by Jen Andrews
“Mama, as soon as I can get my things together I’m coming home. Will you please keep me updated? I’m going to pack now.”
She promised to keep me informed on Nanna’s tests and any changes in her condition. I hoped I would get to see her one last time if this were the end.
I shoveled in my breakfast and took a quick shower. Then I called my job, to quit. With the type of work I did, they were very understanding about why I needed to go home. After I packed, I drove to the gym to say goodbye to Reese in person.
When I entered the gym, Reese excused himself from the client he was working with and jogged over to me. With the way his brows furrowed and his face paled, he knew something wasn’t right with me.
“Teagan, what happened? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Nanna. She’s had a stroke. I’m going home, Reese, but I needed to see you and tell you goodbye.” I felt the tears prick my eyes.
He hugged me tightly. “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry about Nanna. I’m going to miss you so much,” he said sadly. “But, you need to go and be with your family.”
I nodded and wiped the tears off my face. “I love you, Reese. Thank you for everything. I promise to keep in touch, and you better come visit me.”
“I definitely will, Sweets. I worked damn hard for this body and I’m tired of covering it up during the winter. It could benefit even more from some of that Cali sun.”
Two nights later, I pulled in my parents’ driveway. I’d been keeping in touch with my mom during the trip. Nanna was still stable and would be released from the hospital the next day. Really, nothing could be done for her condition with the exception of physical therapy and speech therapy. Fortunately, she lived in a retirement facility with round the clock medical staff, so we were all comforted to know she would be looked after constantly and would start her therapy once she returned.
I hopped out of my car and ran up the sidewalk to the door of my childhood home. The door flew open as I reached for the knob, and my dad was standing there waiting for me.
“Teagan’s home!” he called excitedly over his shoulder.
“Dad!” I was so happy to see him. He looked perfect and healthy.
He pulled me into a hug, and my mom and sister Shannen joined us. I’d missed them all so much.
During dinner, we discussed Nanna’s prognosis, and I finally told my family about Gary and Katie. They had known he’d done something unforgivable, but I hadn’t told them the details. I didn’t tell them about the other women, though, because I was ashamed of how I’d forgiven him too many times before Katie.
When the hospital released Nanna to the retirement home, I helped her settle back in, but I had ulterior motives. I wanted to make sure the staff caring for her was competent. I was impressed with what I saw, so I felt better about leaving her there.
After she was comfortable, I sat down on the chair next to her bed to visit with her. “Nanna, it’s Teagan, can you hear me?”
Her green eyes were vacant, but suddenly, she blinked and her mouth moved. “P. .p. .peach . . . Peaches?” she said as she recognized me. She had a difficult time speaking because the stroke had paralyzed the right side of her body.
“Yes, Nanna,” I giggled at my nickname. “It’s me, Peaches.” I squeezed her hand and thought back to when I was small, and I’d asked her why she called me Peaches.
She’d said, “You have peaches and cream skin. Anytime you get worked up about something or embarrassed, your skin blushes to the color of a sweet, ripe peach. A little peachy, a little red.”
Knowing Nanna should rest and save her strength, I grabbed her book of poetry by Yeats. The volume was so tattered and worn, I had no doubt she’d read it hundreds of times.
I read to her until she fell in to a deep sleep.
I’d been living in California for a while now and had found a great job at one of the local hospitals. Since I was an RN, I could work almost anywhere in the hospital. The Emergency Room was where I seemed to be scheduled most of the time. Today was absolutely insane. We had patients with bogus illnesses, stabbings, a shooting, and everything else imaginable.
We even had to remove a small rock from a four year old’s nose. I wished I could say this was the only time I’d ever seen such a thing. But it wasn’t. And probably wouldn’t be the last either. Kids put strange crap up their noses. A lot.
Thankfully, my lunch break finally came around because I was starving. I took my place at the end of the line of nurses to wait for my turn to clock out. I didn’t know all of the nurses, but I had made good friends with some who had worked at the hospital for years and they had taken me under their wing.
