by Kate Kinsley
I still have to take my anti-seizure medication, but with today’s latest visit with Dr. Bourque, he’s confident the meds are working correctly in conjunction with the VNS therapy.
The additional plus I’ve witnessed is that my moods have become better and stabilized some too. I was still having some highs and lows, but rarely to the extent I was having prior to my surgery as my Cypralex took a couple of weeks to really kick in, yet now, I can’t imagine my life without that little white pill. My anxiety seems to be a thing of the past and I am no longer the dark brooding man I was with far too infrequent happy moments.
As it is, Hope, Charger, and I are at the Central Experimental Farm in Ottawa’s center for an afternoon of sunshine and peace. More specifically, we are meeting in the Ornamental Gardens once she is done taking in the sights in the Arboretum. I had to leave due to nature calling for Charger, and I’d been taken by the rows upon rows of flowers and other blooms across the way.
I have something special planned for my woman and why not enjoy the fresh air while getting a head start on things.
I was finishing with setting up the food when Charger whined.
“What’s up, boy?” He never made a peep unless… I quickly took inventory on how I was feeling, but Charger hadn’t approached me yet, which was odd. “Charge—”
On a single bark, my dog takes off like a bat out of hell, dodging an oncoming car for the Arboretum.
Forgetting about my picnic, I take off after the Malinois. Despite the dog being out of eyesight, I can’t miss the commotion going on.
“Where—” Wide eyes look at me, fingers point. Murmurs of “unconscious” and “911,” a few children crying are what follow behind me.
It doesn’t take long to locate Charger. On the ground, over someone’s legs is where I find him.
“Clear some room, folks,” I ask, as I pass through the small crowd that surrounds my dog. Under him, I see a little girl, her head on Hope’s knees, as what I can only assume is the girl’s mother and brother clutching at each other at their side. The shaking of the little girl’s body is all too familiar. “Everyone, there’s nothing to see here. This little girl and her family can use some privacy.” I know all too well how embarrassing it is to wake up after an episode and having strangers staring at me like I’m some sort of freak. This kid doesn’t need that.
Little by little, the space clears out with an employee escorting the stragglers out of the Arboretum.
“911?” I ask.
“I called. They should be here any minute now,” Hope says, doing what I’ve long since discovered is a vagus nerve massage.
Charger is nuzzling the little girl’s hand, the seizure that had taken her hostage slowly easing.
Minutes later, I can hear the ambulance sirens in the distance.
“Ma’am, this is Hope, and my name is Captain Hale. Retired.” I’m not sure what possessed me to use my former title. “And that there,” I point to my dog, “is Charger. He’s a real-life war hero, but these days, he lets me know when I’m about to have a seizure of my own.”
The little boy’s eyes grow wide with surprise along with his mother’s. “Anna.” She swallows hard. “I’m Anna. This is Cedric, and my daughter’s name is Sadie.”
“Is this the first time?” I ask, noticing that little Sadie is starting to come to, Hope wearing a smile of appreciation and pride at the way I’m handling the situation. I have to say that it feels phenomenal to be of use like I once had been. She mouths a, “Thank you,” my way to which I wink my welcome.
“Y-yes,” the mom hiccups. “She had a tumble this morning. She complained of a headache, but we gave her medicine and she was fine afterward.”
I nod.
“Have her checked out by the medics and let them take her to the hospital for a proper look over. You want to rule out a concussion. Seizures don’t normally happen like this with a simple knock to the head,” Hope explains. The woman looks horrified. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Anna. These things happen. I’ve seen all sorts of freak accidents over the last few years. You’re better safe than sorry.”
Anna nods, looking relieved at what Hope has explained just as the paramedics show up.
“Hungry?” I wrap my arm around Hope, holding tight to Charger’s leash as we watch the ambulance pull away with the little girl, her mother and brother following closely in their own vehicle.
“Famished.” Hope’s belly decides to rumble with her singular word, making me laugh, her eyes brimming with excitement as she looks up at me. “Any chance our lunch is still where you left it?”
“If it isn’t, we’ll pack up what’s left of it, hit up that deli on Preston Street we’ve been wanting to try out, then stop for a quiet lunch at Remic Rapids on the Parkway, before we head back to the hotel.” Urging her forward, we head toward where our spot had been.
“You did good, back there.” Hope leans up and kisses my jaw. “Took charge and got those people to leave. They wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Hmm. Felt good. It’s different being on the other side of those seizures I tell you.” I look over at Charger. “I’m not sure if I should be proud of that guy or worried that he alerted for the girl at such a distance and then went for it.” We pause at the foot of the blanket I’d laid out earlier. Most of everything is intact with the exception that some critters have evidently gotten to our food during my absence.
“He’s just used to being a hero like you are.” Hope crouches down and gives Charger some overdue love. “Aren’t you, boy?”
“You handle him, give him his praise, and I’ll pack this shit up.” I turn to do just that, a little miffed that my plan had been foiled.
“Hey, at least we’ll get to try that deli finally.” Her voice is muffled and when I turn to look at her, she’s got her face buried in the side of Charger’s neck, his eyes on me, that tongue lolling to the side and there is no mistaking it. The bastard was grinning from ear to fucking ear.
