Present Day
Stillness is in the air today. The cold weather clears my head, though I’m still sleepy, and it begs me to retreat back into the warmth of my bed. But I forge on, desperate for the exercise and mental refresher.
It’s my first day off from the hospital in two weeks. The winter season has kept the doors revolving with every mutation of the flu, viruses, and other nasty shit referenced between coworkers as “the crud.”
I tug on my zipper, securing my body heat inside my hoodie as I stroll down the deserted street. The citizens of Madison are either snuggled in front of their roaring fireplaces or knee-deep in work. Not many in-between activities are offered when you live in a small town. We literally have one grocery store, three gas stations, and a hardware store. By the grace of God, we have a few mom-and-pop restaurants. We’re southern, we like to eat.
I’ve been working part-time in the emergency room at our local hospital, St. Francis, since completing my sports medicine residency with Theo’s team, the Nationals. Since Theo is a pitcher, he only plays once a week in their current pitching rotation, leaving me plenty of downtime. I fly home as often as possible, reveling in the quiet of my small town. The constant traveling is exhausting. I’m not so sure the city life is for me.
Speaking of Theo, I haven’t heard from him today. He’s been busy with spring training for the past month and a half. I flew out not too long ago on one of his off days, and we traveled to Orlando for a mini vacay. Mickey Mouse didn’t stand a chance with us running amok in the land of dreams. Ride after ride we laughed and joked freely busting each other’s chops like we always do. It’s not often we get a chance to just hang out.
If I’m honest, I kind of miss the asshole. My involvement with the team is minimal during spring training as opposed to games. Plenty of trainers are on hand in case of injuries during their preseason training. I have no doubt Theo will call if he needs me.
My breath billows out, hovering in front of me like one of those cartoon chat bubbles. It’s oddly comforting. My brain jumps through ideas as I take in the open farmland surrounding the deserted road. I need a hobby, something to do other than be at Theo’s beck and call. I have my job at St. Francis, but that’s only because I’m bored sitting at home during the off season. I could use some fun in my life, something that makes me happy. Something just for me.
Maybe painting? I could paint. How hard could it be? You take a canvas, paint, slap it on in random places and voila! Abstract art!
Nah. Too sedentary. I need something wild. Fun. Entertaining.
Along Old Mill Road, which runs along my grandparents’ property (which is actually mine now), birds chirp, reminding me that summer will be here soon. For years, I have associated summer with one thing: baseball.
During the season, Theo stays with me here at the plantation. I’m one hundred percent sure it’s because he’s a cheap ass and hiding out from the media deep within the country. After all, he has his own penthouse in Atlanta as well as one in Washington. But some days when we’re laying in the grass, sun on our faces, breeze in our hair, I think maybe he just misses the simplicity of how our lives used to be. Before Major League Baseball. Before medical school. Before that night our relationship changed.
The new Bieber song pops in my head (I know, but it’s so catchy) and I start humming since I don’t know all the words. My arms swing to the beat as a chill flows along my skin, leaving a trail of bumps in its wake. It’s probably time to turn back and head inside. I don’t know how much more of this cold I can stand.
With a sigh, I turn back the way I came, when out of the corner of my eye I spot blankets wadded up, tossed carelessly in the ditch. Fucking assholes. I get so tired of picking up after litterers. Have some respect people!
I charge over to the trench and grasp the corner of the disgusting material, ready to yank when my hand hits something solid. I squeal a girly noise and jump back, clutching my chest in surprise. Did I just fucking touch a dead deer or something?
Curious, I creep back over, careful not to startle whatever it is. I damn sure don’t want it charging me. Inch after inch, I close in on the mysterious thing and see that the tattered blanket is rising and falling rhythmically, almost like it’s breathing. Holy shit! Did I just find an abandoned baby?
Worry forgotten, I jerk the threadbare blanket back and reveal… a man. Well, at least I think it’s a man. He’s in the fetal position. His eyes are closed, his body shivering almost violently. Oh, God. His clothes are filthy and littered with holes, his skin sunken to the bone. This man is obviously dehydrated and malnourished.
A bum. He’s homeless, living out on the street. As much as I want to judge this man and just cover him back up and leave, the doctor in me insists I make sure he’s okay. Bum or not, he’s a human being.
I reach out, hesitating a moment before I place the back of my hand on his forehead. Fear starts to creep in. What if he’s crazy and lunges at me, or worse, mugs me? Well, it’s not like I brought any money or anything. Just my phone.
“Please, Lord, watch over me,” I pray before allowing my hand to make contact. The man doesn’t open his eyes, which worries me. His skin is freezing. He may be suffering from hypothermia, especially if he lives out here. It’s been one of our coldest winters in the past five years.
