightly on the doorframe.

  “Miss Landry, please come in.” He gestures to the chair opposite his desk. I sit and cross my fingers in my lap, because that always brought me good luck when I was a kid. “Thank you for coming in on such short notice. As you know, your investigation was because of an anonymous complaint—”

  Why the hell is he going over all of this again? We both know why I’m here. I’d rather not rehash the details of a false report from a nurse who wouldn’t know ethics if it slapped her in the face. “Excuse me, Mr. Winter,” I ask, ripping the Band-Aid off. “Could you please tell me if I have a job or not?”

  He pauses, and then smiles. “Yes, you still have a job. We interviewed several of your co-workers and asked whether they recalled any inappropriate incidents involving any hospital employee during the shift in question. None of them did. Moreover, we reviewed security camera footage and confirmed that Mr. Rhoads was not a patient that morning. This concludes your investigation. You are free to return to your normal shift, which begins tonight.”

  On one hand, I’m beyond relieved to hear I’m not fired. On the other, I’m going to be absolutely exhausted tomorrow morning. Fucking Whitney.

  I dial DH’s number on the way back to Maggie’s house and interrupt him as he answers.

  “I have my job back!” I squeal.

  “Fuck yeah! That’s awesome, babe!” I can hear the smile in his voice, which makes me grin even more. We don’t stay on the phone long. He’s in the middle of an engine overhaul or something like that, and I need to get Maggie’s stuff unloaded and get ready for work, but I give myself a few minutes to savor the fact that in this moment, I have it all.

  First, the whirlwind shopping extravaganza at Target, then a thirteen-hour shift in the emergency room. Jesus, I’m beat. The energy drink I chugged at three in the morning wore off an hour ago, and I can hear my sheets calling my name all the way from the hospital parking lot. I could’ve stayed at DH’s since the guys are on their way to Muskogee for Robbie’s funeral, but the idea of sinking into my own bed until dinnertime is too appealing. DH made me promise to keep the doors locked just in case and said he’d stop over if they got back before I leave for work tonight.