Chased

by Hazel James

  Part of me hopes they get caught in traffic on the way home just so I can sleep longer.

  Reaching my car, I crank the engine and bring Ruby to life—coughing and sputtering, but she’s alive nonetheless—when my phone rings. I feel around the bottom of my purse and answer just before the call goes to voicemail. “Hey, Maggie, what’s up?”

  “Do you think it’s okay for me to take Motrin for a headache? My OB’s office doesn’t open for another hour and I can’t wait that long to ask.”

  “I’m pretty sure pregnant women are supposed to stick to Tylenol.”

  “Shit,” she groans. “I’ve already taken that. It didn’t work.”

  “How long has your head hurt?”

  “Since about one forty-five this morning. It woke me up and hasn’t gone away since. I’m supposed to take Austin on a play date this morning, but that’s not going to happen if I can’t get the twenty-piece percussion section in my head to quiet down.”

  My nursing instincts kick in, pushing aside the bone-deep exhaustion I felt moments ago. “Have you had any issues with your blood pressure lately?”

  “My doctor put me on medicine a couple of months ago because it was elevated, but it’s been fine since. I even had a non-stress test last week, and he said it was okay.”

  “That’s good.” I keep my tone casual. “Did Eric leave with Uncle Kurt and DH?”

  “Yeah, about an hour ago.”

  “Okay. Hang tight. I’ll be right there.” I end the call and immediately dial Aunt Helen’s number.

  “Well good morning, dear!” Her cheerfulness makes me feel bad for calling. I don’t want to alarm her, but I need a babysitter.

  “Hi, Aunt Helen. Maggie just called me and said she has a bad headache. Would you mind watching Austin for a little while so I can take her to get checked out? It’s probably nothing, but having her seen would make me feel better.”

  “Oh goodness, is she okay?”

  “I’m sure she is. This is more of a precaution, and hopefully the doctors can give her something for her headache. I’m just now getting off work and will head over to Maggie’s. Do you want to meet us there?”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  I end up pulling in to the driveway right before Aunt Helen. Even with the help of my GPS, I made one wrong turn. In my defense, it kept telling me to turn south, and who in the hell knows what direction south is?

  “Knock, knock!” I call, pushing the front door open.

  “Paige! And Grandma!” Austin jumps up from his pile of Legos and greets us both with a hug. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came here to kidnap you,” Aunt Helen giggles. “I’m going to take you home and force you to eat cookies.” Austin whoops with delight and plops on the floor of the entryway to put his shoes on without any prompting.

  “Mom?” Maggie shuffles out of her bedroom wearing yesterday’s hairdo and makeup and squints at the light from the living room windows. “What are you doing here?”

  “I called her so she could take Austin for the day. I’m taking you up to labor and delivery so they can check you out.”

  “It’s just a headache.”

  “I know, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Austin, give your mom a hug and kiss. She’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

  Maggie leans down, and he places a kiss on her cheek, then he wraps his tiny arms around her belly and gives that a kiss, too. “Bye Mom! Bye baby!”

  I give Aunt Helen a reassuring pat on the arm. “We’ll give you a call as soon as we know something.” Once the front door shuts, I turn to Maggie. “Go put some pants on while I make a cup of coffee.”

  “You sure are bossy today,” she grumbles, waddling to the bedroom. She returns wearing a scowl and pair of black sweatpants that I think belong to Eric and plucks her sunglasses out of the wooden bowl on the island.

  “Do you want me to call the guys and let them know we’re going to Barton?” I ask, taking the driver’s seat of Maggie’s SUV.

  “Nah, no sense in worrying anyone yet.”

  Maggie’s words as we left her house echo through my head three hours later while I haphazardly throw on a blue surgical gown and booties. She went from having pre-eclampsia to having a seizure, and now there’s no time to call anyone.

  Even if there was, they wouldn’t get here in time anyway.

  The operating room is cold, and despite my training, I feel out of place. “Where do I stand?” I ask one of the four nurses in the room.