I shake the man softly.
“Sir. Sir. Can you open your eyes for me?”
He doesn’t. I lower to my knees, concerned, and place my fingers to the side of his neck and feel for a pulse. I can barely make out the shallow rhythm.
Ready to call 911, I unlock my cellphone and tap in the first number when I hear, “I’ll move. Don’t call the police.”
My eyes go wide in shock. He’s awake, and he thinks I am waking him to move off the property? His eyes blink. One, two, three times, before his eyelids reveal murky mint irises. Beautiful green eyes blaze back at me in confusion. And let me clarify that these are the most magnificent green eyes I have ever witnessed in all my years. They’re gorgeous. I’m staring, my manners going completely out the door as I rake my gaze down this man, taking in his strong jawline that appears even more defined with his cheeks sunken and hollow. Strong angular cheekbones protrude from his face, a dark five o’clock shadow blanketing the lower part of his face, giving him a rugged look. Healthy, this man would totally be on my radar. I would flaunt my ass in front of him until he agreed to go out with me just to get me to stop.
I’m lost in my fantasy of my new rugged friend, when I realize his green eyes are settled on my hand, still on his head. I pull back on instinct.
“You’re freezing. I think you are hypothermic,” I explain, hoping he mistakes my blush for windburn.
He frowns, making a soft noise as he shuffles himself into a seated position.
“I’m fine.” His voice is raspy, slurred from the cold. He attempts to stand, trying to get away from me. But only groans instead, letting his head rest back against the grass in exhaustion. Definitely hypothermic.
“You’re not fine,” I admonish, giving him my don’t-argue-with-me look.
His breathing turns shallow as he starts to drift off to sleep again. Oh shit. “Do not fall asleep!” I shout, startling his beautiful eyes open.
He pulls his arm over his face, hiding those gorgeous emeralds. “Leave me alone, lady.”
“I’m calling an ambulance,” I argue, pulling out my phone, finger poised on the nine.
“No,” he mumbles. “I won’t go.”
What a stubborn ass.
“I’m not leaving you here to die.” I mean, really, what kind of person would I be if I just walked away now, doctor or not?
His eyes narrow to slits. He looks pissed, but that doesn’t bother me. Get in line, dude. Male assholeness is no match for me.
“Go away,” he repeats, his words slow and muffled.
Too bad for him I am the bigger stubborn-ass. I roll my eyes, annoyed, and with a resigned huff, I reach for his arm. “Come on, dude. Let me get you warmed up then I promise to let you go so you can die another day.”
He just stares at me for the longest moment. I keep my hand extended, waiting for him to take hold. When he doesn’t, I latch on to him and pull. Hard. He grunts from the motion but doesn’t move. For a scrawny guy, he sure is heavy.
“We can do this my way or the hard way. Either way, You. Will. Do. It. Now, come on!”
He looks at my outstretched hand once more before he clasps it and helps me haul him up. Shit. He’s heavier than I thought. And tall. He must be a least six-two. Suddenly, this rescue mission doesn’t look like such a great idea.
My newly acquired bum throws his arm over my shoulder and tries to walk, stumbling several times.
“We’re going to take it slow. Okay?” I think he nods, but I can’t be sure. It’s taking all I have to stay upright myself. But he does start to take small steps, thank goodness. Have I mentioned the smell? It’s not quite a sewer smell, but it reminds me of an attic that had a wet dog living in it for a month or two. Maybe four.
We’ve developed a rhythm somewhat after a few minutes and while my back is pissed at me for the added weight, I don’t slow down. This man really needs a doctor.
“What’s your name?” I ask to keep him talking.
He grunts and I start to think he isn’t going to answer me but then he looks over and with chattering teeth stutters, “C-C-ade.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Cade. I’m Anniston McCallister.”
He nods his head but doesn’t offer anything else to the conversation.
I try again. “You know, Cade, you’re pretty cold. It would really make me happy if you would allow me to take you to the hospital.” I give him my please-Theo smile.
It doesn’t work. He just stares at me with those striking green eyes. “No.”
Okay. I see how it’s going to be. I blow out a harsh breath, agitated at this butthead and his lack of self-preservation skills. Think, Anniston, think. Where the fuck are you going to take him? Home? Theo will flip his shit if he finds out you brought a strange man into the house, alone.
But what am I supposed to do? He won’t go to the hospital. Am I supposed to leave him on the porch like a stray dog, with a bowl of food and an old towel? No, he needs help. Theo will just have to deal. And if he kills me, well, then I’ll be dead and Theo won’t have a chance to scream at me. Problem solved.
