Falling for Love

by Vicki Green

  Crap! “Uh, not yet. You’re the first per….”

  “You get some rest, son. I’ll call her or better yet, I’ll go over there. She should hear this in person. I’ll hold her hand and hug her so she doesn’t fall apart.” Hmmm. Jen is usually the strong one. Not that I’d ever want this to happen again, but maybe it’s helping her to be strong instead of the one always falling apart.

  “Okay, Mom. Thank you. Tell Jen I’ll call her in the morning.” I yawn. Not fake at all. I’m so fucking tired.

  “Yes, Caylan. That’s a great idea. You go to sleep now. I love you, son.”

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  I barely end the call, plug the charger back in, and set my phone back on the table when my eyes close.

  My heart is racing. I have no idea what to expect, what I’ll be walking into. Voices. How many are there in there? Shit! I hope my backup gets here quick. I feel sweat bead up on my forehead. My hands become slick gripping my gun. A man opens the door next to me. My back pushes against the house. Fuck! I react and wrap my left arm around his chest while my right arm moves around his throat, and my hand covers his mouth. He squirms. I release my hold around his throat long enough to use the butt of my gun to knock him unconscious. All the while I’m thinking how I blew it. Deep down, I’ve been too concentrated on my life and didn’t hear his footsteps coming near. Irish. Margie. The baby. All too much in my mind. I shake my head, trying to remove all the thoughts as I creep inside. Three men. No backup yet.

  I confront Patrick, the man I’m to apprehend. Someone comes into the room from my left and I shoot. But not before he hits me first.

  “Too much blood.”

  Another shot.

  “V-fib!”

  My eyes snap open, my breathing erratic. A dream. Just a dream. No. It happened but I’m okay. I’m safe. Shit. My chest rises and falls quickly with my labored breathing. I feel cool and clammy as I try to wipe away the remnants of my nightmare. When I turn my head, I see Margie sitting in the chair by my bed. Her head is low, tilted to one side. Her eyes closed, and her hands resting on top of her large stomach filled with the baby. My baby? It could be. Sadness overwhelms me. I wanted my kids to be made from love. Two people who love each other with their entire hearts and souls. If this baby is mine, it will know no different from me. I would love him or her unconditionally as if they were made by two people who loved each other. I will make sure Margie has enough money or whatever she needs to take care of them. I will spend every moment I can to be a good father. I won’t take my responsibilities lightly. Ever.

  I reach over and hit the nurse’s button on the railing. It doesn’t take but a moment for a nurse to walk into the room, probably thinking I need them. But I don’t. Not for me. “Yes, Mr. Dorn? Are you in pain?” Am I? Yes. Physical and mental pain.

  “A little but right now I’m more concerned about her.” I point at Margie. “Can someone bring in a cot or something for her to sleep on? As you can see, she has to be very uncomfortable.” I give her a pleading look but I really am concerned.

  “It’s really not allowed but….” She looks at Margie. A sad look appears on her face. She looks at me and smiles. “I’ll see what I can do. Let me just give you something for your discomfort and then I’ll take care of her.”

  She walks past me and I give her a smile. “Thank you.” I look back over at Margie, my brows lower. I need to take care of her too.

  Irish

  I’m so upset! But why am I upset? Am I hurt because she’s there to comfort him, acting like they’re together? Or am I angry because it’s not me in her place? Maybe both. I wanted to run to him. Okay, hobble fast. I wanted to smooth back his soft hair, kiss him on the cheek, and whisper in his ear that everything is going to be okay. I was so afraid of what I’d find when we got to the hospital. When I first looked into the room, my heart stopped. There laid a man whom I’d have given anything to take his place. What happened? All I know is his arm is in a sling. He’s being given oxygen through his nose, and his skin so pale. White as a sheet. He looks as if he is at death’s door. When I push open the door, I see her sitting by his side. It should be me there, sitting beside him. Consoling him. He’s taken care of me and my friends as long as we’ve known him, given me his heart. Her words of love and being together cut through me as if she held the knife that stabbed my heart, pushed it in deep. When she acted like they were going to be together, I saw red. I wanted to go over and knock some sense into her. If not for her carrying the baby…. The baby. At first I thought, do I fight for something that I can’t grasp myself? Or do I let her have him, try to go on as if he never existed. No! I know he wants me and I want him too, so much. I was so angry by the time I left there, I could barely talk to Brock. By the time he dropped me off, I did something I’ve never done before. I called Pops and told him that my knee hurts too badly and that I wouldn’t be at work. I needed some time. I just wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on anything but Caylan anyway. I’d probably cut off a finger dicing carrots. I ended up taking a hot bath but it wasn’t relaxing. All my thoughts were on Caylan.

