Anything For Family

by Lola StVil

  “You know we’re only going there to ask questions, right?” I remind Lawson.

  “We’re going there to get information. How we do that is up to whoever answers the door. We could be nice guys, or we could be assholes. It’s up to them.”

  Yeah, this won’t go well.

  ***

  When we get to the address, we find an apartment building under construction. There’s no one else around. Whoever it was already cleared out. We ransack the apartment and find nothing worthwhile. Lawson is seething. And before I can stop him, he puts his fist through the wall.

  Fuck.

  We get back in the car, and I don’t lecture him. I hate when people do that shit to me. He was pissed; he made a decision, and now his hand may very well be broken. That’s a price he was willing to pay. And while it may be high, he’s a grown fucking man, and that’s what he wanted to do.

  But then he tries to tell me that he doesn’t need medical care. Yeah, right. His hand is red, swollen, and could very well be broken. I should know: my brother and I broke damn near every bone in our bodies doing dumb shit as kids. I pull into the hospital parking lot.

  “I don’t need to be here,” Lawson says.

  I don’t reply. I don’t give fucking speeches. He’s a grown-up. He knows damn well he needs to suck that shit up and get his ass inside.

  “I’m really fucking serious, man. I don’t need to be here,” he says.

  I don’t reply. I just give him one last look and then get out of the car and walk towards the entrance. I don’t look back. Like I said before, he’s a grown fucking man. If he wants to walk around with a broken hand, then fine. But I brought his ass to the ER, and that was my part of the deal. When I get to the admission desk, I find that Lawson is right behind me. He glares at me as one of the nurses leads him down the hallway.

  “Asshole,” he whispers, only half joking.

  “Yeah, love you too, dickhead,” I reply. We normally insult each other. That’s how we know we’re friends. The staff tells me that the doctor will most likely want to x-ray his hand, and they ask me to take a seat. Great. Another hospital.

  I check in with the agency and update them. They aren’t happy with Lawson and want me to stay with him to ensure he doesn’t lose his shit again. I’m tempted to remind them that I’m not a babysitting service. But then I think back on how angry Lawson was, and I agree to keep an eye on him. Once he’s done here and I drop him off at home, I can head back to the agency and try to find another lead. Hopefully, Bot will have gotten something by then.

  While I wait around for Lawson, I travel the halls looking for a coffee vending machine. What I would actually like is a stiff drink. But I’m on duty, and that can’t happen right now. I find a machine on the third floor, in the NICU. I walk by and look through the window. There are rows and rows of babies, some with tubes going in and out of their little bodies.

  I say a silent prayer for them. I don’t know how much it helps, because I prayed like hell for Rose and she still died. But then again, it may not have been the prayer that failed. It may be that God doesn’t take calls from guys like me.

  I’m just about to round the corner when I spot someone entering the nursery. The woman is wearing scrubs. She picks up one of the babies and cradles him in her arms. She smiles at him as she rocks him. Her smile is unforgettable.

  Shelby.

  What is she doing here? My damn heart just won’t stay in my chest. I’m taken by how much I’ve missed her given the fact that it’s only been a few hours. I’d like to walk in there and be with her. But this isn’t a fucking romance book. The woman is married and has an entire life I don’t know about. She wants nothing to do with me, and I damn sure don’t want a married woman in my life.

  In fact, I don’t want any woman for longer than a night. That’s always been my way, and it has never been an issue. I don’t do relationships. I’m hardly ever in the country long enough to commit to a bottled water delivery company, let alone a woman.

  Great, now that we’ve established that, walk away. Get the coffee, or better yet, just get on the elevator and walk away, Agent Hunter.

  My mind knows all the reasons why I should just take off, but instead, I stand by the window and watch her. She’s too involved with the baby to notice me. She’s in love with the kid. She cradles him with such care; she’d make a great mom.

  That is if she isn’t one already. Gage, you idiot, you know nothing about this woman! So get your ass back downstairs and forget this ever happened.

  I move away from the nursery, but I don’t head for the elevator as I should. Instead, I walk towards the nursery station on the opposite end. A woman in her early sixties, with gray eyes and glasses, sits behind the desk, attending to a stack of files.

  “May I help you?” the woman asks, not bothering to take her eyes off the files.

  “Yeah, I was wondering if you could tell me something about the woman in the nursery. Does she work here, and if so, for how long?”

  “I’m guessing you are referring to Shelby. She’s the only volunteer signed up right now. And I assure you, she isn’t looking to date.”

  “What? No, I’m not trying to date her.”

  “Sure, right. You know, we get inquiries all the time about her. And let me save you some time, she’s not interested,” the nurse says, still not making eye contact.

  I reply with a firm tone so she knows this is a serious inquiry. “Again, not why I’m asking.” That gets her to look up at me for the first time. Her eyes start to dance, and her small lips curve into a smile.

  “Hello,” she says with renewed interest as she looks me over.

  “Hi, Nurse…”

  “Flint,” she says, pointing to her name tag.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Nurse Flint.”

  “No, it’s okay,” she says.

  “How are you?” I ask.