“Hey, Teagan!” My friend Natalie called from the line behind me.
“Nat, what’s up?”
“Save me a seat!”
I gave her a thumbs up. Once I clocked out, I found my lunch in the fridge and took a seat at one of the tables. I pulled my salad and grilled chicken out of my lunch bag, then tossed them together with salad dressing. I pushed my lunch bag across the table to hold the seat for Nat.
Eventually she dropped down on the chair across from me. “Fuck me running,” she groaned as she laid her forehead down on the table. She raised her head a few inches then dropped it back down with a thump.
I chuckled and patted her on the back. “Bad day, Nat?”
She sat upright and scrubbed her hands over her face. “You could say that. I swear, if one more kid pukes on me, I’m gonna go hide in the janitors’ closet and curl up in the fetal position on the floor. I’ve changed my scrubs three times today.”
Oh, crap that sucks. There was nothing worse than being puked on. Okay, there were worse things, but that was the most common occurrence for the nurses in the pediatrics unit. I shook my head and laughed. “Sorry, Nat, might I suggest changing in to a Hazmat suit?” She didn’t laugh but glared at me instead. I smiled back at her.
“Alright ladies, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I have had a shit day,” Nat whined to the other nurses at the table. “I am ready to go out for a drink after work. Who’s coming with me?”
Nat and I laughed when all five groaned and raised their hands. Everyone seemed to be having a crap day except me. That worried me, because it meant I was either going to be puked on, or get a horrible patient before my shift ended.
Everyone agreed to meet after work and head over to Dub’s Sports Bar for a drink. I questioned aloud why seven women would be going to a sports bar. One of the other nurses, Rhonda, spoke up.
“Oh, girl, there are always some sexy men at that bar. I’m thinking about becoming a cougar if I can find me a fresh piece of young-man ass tonight!” Rhonda went on and on about what she was looking for in her future boy-toy.
It took me a minute to figure out she was describing a famous actor. “Rhonda, you do realize Brad Pitt is actually older than you, right?” I asked.
She laughed. “Honey, I know. If I found a Brad Pitt look-a-like from the Thelma and Louise movie, I’d kidnap his hot, little ass and keep him in my basement to service me whenever I saw fit!”
All the girls around the table agreed in unison that it was a grand idea. I laughed and shook my head. Brad Pitt, so not my type.
We chatted to finalize our plans while we finished our lunches then headed back to our work areas.
The rest of the day, I ran my butt off in the ER. Thirty minutes prior to my shift ending, Jackie, my other good friend, called me over.
“Can you help the doctor over in bed three, Teagan? I know you’re off duty soon, but it’s a simple suture you can assist with,” she said. “I’m already in a shitty mood and don’t want to deal with Dr. Asshole again today.” Then she smiled as she wiggled her eyebrows and pushed me toward bed three. “The patient is hot as hell!” She leaned in and whispered, “Move your ass girl, get in there and help that fine man!”
“I’m on it, Jackie. Thanks for giving me something quick.”
When I entered the exam room, I found a very g
ood-looking man holding a white, bloodstained towel to his forehead. Quickly, I washed my hands and retrieved a pair of medical gloves from the box.
The man was casually resting back on the exam table as if being there was no big deal. In fact, he appeared to be sleeping. He was wearing a dark blue work uniform so he must have been hurt on the job.
“Hey there,” I said quietly, stepping closer to him, and pulling my gloves on. “Looks like you have yourself a nasty cut from the amount of blood on that towel.”
His body jerked slightly as if I’d startled him. He opened his eyes slowly and rotated his head to face me. Holy crap, he is gorgeous. I stood in awe for a moment and stared at him.
The funny thing was, he was staring back at me. Interesting . . .
Our stare-a-thon lasted for several long seconds before he swallowed and let out a quiet laugh. “Please don’t tell me I got the only nurse in the entire building who’s afraid of a little blood.”