  My skin is pruned by the time I get out of the tub. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion as I put on my sleep pants and t-shirt then climb into bed. After getting under the covers, I roll over onto my side, staring at the wall. How can things go from amazing to a nightmare in a matter of minutes? I was just beginning to feel like I could trust him, to try to make a relationship work. I gave myself to him completely in every sense. Gave it willingly. I know I was falling so deep for him. In love? Perhaps. Why does it have to hurt so badly? I close my eyes, remembering his gentle touch, his tenderness. The look in his eyes as he made love to me, so caring, so lovingly. A tear slides down my cheek and onto my pillow. I’m not sure I want to be in love. It hurts too much.

  The next day is more of the same. Numb. Weightless. Taren called but I didn’t answer. I don’t want to talk. I know I’m being mean, selfish. I’m sure she’s just as concerned for him as I am. I just can’t bring myself to care about anything. Maybe this is depression or maybe I’m just not as strong as I believed I’ve always been. I can’t stand not knowing if Caylan is okay or what is happening so I give in and text Taren.

  Me: Sorry I missed your call

  I lie.

  Taren: It’s ok. I’m worried about you. Are you alright?

  Me: I’m good. I just was wondering how Caylan is doing?

  Taren: Oh. Brock went up and said he was resting comfortably but hasn’t awakened yet. They still have him in ICU but he talked to the nurse and she said he was doing ok.

  I sigh in relief.

  Me: Thanks. Look. I’ll call you tomorrow. Have to go to work.

  I lie again.

  Taren: Ok, hon. I miss you.

  Me: I miss you too!

  She has no idea. That wasn’t a lie. I do miss her. I should be a better friend and go over to her house and help her. I just can’t bring myself to get motivated to do that. Anything really.

  I busy myself all day and into the evening with unpacking boxes and getting things put away. It’s been helping take my mind off of Caylan. It helped to know he was doing okay as well. With the little belongings I have, I’m completely unpacked by bed time. I’m finally in a place that feels more like a home. All I could think about all day is how Caylan was to come over tonight, maybe he’d even planned something but I’ll never know. At least now I know why he couldn’t call or come over. Again the feeling of being selfish overcomes me. Dammit. I’ve always been the strong one. Why can’t someone be the strong one for a change? Why can’t they comfort me, tell me everything will be okay? Now, all I wanna do is curl up in a ball, under the covers, and sleep the night away.

  Monday morning comes bright and early. I awoke thinking of Caylan and also that this week Taren and Brock will be finding out the sex of their baby. I’m so excited! But then that led to thinking about Margie and the baby that could be Caylan’s. That made my excitement turn to tears. I’m
a freaking mess. I wish I could go to the gym and work out. Right about now, punching the bag there would help. Shit! That made me think of Caylan again. In fact, no matter what I do, Caylan seems to enter my mind. I putter about all day, watching comedy movies and being virtually lazy. I haven’t eaten well since this whole mess started and that only became worse when I found out about Caylan being shot. I look like skin and bones and my stomach’s upset all the time, making it even harder to want to eat.

  I manage to go to work tonight, although I really don’t feel up to it. Mimi has been trying all night to get me to smile but my heart just isn’t in it. She’s also tried to get me to eat. I took a bite out of a carrot to pacify her. Didn’t work very well. She can be mean when she wants to. After work, it’s been another night of soaking in a hot tub, trying to relieve all my stress. No such luck. It’s still there as I climb into bed. Once I’m comfortable, I look over at my nightstand, my phone flashing telling me I have a text. I swipe the screen and go into my texts. My breath catches when I see his name. Did he know I had come to the hospital? He must think I’m horrible leaving the way I did. But he was not awake. How would he know? She told him. I’m sure of it.