  “You’re fine—I mean, I’m fine,” she says, and she begins to giggle slightly. Her cheeks get flushed, and she bows her head, trying to hide her face.

  “Nurse Flint, I’m not interested in her like that. We pulled into the parking garage together, and as I got out, I dinged her car. I was trying to figure out if she was cool and would just send me a bill or if she was the litigious type.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. Shelby’s a sweetheart.”

  “Oh really?”

  The nurse waves her hand in a carefree manner.

  “Oh yeah. She’s great. To tell you the truth, when she first came in here to volunteer, I thought to myself, ‘She’s just another rich socialite, pretending to care but all the while only doing it for bragging rights.’ I can’t stand those women. They use charity like it’s some kind of damn accessory. They just want selfies of them ‘doing good.’”

  “And this woman isn’t like that?”

  “No, not at all. In fact, she shies away from that.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “I don’t know. She’s really good with the babies, I have to say. And she brings us nurses treats all the time. Last week she brought in a double chocolate cake with the most amazing filling.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Oh no, I didn’t have any. I’m watching my figure,” she says in a girlish tone.

  “You don’t need to do that. You look great,” I assure her.

  “Thank you. I’m in a class—water aerobics. Three times a week.”

  “I’m impressed,” I reply. She smirks. I ask her what she thinks of Shelby personally.

  “Well, I’ll you this: There’s this homeless guy, Gary. He’s off his meds, and no one around here can get him to go back on them. I give him a few dollars when I see him. He’s always going on and on about Shelby. He tells me how much he loves her. So one day, I asked him, ‘Gary, how much money does Shelby give you?’ And he said, ‘She never gives me any money.’”

  “Why was he so in love with her then?”

  “Instead of giving him cash, she would ta
ke him to the café across the street and let him get whatever we wanted. Then the two of them would sit and eat together. Turns out, Gary has a love for cowboy flicks, and the two of them would talk about his favorite flick, High Noon. He called his lunches with Shelby the ‘High noon club.’ She promised that if he took his meds like he was supposed to, they’d have a ‘high noon club’ meeting once a week.”

  “She held up her end of the deal?”

  “Every week for a year now. It’s the reason Gary still takes his meds. She’s a good soul,” she says with a hint of sadness in her voice.

  “Nurse Flint, what is it?”

  She looks around to make sure we are not being overheard and says, “You ever get the feeling that someone is in trouble but can’t really pinpoint what the issue is?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I get that feeling when it comes to her. She’s rich. She’s pretty. And she’s really unhappy.”

  “And you don’t know why?”

  “No, but I suspect it has to do with her home life. She never talks about it, but what else can it be? I bet that husband of hers is cheating on her. Men are such dogs.”

  “Have you met her husband?”

  “No, and she never talks about him. But I can tell you that she’s misplaced that ring of hers twice already. It’s a huge rock, why wouldn’t she be more careful with it? I’ll tell you why. She hates her marriage…”

  “Why doesn’t she leave him? What the hell is going on with her?” I ask myself.

  The nurse watches me with growing interest and says, “Something tells me this isn’t about a ding to her car.”

  I could easily spend the day in the nursery holding the little ones. In fact, I have done that more than a few times. It’s not just holding them that I like—it’s being able to give them the warmth that they were denied for whatever reason. I take them in my arms and together we plan out a beautiful future.

  The other volunteers make fun of me, but I have all the babies’ futures mapped out. And I must say I have an impressive group of future leaders. Some of them go into politics and actually create a positive change. I have others that blaze the trail in the field of math and science. And of course, while they are doing this, they are dressed to impress. I know, I know, right now most of them are just working on getting bigger and holding their heads up on their own, but someday, these babies are gonna fire up the world.

  “Shelby, you asked me to remind when you it’s noon,” Nurse Flint says as she enters the nursery.

  “Oh, thanks. I have an appointment, and I can’t miss it,” I reply. I turn my attention back to baby Carla, in the incubator. “Okay, sweetie, I have to go. But next week, when I come back, we’ll discuss how to break the school to prison pipeline, why equal pay for women is good for everyone, and why you should never, ever wear Crocs.”

  Nurse Flint laughs at me as I air kiss the glass and head out the door. She follows me with an odd, knowing smile on her face.

  “Is everything okay?’ I ask.

  “Yes, I just…nothing. Have a good day,” she says. I’m not sure what that’s about, but I don’t have time to find out. I enter the small changing room to fix myself up. When I’m in the nursery, I always put my hair up, wear flats, and I wear no perfume; it’s what the hospital requires. It’s kind of a pain, but I’d do anything to hold my little guys.

  Holding the kids is the only thing that kept my mind from thinking about Gage. Since he dropped me off, he’s been my only thought, and that scares me more than I’d ever say out loud. I find myself wondering what he’s doing and who he’s with right now. It’s stupid because the guy is kind, smart, rich, and hot enough to melt metal. So, I’m sure he’s surrounded by women and having a great time. Yup, there’s no denying it, right now, Gage Hunter is probably retrieving grapes from some woman’s large breasts.

  Really, Shelby? Fruit?