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t staring at me and I imagined the whole thing. This man was so out of my league, but a girl could dream. Even a girl with a few extra pounds left to lose.
I laughed with him so he didn’t think I was a freak for gawking at him. “No, not me. Definitely not afraid of blood,” I replied. “Sit up and let’s see what’s going on under that towel.”
He’d barely pulled off the towel before a fresh trail of blood ran down his face.
“Whoa, better put that back on and keep pressure on it until I’m ready,” I said. Crap, he was bleeding a lot. I picked up a square package from the tray, ripped it open, and pulled out the sterile gauze. “When I say go, pull the towel off and I’ll put this gauze pad on it. Then we’ll get it cleaned off and see what we’re dealing with.”
“Ready when you are, Red,” he teased.
Yeah, like I’d never heard that before. Freaking red hair! It was a curse and a blessing.
The towel he was holding against his forehead had come unfolded to cover half of his face, but from what I’d seen of my patient, he had a nice smile.
“One, two, three, go!” I counted rapidly while we both laughed. He yanked off the towel, and I pressed the gauze over the cut as more blood ran down his face. I held the gauze against his forehead with more pressure to stop the blood flow.
“What exactly happened to you?” I asked him while I put my other hand on the back of his head to hold him steady. He has nice hair.
“I got in a fight with the exhaust system of a car and lost,” he joked and relaxed somewhat. He had long thick eyelashes that rested against the skin of his face when he closed his eyes. Nice.
“Are you having any pain in your head, other than the cut?”
“Nope, no pain,” he replied. “I didn’t even want to come here, but I was forced to since it’s work comp. I was going to slap a Band-Aid or two on it and call it good.”
He was getting fidgety, and seemed uneasy for some reason, so I continued my questions trying to take his mind off his injury. He’d been joking with me, so I figured it was safe to tease him a bit.
“Well, I didn’t see any of your brain coming out, but I think it’s a pretty safe bet you’ll need a few stitches,” I said.
He turned to face me so abruptly, it caught me off guard, and I almost took the pressure off his cut.
“Stitches? Seriously? Fuck me,” he muttered.
I gasped and let out a quiet giggle at his reaction.
He looked mortified. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to cuss in front of you.”
I laughed at his sincerity. He really seemed to feel bad for his outburst and rubbed his palms up and down his thighs like he was nervous. What was with this guy?
“Don’t apologize. You wouldn’t believe what I hear on a daily basis in this place. Let’s check your cut again. The doctor will be back in a few minutes to stitch you up, but in the meantime, let me get it cleaned up for you.”
I pulled the gauze back and the blood had slowed enough, so it was no longer gushing. “So, you’re a mechanic then?” I asked, remembering what he’d said caused the injury.
He nodded, and I noticed he was pale. He had gorgeous olive colored skin, so his paleness was quite obvious. He also had the most beautiful blue-gray eyes I’d ever seen. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re looking kind of pale.”
He stared at me. “I’m fine. I hate hospitals.”
I washed the laceration and was finishing when Dr. Robinson came in to do the stitches. He was a complete jerk and all the nurses hated him because he frequently berated them in front of staff and patients. Dr. Asshole was definitely a fitting nickname.
The doctor injected a local anesthetic to numb the area around the cut while I assisted with the procedure. As soon as the stitches were in, Dr. Robinson tossed his instruments and used gloves down on the tray.
“Clean this mess and get the room ready for the next patient,” he muttered and hurried from the room. He didn’t look me in the eyes once the entire time he was in the room barking orders at me.
“Asshole,” I smirked.
I turned back to find my patient leaning up on his elbows staring at me with a sexy grin on his face. I laughed at having been caught calling the doctor an asshole, but knowing he thought it was funny, I decided I didn’t feel bad about it.
“Well, he is an asshole!” I whispered.
