The Novella Collection: A series of short stories for the Pushing the Limits series, Thunder Road series, and Only a Breath Apart

by Katie McGarry

  While Tyler is the best babysitter on the planet, our other volunteers have been lacking in the helpfulness department. Noah and Jacob are engaged in a showdown of wills on the other side of the room when they should be setting up chairs around the tables. My brother, Alexander, stands beside me with scissors in one hand and the same bouquet of flowers I handed him ten minutes ago in the other.

  I keep an eye on the confrontation between my strong-willed husband and even stronger willed brother-in-law, while also keeping my attention on my sibling. He’s seventeen, in all of its glory. Quite aware that my teen years were complicated for different reasons, and that Dad had a hand in why those years were complicated, I have the urge to call my father and apologize to him for any of the times I might have been a bit overly dramatic.

  “Dad’s so unfair,” Alexander says.

  He can be, but Alexander doesn’t exactly make his life easier by turning everything into an argument, even when the argument doesn’t need to be had. It’s times like these that I wish for the millionth time that my older brother, Aires was still alive. Maybe he would have known how to handle the war that is my father and brother.

  There are times that Alexander looks so much like Aires that it hurts, but most times, I love seeing a bit of my lost brother within my brother who is very much alive.

  “I’m going to be honest,” I cut the end of a rose and stick it in the vase, “Noah and I will give Macie, Seth, and Oliver curfews when they are in high school.”

  “My friends get to stay out until midnight. Dad and Mom treat me like a baby with a curfew of eleven.”

  “Dad was stricter with me than he is with you.”

  “You always choose his side, and that’s not fair. Mom said you and Dad argued when you were my age. You should be on my side.”

  I sigh, because Dad says the same thing to me about Alexander when I try to talk to Dad about his relationship with my brother. “I choose both of your sides. The problem is that neither of you ever tries looking at it from the other’s point of view.”

  Alexander glares at me, and I can tell by the set of his jaw he’s upset. I cut more flowers, give him a few seconds to stew, and wish I could hand him a piece of paper and some crayons to try to figure out what’s really going on with him.

  “Then give me something to help you,” I say. “If you want to have a later curfew, then you have to give a good reason to have one and why you’re responsible enough to handle it.”

  “Are you saying I’m not responsible?” he shoots back.

  Did I twist every sentence around when I was his age? “I didn’t say that. I’m saying that if you want a different curfew then you need to build a case as to why Dad should give it to you. He responds better to well-thought-out conversations than to overly emotional arguments.”

  “You won’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  Alexander drops the scissors on the table and fiddles with the leaves of the roses. “There’s a girl.”

  And there it is—the real issue. A million questions form in my mind, most of them belonging to the protective and giddy older sister who wants to know everything about this girl, but I need to help Alexander and Dad first. “What does this girl have to do with curfew?”

  He shrugs his shoulders like he doesn’t know, yet he answers. “She works, almost every day, and she doesn’t get off until ten. I’m able to give her a ride home, but when she asks me to hang out with her, I have to tell her no. I don’t want to seem like a baby by telling her I have a curfew, and I can tell that even though I’m saying no nicely, she feels like I’m blowing her off.”

  All the puzzle pieces start to click together. “Have you tried explaining this to Dad?”

  He mashes his lips together. “Dad won’t understand. He’s ancient.”

  True there aren’t many people Dad’s age with seventeen-year-olds, but ancient is a bit of a stretch. “I think you should try telling him. He might surprise you.”

  “No, he won’t. I’ve heard how much he hated Noah for years.”

  True again, but…. “Noah and I were different, and Dad’s changed a lot since then. He’s admitted to me he was wrong on a lot of things with Noah, and Noah and I didn’t exactly make it easy on Dad. I told you the story of how I once had to call Dad for bail money for Noah. If Macie ever called Noah for bail money for her boyfriend, Noah would probably lose his mind.”