Enjoy it for now, buddy. She’s mine later.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Hope’s eyes are wide on the size of the sandwiches I pull out of the bag I had them in. “I can’t eat all that!”
I smirk. “I probably can’t either, but you have to hand it to those Italians, sweetheart. They sure know how to ensure you’re full.”
“I knew I should have gone in there with you,” she grumbles, her eyes filled with mirth, nonetheless.
“Woman, you’re starving, so I suggest you wrap that deliciously sinful mouth of yours around that fresh Italian bread, and stuff your face so we can get back to the hotel; then I’ll stuff you full of something else.”
Her eyes go wide. “Carson!” She looks around from the perch on the hill by the Rideau River I’ve picked out for us. “Have you no shame?”
I chuckle through the mouthful of deliciousness before swallowing, then I say, “When it comes to you, baby, no, I don’t. It must be the adrenaline from earlier.”
Her eyes are aimed at her own meal as she shakes her head as if I’m being ridiculous. “Must be.” With her first bite, her eyes close and she moans through her mouthful.
“Fuck.”
“Hmph?”
“Just eat and be quiet, all right?” I groan.
“Or what?” she manages to say between bites.
“Or I’ll lay you down right here and give you what for.”
The woman blushes. “Jesus, Carson, what’s gotten into you?”
I shrug, smirking. “You.”
Chapter Eight
I’ve finally managed to put the finishing touches on my latest project for our home. Lately, I’d been fulfilling orders from all over Northern Ontario for a variety of wood pieces. The one I had the biggest kick from, however, had been an entire bedroom set where the guy who’d commissioned me to put it together had a few specific tweaks needed.
I’m not about learning that much information about a client, but he’d definitely given me ideas for our own bedroom furniture w
hen he asked me to included levers and gromets in his bed frame.
With that said, Hope is due any minute now, and I am growing restless.
Standing under the pergola I’d built for us, which Hope hasn’t seen as of yet since I held off on putting it together until today, with my brother-in-law Blake’s help, I’m as prepared as I’ll ever be.
“Ready for this, big guy?”
Charger’s at my side, waiting, and if I’m being honest, he’s definitely more relaxed than I am at this very moment.
“Think she’ll like it?”
A disinterested grunt is my response, but a few seconds later, his ears perk up.
“Carson?”
“Back here, babe. Got something to show you.”
“What in the world?” Hope’s hands come up to cover her mouth in evident surprise.
I smirk. “You like?”
“It’s beautiful, Carson,” she says as she comes closer, her hands smoothing over the first of the support columns. She runs her fingers over the flowers I’d planted in the built-in planters.
“It’ll take a few summers for these to grow, but eventually, each pillar will be overgrown with this clematis. Here,” I extend my hand for her to take, “have a seat in this.” A while back, I’d built us a lounging sectional for the back deck that overlooks the water, but I’d spruced the thing up earlier in the day, and now it’s almost as comfy as the couch in our living room. I’ll be lucky if my woman will be able to pull her nose out of one of her damn romance novels to give me the time of day, let alone vacate this cozy outdoor haven.
Sitting down along with her, I curl Hope into my side and sigh. Charger is at our feet, off to the side.
“This is better than I imagined it would be.” Hope turns her face up to look at me, then kisses my jaw. “Thank you.”
“I have to admit that I’m pretty impressed with how it turned out myself. It’s perfect. Perfect for us.” I swallow the growing lump in my throat and power through. “Something made for a wedding.”
I can hear the air whooshing out of Hope, and feel her body stiffening. “What did you just say?” she whispers.
Extracting myself from my woman, I find myself on my knees in front of her. “Hope Stillwell, I love you. I have for most of my adult years. Thank you for sticking by my side. I’ve been a shit man to you these last six years, but if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the next sixty making sure that you want for nothing. We’ve built this home together, now I want an entire life. I may not be worth much with all my issues, but I’ll give you the world if you’ll let me.” Fishing into my pocket for the ring I’d put there earlier, I pinch it between my thumb and index, showing her the diamond-studded band surrounding the one-point-five carat, pear-shaped diamond in its center. “What do you say, Hope? Marry me?”
Tears fall freely over blotchy cheeks, but Hope has never looked more beautiful than right this moment.
“Babe?” I urge her. “You’re killing me here.”
She nods her head slightly, then manages a whispered, “Yes,” before throwing herself into my arms, repeating, “Yes,” louder the second time around. Pulling back, she cups the sides of my face and leans her forehead to mine. “This, right here, what’s happened over the last few months…this is what I’ve been trying to show you all along, Carson Hale. You’re worth all of this.” She swings an arm to indicate everything surrounding us. “You’re worth having so much more than what was given to you. You’ve asked me time and time again as to why I haven’t left you. This…this right here is why, honey. I told you it was because I love you, and it’s true, but I held on because I wanted this moment right here and every little moment in between. I wanted to see you realize you deserve everything you have right now and everything else that will come in our life together.”
The lump in my throat has only grown, and I can feel the tears stinging my eyes, while hers are once again flowing freely.