“Fine,” I relent. “But when we get to my house, you will allow me to check you over.” When he continues to stare, I add, “I’m a doctor. I can help you.” I give him a hesitant smile. Desperate, I lay it on thick. “Please, let me help you, Cade.”
He blinks several times like he’s not sure if I am real or not. I guess he decides that he has nothing to lose because he gives me a curt nod.
After a grueling mile-long walk with multiple stops to rest, we finally arrive at my country plantation. I help Cade up the steps of the front porch and prop him against the side of the house so I can get the door unlocked.
We stumble through the door awkwardly, Cade lethargic and circling the drain quickly. I need to get his body warmed up pronto. Maneuvering him through the expansive hallways toward the main floor bathroom, I explain, “I need to get you warmed up, okay?”
He’s not responding and getting heavier by the second. I squeeze us through what seems to be the smallest bathroom door, but actually is wider than a normal doorway. Cade is just so big and trying to pull him through limp like a noodle is a tight fit. Leaving Cade to crumple onto the tiled floor, I start the water in the clawfoot tub.
I give him a little shake. “Cade. Cade. Open your eyes for me.”
He does, thank goodness, but his lips are blue. Oh shit. I open the vanity drawers, trying to find some scissors.
“Can you talk to me, Cade?”
His eyes droop as he ignores my questions.
“Don’t close your eyes!” I yell.
He forces them open with a great effort.
With scissors in hand, I explain, “Cade. I have to get you warm. I’m going to cut your clothes off and get you in the tub.” I make the first cut through his shirt as he mumbles something. I’m working at the button on his jeans when he grabs my hand, preventing me from undressing him further.
“Nnnoooo.”
I smirk. “I’m not trying to rape you. I’m just trying to get you warmed up. Don’t worry, I’ve seen a small penis before if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
He starts to pass out, falling into my arms. What a shame, I’m sure he would’ve had a good comeback to my quip. Cradling Cade to my chest, I lower him down gently, doing the best I can with dead weight.
“Come on, Cade. Wake up, buddy.”
I get his button undone and slide his pants down his thighs, revealing skin that is ashen and blue. Oh fuck, Anniston. You should have taken him to the hospital.
I leave his boxers on because I am out of time.
“Cade. Come on, dude. Help me get you in the tub.”
He groans out something that sounds a lot like just leave me, but I ignore it. I have a rule about people dying on my floor. I keep pulling, and eventually, he becomes more alert and helps me get him over the ledge and into the water, splashing me as his large body hits the water.
I reach in and lift his head out of the water. Readjusting him is much easier in the water. I keep encouraging him to stay with me as I pilfer through the vanity to find a thermometer. I coax him to place it under his tongue, which he does with some protest. A minute later it beeps with a reading of 93.3. Fuck!
Think, Anniston, think! This man is going to die in your tub. How the fuck are you going to explain it to the cops? Yes, officer, I picked up this homeless guy, brought him to my home, put him in the tub where he died. Not such a great idea, Ans.
I get up to dart into the kitchen for something hot when it occurs to me that he may drown if I leave him alone. I shake him once again. “Cade. I need to get you something warm to drink. Can you stay awake for me?”
He nods. I’m not convinced but I’ll just have to be quick.
I streak through the house, turning up the heat and grabbing a little space heater I stashed in the closet last spring. A quick peek at Cade confirms his head is above water, his eyes still closed. I’ll take what I can get. I dash into the kitchen, knocking shit over as I go. Plugging in the kettle, I rummage around, finding everything I need.
The kettle comes to a boil quickly and I take the whole thing, along with a tea bag and cup, into the bathroom. Once I have the heater plugged in, I pour the tea. Yes, in the bathroom. I know it’s gross, but he’s dying and a bum. He’s probably used to this sort of thing.
Letting the tea steep, I move back to the tub and splash a little water on Cade’s shoulders. His eyes open and I give him a small, pitiful smile. My heart aches for this man who doesn’t care if he lives or dies.
“Thank you.”
Shocked that he thanked me, I keep pouring water over his frozen body. “You’re welcome. Can you drink some tea for me?” His lips aren’t as blue anymore. The water is helping.
He nods slightly. “I think so.”
I reach for the tea and carefully place it in his hands, but they’re shaking. So instead of letting go of the cup, I wrap my hands around his and help him bring the cup to his mouth. “Small sips, okay? It’s hot.”
He takes a hesitant sip and hisses.