  Lose his mind would be an understatement. After being the bad boy, Noah is already on the lookout for any boy in Macie’s class who could be a potential leather-jacket-wearing kind of trouble he was. With Macie’s tendency to enjoy being a bit wild, even for six, I’m not sure any of us will survive her teen years.

  Alexander finally glances up at me, and his open body language informs me that for the first time since we started this conversation that he’s listening, so I continue, “Dad isn’t a stranger to love. He fell in love with my mom, and he tried for years to help her, even when she didn’t want to help herself.” They’re even friendly with each other now when we have combined family functions. Mom has been doing very well for years and even has someone special in her life.

  “And he fell in love with your mom. When I say fell in love, I mean fell hard. I was in middle and high school and had to watch their disgusting teenage lovey-dovey behavior. Each time I had dinner with them I wanted to vomit.”

  Alexander chuckles and his posture finally relaxes. “Will you be there when I talk to him?”

  “If you want me there.”

  “I do.”

  On the inside I’m smiling like Seth with a cookie, but I keep the sister joy off my face.

  Alexander’s cell chimes with a text, and by the way he lights up, it must be this mystery girl. He jacks his thumb over his shoulder. “Do you mind if I take a few minutes off?”

  That would have required him to have worked to begin with, but instead of mentioning that, I shoo my brother away to go woo a girl. The moment he’s out of the tent, I look over in time to spot Noah giving his brother Jacob a hug. Good. The last thing I wanted was for them to get into another argument.

  Noah and Jacob share the same type of relationship Alexander and my father do. Lots of love and lots of arguments. Noah has always been more of a father figure to Jacob than a brother. Jacob and Tyler were adopted and have a mom and a dad, but Noah and Jacob fell into those roles with each other while Noah is able to just be Tyler’s older brother.

  Jacob pulls away, offers Noah a crooked grin and then sets off to start the task of putting up table and chairs. Better late than never. Noah glances over at me, and even though he has thrown me that heart-stopping glance a million times since we were seventeen, those mutant pterodactyls take flight in my chest.

  A blush hits my cheeks as I remember the way Noah loved me last night, and I return my attention back to the flowers, while catching a peek at Noah walking in my direction. It’s moments like this that I see glimpses of the rebellious teen who I first fell for all those years ago. That sexy swagger, those dark eyes set on me, and finally his touch as he puts a hand on my waist.

  “S’up, Echo,” he says in a deep, sensual voice that causes my blood to tingle.

  I giggle with the reminder from our past. “Hello, Noah.”

  Noah leans down and kisses me. It’s brief, but it’s a promise of events to come later this evening when the kids are tucked away into bed. He pulls away and watches as our children use Tyler as a jungle gym. “How’s Alexander?”

  “Seventeen, falling in love and thinks he’s the first one to have ever experienced it.”

  Noah snorts. “Sounds about right.”

  Because we felt the same way at his age. While all of those moments we shared as teens were new, fresh and exciting, I wouldn’t trade what I have now to experience any of that again. There’s something comforting and peaceful in the love and life we have now. A comfortableness in every simple touch, word and action.

  Do we argue? Yes, definitely, yes. But even in
the arguments, there’s a deep understanding and love that keeps us from going too far. As the years go by, the apologizing comes faster, the need to see the other’s side more apparent. Adulting is hard, but growing in a relationship with the man I’ve married is one of the greatest joys of my life.

  “What’s going on with Jacob?” I ask.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  Flipping fantastic. Where Tyler is driven and focused, Jacob has been using his twenties to find himself, hopping from job to job and girl to girl. Not that he has to have everything figured out right now, but Jacob has a tendency to create drama with his choices.

  “When you put it that way, not really, but tell me anyhow.”

  Noah rubs the back of his neck then drops the bomb. “You’re going to be an aunt.”

  I blink repeatedly and try to process the words. “Jacob’s having a baby?”