  Caylan: Irish. I’m so sorry I didn’t come over last night. I was detained. I promise it was not intentional and I couldn’t get to my phone. Please, forgive me.

  My hand covers my mouth as a sob escapes. I look at the day and time of the text and it was this morning. He’s awake! And he’s thinking of me? That familiar feeling of confusion sweeps through me. Should I text him back? Call him? Go to the hospital and see him? Or do I leave well enough alone? I just don’t know what to do. I know my head is telling me to leave him alone, walk away. Guard my heart. Yet my heart says to go to him, comfort him and be there for him. I want to plead for him to take me back, that I never wanted to be apart. Tell him I’m sorry he got hurt and I’m more than thankful he’s okay. My head has always kept me out of trouble, guarded Jonas and Tiff when they needed protection. It’s saved me heartache over and over throughout my young life, staying away from anything that could break it. Do I follow my head or my heart? Not knowing what to do, I decide to sleep on it. Maybe something will come to me in the morning, making the decision for me. I can only hope. I lay my phone back down and turn over onto my side, praying the sleep finds me this time.

  I tossed and turned again all night. This has got to stop. I’m sluggish again this morning as I take my shower then decide to grab my laptop and check my emails. Most of them are junk mail so I rest my chin in my hand and keep hitting the delete button. I sit up straight when I see one that looks official and open it.

  Miss Hadley,

  We received your resume and are quite certain you would be a perfect fit in our company. We would love to speak to you at your earliest convenience. We are a small web design company, however, I believe your tech skills more than qualify you for the position we are trying to fill. I am anxious to hear from you.

  Sincerely,

  Brett Madden

  Madden Design Creations, Inc.

  (516) 555-1212

  Wow! I originally sent out several resumes before I’d gotten that other tech job. I really didn’t think anyone else would answer at this point. I open my browser and do a search on Madden Design Creations, Inc. He’s right, it is a small company, yet it appears they are doing rather well for themselves. I click on various pages until a picture comes up of Brett Madden. My, he’s nice looking. Blond hair, a bit of curl. Brown dreamy eyes and strong jaw on a shaven unblemished face. It says he’s twenty-five and single. He’s never seen out on dates, spending the majority of his time working. Hmmm, a workaholic or maybe he’s just making it seem that way. Taking my phone from my pocket, I dial the number and wait.

  “Mr. Madden’s office.” A woman. Figures.

  “Yes. This is Irish Hadley. I received an email and was asked to call Mr. Madden?” Sounds of papers shuffling then fingernails on a keyboard.

  “Ah, yes. Mr. Madden would like me to set up an interview with you. Let’s see. How about this afternoon at one or he could fit you in tomorrow at noon.”

  Excitement builds and I have to clear my throat. “One today would be fine.” I’m trying to stay professional but inside I’m exploding with excitement.

  “Very well. I’ve added you to his schedule. Please be prompt.” Geez.

  “I will. Thank you.” Click. Well, that was nice. Maybe secretly she’s one of his girls. Maybe she’s the jealous type and really wants him for herself. Another playboy I’m sure. Great! Just what I need in my life. Why can’t I just find a normal guy? One that wants to date only one woman, settle down. Guess I’d better go put some makeup on and change my yoga pants and t-shirt for something business-dress-like.

  At twelve thirty, I decide to leave not knowing how long it will take to get there. Don’t want to be late. As I climb into my truck, I’m wondering if I should have mentioned I’m on crutches and will be having knee surgery next week. Sigh. Sometimes I just don’t think. I guess I figure if they want to hire me they’ll have to put up with my hobbling and maybe a couple of days off right at the beginning. It was a twenty five minute drive from my apartment. The looks I receive as I hobble into the lobby of the small building makes me think otherwise. The woman at the reception desk shuffles papers around, not looking up, like I’m not even here.