“I told you it was hot, dumbass.” Oops. That slipped out quickly. “Sorry. I have a mouth like a sailor. I make it a New Year’s resolution every year to be more ladylike, but as you can tell, it’s still a work in progress.”
The sight before me is like looking at the sun, bright and beautiful. Cade is smiling at me. Smiling, I tell you!
“You did tell me. My apologies ma’am.”
Holy fucking shit! I try not to let my mouth hang open more than it already is. He’s southern, really southern. Ma’am? Only good ole southerners still say ma’am, especially to younger women. Theo doesn’t even say ma’am, and he was born here. I’m excited that he’s talking to me. That’s a good sign.
“Let’s try again, shall we?” He nods, keeping that gorgeous smile trained on me. He sips again, this time not burning his tongue. “Good job. Can you get the rest down?”
He coughs but manages a yes. I help him get the rest of the tea down before taking his temperature again. 95.7 and climbing, slowly, but it’s climbing.
“Your temperature is coming up. I’m going to add more hot water, okay?” He nods. “How bout more tea? Can you drink another cup?”
His face scrunches up like he’s in pain. Chuckling, I inquire, “Was it that bad?” He shakes his head but I’m sure that’s what he meant. I try to negotiate. “I can add some honey or sugar to it if you promise to stay awake and keep your head up.” I cock an eyebrow at him, waiting for his acceptance. “Deal?”
“Deal,” he croaks.
This time I make his tea in the kitchen like a civilized host. When I return, he is splashing the water over his own chest, his color pinker by the minute.
“You’re looking better already.”
He looks down at his expansive chest, a scowl on his face. I didn’t notice in my rush to get him warm, but his upper body is riddled with scars. Thick, jagged gashes are literally covering his chest and torso, all healed. They must be a couple years old given the coloring of the scars.
I clear my throat, diverting my eyes and hand him the teacup. “Can you hold it?”
He nods and starts to drink while I pour more water over his scarred chest. When he announces he’s done with the tea, I take the cup and grab the thermometer. He groans. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” I thump my chest and mock in my best Tarzan voice, “Me man. Me healed.”
Cade releases a burst of laughter, its raspy sound comforting like I’ve known it for years. Smiling, I push the thermometer close to his face and he opens his mouth without any more protests. The thermometer reads out 96.9. Good enough.
I look at Cade, holding his eyes. “I’m going to round you up some clothes.”
He stares at me without answering immediately. “You don’t have to do that.”
I smile and caress his cheek with a quick stroke of my palm, nodding to the side of the tub. “There is some soap and shampoo. Wash up.” I leave quickly before he can break my heart more.
I find Cade some of Theo’s sweats and a shirt to wear. They look similar in size. When I return and set the folded clothes on the counter, the bathroom is hotter than the seventh circle of hell.
“I sure hope you have warmed up because I am about to melt in here.” Eying a scrubbed Cade, I wink. “All nice and clean?”
He grins at me and tries hard not to laugh. “Yes, Mom.”
“Good boy!” I praise and hand him a towel. “Here are some clothes for you. I’ll wait outside the door.” He nods as I pull the door closed behind me and consider the guest bedroom down the hall.
Pushing aside the memory of my father, the pain that haunts my childhood memories, I realize why I felt so compelled to offer compassion to Cade. It wasn’t because of my ethical duty as a doctor. It’s because—I can’t even finish the thought, the memory still raw. Deep down, I understand the reason behind my actions but still, I can’t believe I am about to tuck a stray bum in my guest bedroom. I’ve officially lost it.
In the spare, I check the sheets and pull on an electric blanket. Being that it’s an old house, there is a fireplace in every room. I converted them to gas a couple years ago because I am not a wood-chopping girl. I flip the switch and enjoy the roar of the fire.
Satisfied that Cade will be comfortable, I make my way back to the bathroom. The door is still closed so I give it a couple raps just to check on him. “Are you alright?”
It opens slowly, Cade standing there awkward and a little shaky. I wedge my body up against his like before. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
At the doorway, his tired eyes take in the room languidly. I push him to the bed and pulling the blankets back, encourage him to lie down. He complies slowly, his freshly washed body stretching out to fill the full-size bed, his eyes already drifting closed.
“Not so fast, Gorgeous.” I reveal the thermometer in my hand. Cade grimaces but opens wide.
His body temperature has dropped a little. I frown and pull the blankets over him.
“I’m going to get you another blanket. Your temp is dropping some.”
“This is more than enough. Thank you.” He stills my hand from fussing with the blanket, his face haggard, cheeks red from the elements.
I pat his hand before standing. “One more.”
He sighs. “I’m guessing you don’t get told no very often.”