“Fuck, babe,” I growl, then press my lips to hers far too briefly before I pull away. “You undo me.”
“And you make me so happy.”
“Ditto, future Mrs. Hale. Ditto.”
Later that night, in the stillness of the dark, with my woman tucked into my side, and Charger on his bed on my side of the bedroom, I lie awake.
I’m happy.
Fulfilled.
Alive.
I’ve been trying to pinpoint the exact word that sums up the sentiment that seems so overwhelming as of late, and it finally hit me a second ago.
It took the love of a pint-sized woman, the support of numerous doctors, and the loyalty of a scarred dog, but without them, I’d be but half a man, if a man at all.
I may be banged up, scarred, and damaged in irreparable ways, but I’m free.
Liberated.
Also By Carey Decevito
The Broken Men Chronicles
Once Written, Twice Shy (Book 1)
Almost Forgotten (Book 2)
Play Me to Infinity (Book 3)
To Forgive & Hold Safe (Book 4)
A Heart’s War (Book 5)
Essence Extracted Trilogy
Essence Derived (Book 1)
Essence Surfaced (Book 2)
Essence Redeemed (Book 3)
Nightshade
Night Break (Book 1)
Night Shift (Book 2)
Night Hunt (Book 3)
Night Hack (Book 4) – Coming Winter 2020
Night Vengeance (Book 5) – Coming Spring 2021
About Carey Decevito
Born and raised in small-town Northern Ontario, Canada, Carey Decevito is a writer of erotic romance, paranormal romance, romantic suspense, and a member of the Ottawa Romance Writers. This lover of food will throw in a bit of heat, a dash of sass, a pinch of comedy, and a dollop of real-life experience to provide her readers with a story that will mess with their emotions from start to finish.
Family and friends are her lifeblood, but Carey also enjoys conquering the outdoors, sports, traveling, and playing tourist in Canada’s National Capital region. When life gets crazy, she seeks respite through her writing and submersing herself in the latest addition to her library. If all else fails, she knows there’s never a dull moment with her two daughters, her goofy husband, and their cat and dog who she swears are out to get her.
She is the author of The Broken Men Chronicles, Essence Extracted and the latest Nightshade series.
Dog Days of Christmas
Kujo and Molly want to further their relationship with a baby, but they’re having no luck. With Christmas fast approaching, they opt to relieve their stress over missed-conception and head into the Crazy Mountains for a winter escape. When Six, Kujo’s retired Military Working Dog, disappears intio the wilderness, Kujo and Molly realize their love for each other is their strength, and the life of their best furry friend takes precedence. They call on the Brotherhood Protectors to help them search for the missing canine. Christmas wouldn’t be the same without Six.
Chapter One
Molly Greenbriar stood at the window in the maternity ward at the Bozeman hospital, staring at the baby lying in the bassinet and sighed. “He’s beautiful.”
Joseph “Kujo” Kuntz grunted. “Kind of red and wrinkly, if you ask me.”
Molly elbowed Kujo in the belly. “That’s not nice,” she said. “Babies are a miracle and should be treated with respect. That little human came out of Sadie’s body.”
Kujo shook his head. “That, in itself, is kind of scary.” He jerked a finger in the nursery’s direction. “Look how big that baby is. It’s hard to believe he came out of his mother. Sadie’s not a big woman. She’s got a small frame. How did she push that kid out?”
Molly laughed. “A woman’s body is built to adjust to allow the baby to pass through. I’m sure it hurts like hell, but the result is well worth it.”
Kujo’s forehead creased. “Are you sure you want to have a baby? That’s almost like asking for pain. Like me asking for someone to shoot me in the gut.”
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She gave him a twisted smile. “Not helping, Joseph. Not helping.” She looked at the little boy swaddled in the hospital receiving blanket, wearing a blue knit beanie. The card tucked into the slot in his bassinet read “Baby Boy Patterson.”
Molly sighed again. “What if we can’t get pregnant?” she asked. “Have you thought about that?”
Kujo shrugged. “We have Six. He’s turning into nothing but a big ol’ baby.”
She smiled. “He is a big baby of a German Shepherd, isn’t he? But he’s getting old. He’s not going to be around forever. We’ve got three, maybe four more years with Six.”
Kujo’s frown deepened. “That dog’s going to last forever. He’s got nine lives, like a cat. He’ll probably outlast all of us.”
Molly shook her head. “On average, German Shepherds live to be between nine and thirteen years old. Fourteen, if they’re lucky and stay healthy throughout their lives. Six is nine now, and he was wounded in the war.”
“But he’s getting the best treatment now,” Kujo argued.
“Yes, but that won’t help him to outlive us.” Her brow wrinkled. “Don’t you want children?”
Kujo slipped his arm around Molly. “You know I do. But if we don’t have kids, I have you. You’re all I really need.”
She leaned into him. “Even with my career in the FBI, somewhere down the line, I’ve always imagined having a home, a husband and two-point-five children like everyone else in the country.” She smiled wistfully. “When I married you, I imagined having a little girl with black hair and ice blue eyes.”