  “Technically the girl he slept with is having a baby, but yeah, that’s the gist. She’s four months along, and she’s keeping the baby regardless of what Jacob decides to do. Jacob doesn’t want me to tell you who it is yet, but I’ll give you three good guesses and the first two don’t count.”

  Crap. Just crap. “It’s Sylvia, isn’t it?”

  “Give the woman a prize.”

  My stomach sinks. Sylvia is in the middle of law school. She and Jacob have been best friends since high school. I’ve suspected she’s always been in love with him, but Jacob has been too free of a spirit to notice.

  Just… “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Wow.”

  “What’s he going to do?”

  “Be involved. Help in any way possible. He said he intends on being a full-time dad. He asked if he could move in with us, so he can save money and focus on getting his life on track. I told him I would have to talk to you.”

  My mind swirls. Jacob moving in with us, probably in the basement. I nibble on my bottom lip, not very thrilled with the idea of someone else in our house and less thrilled with the idea that if he moves in, he might never leave. But being that this is Noah’s brother, there’s no way I can turn him away.

  “Has he told his parents?” I ask.

  “Not yet. He wants me to go with him tomorrow night when he tells them. He thinks they’ll be mad, but I think once they get over the shock, they’ll be okay. Jacob’s pride is keeping him from asking them for help, just like it kept him from telling me for the past month, but I’m hoping he’ll come to his senses soon. There’s no room for pride as a parent.”

  Noah and I learned that lesson quickly. “If Jacob needs to move in with us, then he moves in with us, but I think we all need to sit down and discuss his objectives for the future before making any big decisions.”

  “Agreed.” Noah places an arm around me, and I wrap my arms around him in need of his comforting hug. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

  “Yes, but you can tell me again.”

  “I love you more than you can imagine.”

  I can imagine pretty big, but I believe him. “I love you, too.”

  We stand there, hugging each other then turn our heads to watch as our children play and laugh. This is life, real life. There’s always going to be an issue, but it’s how we love each other through it that counts. That’s how Noah and I have our happily ever after.

  Chapter 31

  Beth

  I glance at the clock—seven a.m. It’s time for me to leave, yet instead of heading to the locker room to change, I watch as they wheel the bed away. The teen on it is heading for surgery. I hope he makes it. He’s got too much life in front of him not to.

  A squeeze of my shoulder, and Dr. Clark smiles as she passes. “Good job, Beth.”

  My response is a chin lift, and then I lean back against the wall. I am utterly and completely exhausted. A teenager walked in—walked in—to the ER after a car accident, and collapsed at the front desk. That was one of those “work fast, be thankful for years of trauma experience” moments. The kid crashed, but we were able to stabilize him. It was a long night, and as nausea sloshes around in my stomach, I have doubts I’ll cover anyone’s overnight shift ever again.

  “Don’t you have an appointment this morning?” Renee asks in a sugary tone. She’s escorting a worn-out mother and her child to a room. The kid is holding a tray to his mouth in case he vomits. I hate flu season.

  Seventeen-year-old me wants to flip Renee off. Instead, I glare.

  She laughs at my expression, and I shake my head. We went through nursing school together, have navigated the ups and downs of being in a profession where we’re underpaid, underappreciated and overworked. More important, we’ve lived through having to act confident when we were really scared to death.

  And today, she knows I’m terrified. I’m a far cry from the girl who left a rough neighborhood and an even rougher home life. But days like today, I don’t feel years removed from the frightened seventeen-year-old who had an exterior of stone. Right now, I feel like I could reach out and she would be so real I could take her hand—that is if she let anyone near.

  An unwanted hot flash rolls through my body, and I duck into an empty room and breathe out to keep from dry-heaving. “Not now.” Though I’m not sure I want to go through this later either.

  “And I was just crazy enough to think I’d find you in bed at home.”

  My heart beats so hard that it almost flies out of my chest, and the sight of those kind dark eyes causes every sore muscle in my body to relax. Ryan closes the door behind him, walks toward me and, for once, I’m speechless. Could be due to the exhaustion. Could be because he isn’t supposed to be here. Could be that after all these years he still takes my breath away.