  “Yes? May I help you?”

  I look around, no one in sight, so I guess she’s talking to me. “Irish Hadley here to see….”

  “Sign in on the paper on the clipboard and then have a seat to your right.” She doesn’t stop or look up the entire time she’s speaking. Way to be friendly.

  I do what she said and then hobble over to a very nice sitting area and sit down on one of the couches. I sink into the cushion. Soft but I’m afraid I’ll never be able to get up. Taking a deep breath, I look around. Nice potted plants. Fake. The furniture is nice. Big screen TV hanging on the wall to my right, CNN is on. Some amazing framed paintings hanging on different walls. Pretty posh for a small company if you ask me.

  “Miss Hadley?”

  I look up to see another nicely dressed woman standing at the edge of the room. Looks like she came from a hallway behind her. I press my hand on the arm of the couch, the other against the cushion. I have to hold in my groan in as I try several times to get up but finally manage. Way to make an impression, Irish. Grabbing my crutches, I make my way to her, a smile still plastered on her face. “Please follow me.” Yea, more hobbling! Thank God, the hallway wasn’t too long. We take a left and step into another small open area with a desk on either side of a set of wooden double doors. I follow her to the doors, she turns her hand over and knocks with her knuckles then opens one of the doors wide and stands to the side. I take that as an invitation so I make my way in. The room is rather large. A nice wooden desk takes up a fair amount of the center of the room. A leather chair is behind it and then double windows hang behind the chair. “Please have a seat.” I look at her and give a small smile. She, however, has no facial expression at all. Are they all like robots here? Bookshelves align the wall to my left. To my right is a leather couch and in front of me are two leather high back chairs. I hobble over to one of the chairs and sit down, laying my crutches on the floor between them. I wonder where this Mr. Madden is. You’d think he’d….

  I hear a click and turn my head. She’s gone. Strange place. I scan the rest of the room. To the right of the desk is a long counter with cabinets below and some above. It appears to be a wood grain granite that finishes the counter, matching the same wood stain as the rest in the room. Very nice. A door sits next to the counter and then more of the same cabinets and counters on the other side. I start to look back over the other side of the room again when I hear a sound to my right. A man walks through the door between the counters. The same man that I saw in the picture on the internet. He really is much better looking in person. Of course my eyes zoom down to his ring finger on his left hand. Empty. Shit.
He begins to walk towards me, hand extended. His mouths turns up into a wide smile. Oh, my God! His teeth are blindingly white.

  “Miss Hadley. Thank you for coming.” I take his hand and try to stand at the same time. My foot hits my crutches, and I lose my balance. Just when I think I’m gonna fall flat on my face, I’m in his strong arms. Very strong. He must workout. My arm wraps around him, my hand grabbing his arm. “Are you alright, Miss Hadley?” How embarrassing is this? Sigh. I grip his arm and hand as I regain my balance.

  I look up as my eyes widen. “I’m so, so, very sorry, Mr. Madden. I’m not normally a klutz.”

  His mouth is turns up in a small grin, his eyes sparkling. It’s like he thinks this is amusing or cute. That’s gonna tick me off quickly. “Here. Let me help,” he responds as he helps me sit back down. My anger is starting to churn. I let go of my hold as he releases my hand. He begins to walk around his desk as he speaks. “Why the crutches? Irish? May I call you Irish? What an unusual yet lovely name.” Oh, my! Laying it on a little thick.

  I shift in the chair, suddenly uncomfortable. “Irish is a strong name. My mom felt like I deserved it. I re-injured my knee almost two weeks ago. I’m afraid I’ll be having surgery on it next week. I’m sorry that I’d need to take off so soon, if I were to get the job of course. Sorry that I wasted your time.” I push against the fine leather arm rests, starting to stand up.

  “Uh. No. Please, Irish. Let’s not be hasty.”

  I look up at him, my heart beating rather fast from anger and anxiousness. I sit back down and fold my hands in my lap. Tilting my head, curiosity gets the better of me. “So why does a design company need a full time tech support person. I realize your company is small, however, surely you already have some support?”