  Okay, maybe that’s too much. But I’m sure he’s with a woman. Maybe there’s no fruit involved, but they are definitely having the time of their lives.

  Shelby, what does it matter?! He’s somewhere with a woman. He’s too hot and too amazing not to be. And that’s okay because you are not looking for a man. In fact, you’re running from one—a man who started out great too. And then reality hit, like a slap in the face.

  I’d like to say in my defense that I am trying not to think about him. I was actually successful at blocking out the superficial parts—like how his large hands would feel sliding down my body. I stopped myself from picturing his lips gliding across my nipples, exploring me. I made it my mission to not think about his easy smile, quick wit, and spectacular build.

  But while I was able to stop the above thoughts, I was unable to get his eyes out of my head. His eyes are serious, sincere, and filled with genuine concern. It’s so obvious when he looks at me that it rocks me to my core. Can that kind of thing be faked? Can someone use his or her eyes to pretend to care? Isn’t that part of the con that men run on women?

  Yes, it is, but I won’t be taken in, not again. Not by anyone.

  I change into my heels, wash my face, and apply a little makeup. I take my hair down and look myself over once again. I look very well put together. Ironic, since I’m mostly falling apart.

  No, you’re not! You are getting your life together, finally! And it will take time, but we are doing it. This is a good thing. Leaving was a good thing. And now even if you mess up, at least it’s on your own terms, Shelby.

  I take one last look and smile at myself. I got this. I went to a bar. Handled myself and I’m still here. Great. Now, I just need to stop thinking about Gage, and I will be on the right track—there. No more Gage. Or whatever his name was. Yup, don’t even remember his name.

  Gage Hunter. Kind. Smart. Witty. Hot.

  ARGH!

  I grab my handbag and make my way out the door and down to the elevator. Once inside, I remind myself that I will never lay eyes on the guy again, so I can think about him and it won’t matter because we will never see each other again. There. That does it. I start to relax and calm down. I have to think of Gage like some hot guy you sit next to on a flight. He goes his way, and I go mine.

  Okay, I did it! No more thoughts of Gage… Who rocks? I do!

  The elevator door opens onto the low-level parking, and I walk out. I make my way towards my car and stop dead in my tracks.

  Gage. Fuck. Me.

  “Wonder…” he says in the deepest, sexiest voice I have ever heard. I swallow hard. Something is coming over me. It starts from the center of my chest and resonates through my body. What the hell is this feeling? It’s a wave of something odd, something unfamiliar but not entirely new to me—happiness. Oh shit, I am happy to see him.

  God, I’m in so far over my head.

  I hate him. I hate him for making me feel happy and for destroying what little resistance I was starting to build up.

  “Gage,” I reply. It’s all I can manage to say out loud.

  “Wow, I’m sorry,” he says in a whisper.

  “For what?”

  “You look…disappointed. Like you’re sorry to see me. Are you?” he asks. The intensity of his stare is hard to take.

  “I didn’t say—what are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I came here with a friend; he hurt his hand. And I saw you in the nursery. I asked about you…”

  “Nurse Flint,” I conclude.

  “Yeah, she gave me some info.”

  “Yeah, I bet she did,” I mumble.

  “You’re really married?”

  “Yes,” I reply as my stomach dips.

  “Happily?”

  The question throws me. I’ve never been asked that before.

  “No,” I reply. I could have lied, but fuck it, that’s the truth, and I’m tired of having to hide it. He takes a step towards me, and instinctively I take a step back. That surprises him.

  “Wait, Wonder, are you afraid of me?”

  “I told you I didn’t want to see you and yet h
ere you are. We’re in a dark parking lot… What am I supposed to think? So, yeah, I’m afraid of you.”

  “After everything, you think I could hurt you?” he asks, sounding hurt himself.

  I don’t reply, but that silence tells him all he needs to know. He nods to himself slowly and goes back to an official tone.

  “You’re right. You asked me to stay away, and I should have. I talked to the nurse, and she thought that something could be wrong, and I kind of thought the same thing too. But if my being here scares you—in any way—I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again. But can you just do me a favor?” he asks.

  “What?”

  “If there is something wrong, talk to someone—anyone. I’d hate the thought of you needing help and not having it. So, whatever is wrong, whatever you’re facing, don’t do it alone. I have, and it…it kind of sucks. Be safe,” he says as he walks away.

  “Gage, wait!”

  Shit, who the hell said that? Oh, yeah. Me.

  He turns to face me. It surprises me how well I can read him. He’s not pained or tortured that I sent him away. He’s resigned. He’s accepted it. There’s maturity to his acceptance. It’s a disciplined response that screams some kind of official training. Was he in the Army? Was he Navy? Something, aside from his size, tells me he has control most men lack.

  “If I told you to keep walking away and never, ever call me or see me again, you’d do that, wouldn’t you?” I ask almost to myself.

  “I don’t stalk women. I was worried about you. You say you’re fine and you want this to stop; I will do as you ask.” He starts to turn away again.

  “How is she?” I call out.

  “Who?” he says without turning around.

  “Your friend who hurt her hand.”

  “It’s a guy. And he’s having a great time right now; they’ve got him on some really good drugs.”