“Yes, I can see that. Are we finished here? I need to be someplace,” he said, his tone a bit brusque.
Inwardly, I flinched remembering the way Gary often spoke to me. He wanted out of here, and I didn’t want to keep him from where he was supposed to be. However, he was a mess. “Almost. I need to clean you up first because you’re covered in blood. You can’t leave here looking like the victim of a slasher movie.”
He chuckled. “Point taken.”
As I cleaned the dried blood off his face, he closed his eyes and relaxed. Occasionally, he let out a quiet moan that was barely audible in the noisy ER. While I worked, he sat up abruptly and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He was acting strangely and seemed almost . . . embarrassed?
“Positive, I swear. I uh . . . just needed to move. That’s all.”
I shook my head and cleaned the blood off his cheek and jawline. “You really bled like crazy. Head wounds are always bleeders though. It went down your shirt. Do you want to clean it off before you leave?”
I definitely wasn’t sticking my hand down his shirt. Although, he was really good looking and I wouldn’t mind seeing what was underneath it. Out of your league, girl . . . Get it together.
“Actually, I probably should clean it off. If my mom sees me like this when I go back to work, she’ll go ape-shit and think I’m dying.”
“You work with your mom, and you’re a mechanic?”
“I work at my family’s business. She might be there when I go back to get my car. She works in the office, but was gone when I left. I’m not sure if she even knows what happened yet.”
“Ahh, I see. Yes, we do not want to scare Mom. That never ends well.”
He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off. Instead of letting it drop to the exam table behind him, he wadded it in a ball and set it on his lap. He was wearing a black tank top underneath. The blood had gone down the front of his shirt onto his chest, and had seeped over his shoulder and down his back.
“Well, looks like you get to clean the front, and I’ll get your back since you can’t see it,” I said, and grabbed us each a new wet wipe.
I took notice of how lean and muscular he was. He wasn’t a big guy, but he definitely took care of himself physically. At least that was what I could tell by the part of him not covered by his tank top and work pants.
I wonder if he has a girlfriend. Jesus, Teagan, you have no business thinking about this guy like that. He probably has a supermodel for a girlfriend. Why would he want you?
Tears pricked my eyes and I shook the self-demeaning thoughts fr
om my head, refocusing on my job. “You really did a number on yourself. The blood ran down under your shirt, so I need to lift the back. Do you mind?”
He laughed nervously and pulled the neck of his tank away from his skin. “Um, it’s down the front too.”
In one swift movement, he pulled his tank top off and set it on his lap with his other shirt.
As I was wiping the blood from his back, I found even his back and shoulders were ripped with muscles. I didn’t dare look at the front of him. He had the most amazing olive colored skin and I couldn’t get over his skin and blue-gray eyes combo. And his hair! Dark brown, short on the sides and long on top. I bet he has great bed-head and after sex hair.
Did I really just think that? Either way, it was hot and something I’d never see for myself.
Most men his age, which I guessed was close to my age, had at least one tattoo. Not this guy though. There was not a drop of ink on him.
After I finished cleaning his back, I stepped in front of him to make sure he’d washed all the blood off. He did a good job getting it off his chest, but had missed a few spots on his neck.
I reached up and gently cleaned the blood from his neck. “You missed a spot,” I said softly, completely mesmerized after finally getting a good, long look at him.
He closed his eyes as I wiped away the blood, and I heard another rumble escape him. His body tensed, his gorgeous eyes blinked open meeting mine, and my hand froze in place on his neck. He slowly let out a breath and relaxed.
Holy crap, was it me causing him to make those incredibly sexy noises? Was he feeling what I was feeling? There was no way this man would want me.
We stared at each other without saying anything. My hand was still resting on him, but I noticed my fingertips were curling back and forth, lightly kneading his neck.
“You have pretty eyes,” I blurted out, breaking the awkward silence. Well, that was embarrassing! I knew my traitorous cheeks flushed red because I felt them getting warm.