  “Right here. Just make sure you stay behind the curtain.” The mask hides her smile, but I see the corners of her eyes crinkle before she gives the doctor her full attention. I take comfort in that. If she’s not worried, then I shouldn’t be either, right? I push my emotions aside and pretend I’m not standing next to one of my best friends. She’s a patient, I’m a nurse, and I have full faith in the team buzzing around the room.

  I position myself at her head. “Okay, Maggie. I’m here. You’re going to be just fine.” She’s under anesthesia, but I talk to her like she can hear me. I concentrate on keeping my voice as sure and calm as hers was yesterday when she drove me to the hospital. I’ll have time to fall apart later, but right now, I’m all Maggie has. I need to be strong for us both.

  I’VE LEARNED A LOT ABOUT miracles. Sometimes, they’re huge, like an F4 tornado that turns before it can take the life of one distraught veteran in a field, and other times, they’re only nineteen inches long.

  Jordan Lynne Rhoads is a miracle.

  Despite her rocky start to life, she’s doing well. Maggie’s doctor kept her in the hospital for a week, and Jordan was released twelve days after that. Everyone fell in love with her, including DH, who holds her every chance he gets. I won’t lie—seeing him cradling a five-pound baby has been the death of my ovaries. Of course, that also happens whenever I see him naked, like he is right now.

  Hi, my name is Paige, and my reproductive system has a recurring role on The Walking Dead.

  “Which one should I wear? This,” he holds up a blue plaid button shirt, “or this?” He lifts a black polo.

  “I’m perfectly fine with what you have on,” I say, swinging my feet off the edge of his bed. I manage to keep a straight face for all of three seconds before erupting in a fit of giggles.

  “I’m serious, babe. I’ve never met anyone’s parents before.” He sighs and drops his arms. “I want make a good first impression.” Worry lines sprout between his brows, and it makes me want to smother his face in kisses. He’s so damn adorable.

  “Mom and Dad are going to love you, I promise.” With the willpower of a bodybuilder in a bakery, I ignore his nakedness and take both shirts from him. “It’s a barbecue, not a formal event. Wear something you’re comfortable in.” I hook both hangers on the rod in his closet and pull down a pair of cargo shorts and his new t-shirt from the Oklahoma Shirt Company. “Here.”

  “I still can’t believe you signed me up for a t-shirt of the month club,” he laughs.

  I smile and smack his ass on the way back to his bed. “Just think of all the new memories we get to make.” I flop down and grab my book off the nightstand to make use of my time while he finishes getting ready. Halfway through the first page, I feel someone staring at me. “Can I help you?” I ask, lowering my book.

  “Actually, I think you can.” He plucks my book from my hand and reaches for the button on my shorts.

  “Are you serious right now?” I playfully bat his hand, but that only encourages him.

  “Do you know what I was just thinking about? A prudish girl at Cattlemen’s who swore she’d never be caught dead in my bed.” He makes quick work of the button and zipper. “She swore if she screamed my name, it would be to get the attention of the police. I think it’s time we put that theory to the test.” His wicked gleam sets my blood buzzing, and I find myself helping him undress the rest of me.

  “We have to leave in ten minutes.” It’s a breathless warning, but he’s not fa
zed. Not even close.

  “I only need five.” He’s already fisting his cock, the muscles in his arms and abs flexing with each stroke as his hungry eyes take in their next meal. We’ve made love before, and I’ve been with other guys in the past, but I’ve never felt so wanted—needed—as I do right now. His hooded eyes and dilated pupils? All because of me. It’s a heady, powerful feeling. I lick my lips and rub my thighs together. The thought of DH devouring me has me salivating at both ends, and I smile knowing it’s not a matter of if I’ll be screaming his name, or even when, but how loud.

  In one fluid motion, he flips me over and grips my hips, dragging my body to the edge of the bed. My nipples brush against the bedspread on the way, a precursor to the pleasure he’s about to deliver. He teases my entrance with the head of his dick, coating it with my wetness, then plunges inside up to the hilt with a satisfied grunt. Jesus Christ, he feels good. He grinds against me with every thrust, and the added movement creates a delicious burn in my core that has me arching my back and bending my knees to let him in even deeper.