  Ryan was built when we were teens, but the man in front of me now makes the seventeen-year-old I initially fell in love with look like a beanpole. He’s broad-shouldered, defined muscle and all man.

  Wearing jeans, a T-shirt and a baseball cap, he stops in front of me, and I smirk as I reach up and touch the scruff on his jaw. It’s not a long beard, but if things go as planned for his team, it probably will be in a few weeks.

  I’m not a fan of the facial hair, and he knows it, but there are concessions when you’re married to a major league pitcher. Not just any major league pitcher, but a fan favorite, leader in league strikes, and the man on the cover of every sports magazine in the country.

  Daily, there’s a part of me that’s amazed that I’m his wife.

  Ryan gives me a heart-squeezing grin. “It’s playoffs. Facial hair is part of the territory.”

  Oh, October, how I alternately love and loathe you. I roll my eyes to make him chuckle then lean into him. With my head on his chest, I close my eyes. He wraps his arms around me, reminding me of a thick, safe blanket, and I swear to God I could fall asleep on my feet.

  “I’d like to kiss you,” he says. “But should I?”

  “Flu season is starting early this year, so nope. You probably shouldn’t be hugging me either. At least not until I take a decontamination bath.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “I missed you,” I whisper into his chest, and he hugs me tighter.

  “I missed you more.” Even though I warned him, he kisses the top of my head.

  My lips squish to the side as I realize how badly I suck as a baseball player’s wife. “Wow. That game last night….” I intentionally trail off, and his shoulders shake with his laughter.

  “We won.”

  I squeeze him with joy. “Congratulations. And I’m sorry I didn’t know. I checked between patients and you were up one in the bottom of the fourth, but then we got slammed.”

  “Busy night in the ER?”

  “Yeah.” I barely had time to breathe.

  “Bad night?” he asks.

  I sigh heavily, and he holds me as if he would take on the emotional burden of my bad night. It wasn’t just a bad night, it was a terrible one. We lost a patient—a man with a family. Two GSWs, both too young, so young they can’t even v
ote. Multiple drug overdoses, and one premature baby with RSV that had to be put on the ventilator. I hope that the teen they just wheeled away makes it, because I need some good news.

  He kisses the top of my head again. “I’m sorry.”

  I draw back, and he keeps his arms around me. He’s been gone several days, and all I want to do is touch him and keep touching him and then sleep for a week. “What are you doing here? I thought your plane wasn’t going to land until later this morning.”

  He had booked his flight so he could be back in time for the wedding.

  “You honestly think I could stay away from this appointment?” Ryan had a late game last night—on the west coast.

  “Have you slept?” I ask.

  “On the plane. Have you?” he counters.

  I don’t answer because I haven’t, and I promised him yesterday, via video chat before he went to the stadium, that I was going to take it easy. But worried about today, I couldn’t stay still, so when I received a call asking if I could fill in, I said yes. “I told you it’s not serious.”

  He silences me with the tenderness in his eyes and the tuck of a stray piece of my blond hair behind my ear. There’s still a few streaks of black in my hair and a few streaks of red. Even though I’m a charge nurse for the ER, I’ve never fully embraced conventional.

  “You need to sleep,” I say. “You’re the best man.”

  Ryan has the most incredulous expression. “Who gets married during playoffs?”

  I raise an eyebrow as I still don’t know how to explain that the sun doesn’t rise and set around baseball for the rest of the world as it does for him. “Did you hire a private plane?”

  He shrugs.

  I point at him. “You promised me normal. You became a big boy major league pitcher and you promised me normal. Private planes aren’t normal.”

  “We can afford a few private flights, and if doing so gets me here in time to be with you when you need me, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “I’m okay. The doctor said my bloodwork looked good. She said she just wants to take a look. This is what happens when I make friends. They do random things like being overly concerned.”