  Growling, he releases my hips, grabs a fistful of hair, and sets a frenzied pace. The headboard bangs against the wall like a pornographic metronome. It’s rough. Primal. Hotter than anything I’ve ever experienced. He matches the speed of his thrusts to the volume of my moans, transforming his room into a symphony of wall-banging and skin-slapping.

  “So close! Don’t stop!” And he doesn’t. He reaches under to cup my breasts and drives into me even faster. Clutching the bedspread, I come hard and loud with his name on my lips.

  “That’s it, baby,” he pants as my walls clench tight around his shaft. Seconds later, he finds his own release and collapses on top of me, gasping for air.

  “I was wrong,” he says when he can finally speak again.

  “About what?”

  “I only needed four minutes.”

  “He’s super cute,” Mom whispers, passing the potato salad. “And his manners are impeccable. You should hang on to this one.” As expected, DH won mom’s heart in a matter of minutes.

  “Very subtle, Mom,” I laugh. “You can thank Aunt Helen for the manners.”

  “She’s a doll. She invited me over for tea tomorrow.” Mom glances around the yard, pausing to watch Evan play on the new jungle gym with Austin, Tyler, and Hannah. Even though my brother is twelve, he’s having a great time with the younger bunch. The same can be said for the men. Dad, Uncle Kurt, Mr. Wilson, DH, Eric, and even Ali’s boyfriend, Chris, are in Mr. Wilson’s garage salivating over his ’69 Camaro. Or maybe it’s a ’67 Chevelle? Whatever it is, it’s black and has four tires, and they’ve been in there for almost an hour.

  “You’ve done well for yourself, Paige. Your father and I never doubted you, but what you’ve created here,” she gestures across the deck, “is really something.”

  “I didn’t create anything, Mom. This was all here before I came along. Well, except for the jungle gym,” I joke, leading us to an empty space at the picnic table.

  “You created a life here. When I look around, I see one big family, and that includes you.”

  I consider her words while I dive into my macaroni and cheese. I never did get around to going to the gym, but with the way DH looks at me, I don’t see that being a problem. Having a fuck-hot boyfriend and carbs is like having my cake and eating it too. “I used to feel guilty about leaving Chad for someone else, but now I can’t imagine going back to the way things were before.”

  Mom gives me a knowing smile, then flicks her eyes over my shoulder. I turn and see DH jogging toward us with my phone in his hand. “This thing was blowing up on the kitchen counter.” He passes it to me as it starts ringing, my co-worker Laurie’s name lighting up the screen. I don’t work with her often, but she’s a sweetheart.

  “Hello?”

  “PAIGE! Did you check your texts?”

  “No, why? What’s going on?”

  “Whitney was arrested!”

  “WHAT?” I shoot out of my seat, nearly knocking over my plate, and put the phone on speaker so DH can hear, too.

  “Yes! About fifteen minutes ago. The cops came in and arrested her for sending naked pictures of herself to a child!”

  I grip DH’s arm and mouth, “What?” Whitney was sexting a kid? For as much as I hate her, I never thought she was that desperate. “Damn, I wish I could have been there to see that.” I haven’t seen Whitney since I got my job back. The guy in HR said they were keeping us on opposite shifts to avoid further conflict.

  “I took a video and sent it to you,” she giggles.

  “Laurie, I love you.”

  “I’ve gotta get back now. Go watch the video!” She ends the call, and I immediately pull up my messages. I can’t hear much of what they’re saying, but Laurie had a clear line of sight as Whitney was cuffed and led out of the hospital into the back of a police car. I smile so big, it feels like my face is going to split open.

  “Mom, I know you taught me that it’s rude to wish ill will on other people, but this video might be the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “There’s a difference between wishing ill will and celebrating a good case of karma.” She holds out her hand. “Now give me your phone. I want to watch that two-bit hussy get her comeuppance again.”

  “Hey, Tommy,” DH says next to me. “Do y’all have a nurse down there?” He punches the speaker button, and we hear laughter coming through his phone.

  “You’re a real heartbreaker, man. You didn’t hear this from me, but yeah, we’ve got a nurse down here. She’s said she didn’t know that you changed your number. Turns out your old one went to a fourteen-year-old kid whose Mom didn’t appreciate that her son was getting Whitney’s photos. She told her to stop texting, but Whitney didn’t listen. She thought she was the victim of… what was her exact phrase? Clitorference. She thought Paige was messing with your phone.”

  DH and I bust out laughing at that. “Holy fuck, dude,” he cackles, wiping tears from his face. “You just made my damn day. I’ll catch you later.” He stows his phone and throws his arms around me. “Ding dong, the witch is dead. This calls for a celebration.” He brushes his lips over mine and angles my head for a deeper kiss that makes me wish we weren’t in the middle of a family barbecue. Having a fuck-hot boyfriend, carbs, and a psycho stalker who digs her own grave? I’m practically rolling in cake and frosting.

  “Uncle D and Paige, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Laughing, we turn to see Austin serenading us from the top of the jungle gym. “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage!”

  “You know, that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs in my ear, running his thumb along my neck.

  “What, kissing?”

  “All of it. Love. Marriage. Babies.” My breath catches in my throat. Is he serious? DH could bring half the women in Cleveland County to their knees with a remark like that; hell, it’s a miracle I’m still standing. Before I can respond, he winks and kisses me on the cheek, then takes off toward the jungle gym in a chorus of squeals and shrieks from the kids. The guys built the play area the week after Hannah came home, and from what I’m told, Tyler has asked to sleep outside every night since then.

  “Run, he has girl cooties!” Austin shouts, dashing across the bridge. Evan and Tyler split up and circle back to tackle DH from behind, but he does a one-eighty and grabs each of them in his arms, fake-body slamming them to the ground. Hannah, too little to understand what’s going on, cheers and claps her hands from the sandbox next to the jungle gym.

  Mom walks up with my phone and shows me the picture she just took: DH, surrounded by the kids, having the time of his life. “Like I said, you should hang on to this one.”

  It’s Saturday afternoon and I’m floating in Maggie’s pool, where I’ve been for the last six hours with Austin. I switched from working weekend nights to weekday nights three weeks ago, and it still hasn’t quite sunk in that I can have a social life when everyone else does. Can I get
an amen for new nurses who take the weekend shift?

  “Uncle D!” Austin’s face lights up when DH steps onto the patio. I can’t blame him. He’s fucking gorgeous, and he makes my face light up, too. “Are you going swimming with us?”

  “Not for a couple more weeks, bud. Then I can go swimming as much as I want.” DH got his first tattoo a few weeks ago. It spans the upper half of his back and took seven hours to complete. I’ve never seen a more beautiful piece of art on someone’s body. He has a field of poppies, which he said reminds him of the poem from Patch’s funeral and The Wizard of Oz. Within the poppies are two Soldier’s Crosses—the memorial display made from a fallen service member’s helmet, boots, gun, and dog tags. Those represent Patch and Robbie. Beside those two crosses is a pair of boots. No helmet, gun, or dog tags. Just the boots. That represents DH and how close he came to killing himself. Right above his boots is the rising sun, which he said is me—the light that pushed out the darkness. Even now, I can’t think about it without getting teary-eyed.

  “Did you get everything done?” I ask from my raft. DH has been busy all day at the shop. I feel bad that he missed out on a day in the pool, but he assured me being that greasy in the garage didn’t bother him at all.

  “Yeah, everything’s taken care of. I even had time to shower.”

  “Dinner!” Maggie calls from the kitchen. Austin and I both slip off our rafts and swim to the stairs.

  “Actually,” DH passes me a towel, “I’m taking you somewhere.”

  “You are? Where?” A small part of me is bummed. Maggie’s making lasagna and I can smell it all the way on the patio.

  “It’s a surprise.” He winks, turning my insides to liquid, and I forget all about Italian food. “But don’t worry, I brought some clothes for you to change into. I’ll go tell Eric and Maggie you said bye.”