I smile and flash him a little wink. “No one would dare.”
When I return with the thickest quilt I can find, Cade is curled back into the fetal position like I found him. I wonder if it’s a defensive position or if this man is truly broken, inside and out.
I double the blanket, positioning it on his torso, making sure the heat stays centered over his heart. You worry about the internal organs staying warm the most. People can live without an arm but if the heart stops beating…
I rub down his back. “You think you can eat some soup?”
He rolls over to face me. “You don’t have to do all this for me.”
I give him the stink eye before I answer. “That’s not what I asked you. Would you like for me to repeat the question?”
He sighs, defeated. “Yes, ma’am. I think I can keep some down.” I give him a whole-faced smile and pat his thigh. “See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”
He shakes his head, lightly chuckling. “No, I guess not.”
I only have a few cans of soup in the kitchen. Chicken noodle, broccoli, and tomato. Hmm… Chicken noodle would be lightest on my malnourished friend’s stomach. I warm a bowl quickly. He needs rest so I don’t want to keep him awake much longer.
Setting the tray down carefully on the nightstand, I flick on the lamp. Cade is nestled under the covers but opens his eyes, blinking as he adjusts to the light. I help him prop up on the pillows, settling the tray of soup over his legs.
“Take small bites. Don’t overload your stomach with too much food at one time.” He nods in understanding.
I grab the trash can as Cade takes a hesitant sip.
I know he must be starved and feel fairly certain he’s about to inhale this food and barf.
Trash can in hand, I approach his bedside and confirm he did inhale the soup. I make a face at him. He shrugs his shoulders as if to say, I can’t help it.
I release a sigh. “Let me know if it’s going to come up.”
He nods and almost instantly his face takes on a green hue. His eyes widen and I know from experience he’s about to puke. Shoving the trash can at him, he heaves and all the soup comes up in one disgusting splat.
“I’ll be back.” I move toward the door as the gorgeous man frowns at me, guilt replacing the green. In my office, I rifle through the labeled drawers, grabbing the essentials to start an IV, starting the warmer for the intravenous fluids. Cade is pretty dehydrated, that much is obvious, but warm fluids will help bring up his core temperature. It serves a dual purpose. I grab the fluids from the warmer last, trying to keep them heated as long as possible.
Back in the guest room, Cade is sitting on the side of the bed shivering. You have got to be kidding me. “Get back in the bed,” I order.
Cade raises his head to look at me. “I need to go. I am so sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you. Thank you for everything.” He starts to rise on his unsteady legs and I die a little inside. He pinches his shirt between his fingers. “I’ll get these back to you.”
When I think he is done with his speech, I pick my heart up off the floor. “Are you done, Gorgeous?”
He blinks at me, confused, but I don’t let him speak. “Good. Now that you got that out of your system, get back to bed.” I nod, indicating the bed, rumpled from his ungainly exit.
Being the stubborn-ass that he is, he doesn’t move.
My eyes roll as I set down my supplies. Without looking back, I repeat, “Get. In. The. Fucking. Bed. Cade.” After a beat, I hear the sheets rustle. Finally. Hard ass.
I’ve situated the supplies when I turn back to him. Cade is resting on the pillows, his lower half covered by the blankets. I plop down beside him and focus all my attention on those beautiful mint eyes.
“You really don’t have to do this.”
“Of course, I do. I’m a doctor. It’s a law or something. You’ll cause me to go to jail if you don’t let me help you.” I quirk my lips, daring him to argue. I don’t think that’s exactly how the law goes. I think it’s: do no harm. The rendering aid thing is probably just giving a fuck and being a decent human.
“Thank you.”
I nod, hoping he will just lay off all this. Readying the IV, I hold up the needle for him to see. “Are you scared of needles?”
His face pulls taught for a moment and his lips turn down in a frown. “No, I wouldn’t say I’m scared, but I don’t care for them.”
I wave off his comment. “No one cares for them.” I pull the IV pole closer to the bed. Cade tracks the movement with his eyes. Before he starts to panic, I pat his arm to reassure him. “I’m going to start an IV in your arm. Do you know what that is?”
He nods his head but still looks wary.
“You’re pretty dehydrated from the look of things.” I rake my eyes over his body and he shifts uncomfortably with my assessment. “These are warm fluids,” I explain. “They will help accelerate warming your core body temp.” He swallows, looking nervous, so I rub his arm in a soothing motion. “Will you trust me, Cade? I know you probably don’t trust many people, but I am asking you to trust me. Let me help you.”
He swallows hard but gives me a quiet “okay.”
Before he changes his mind, I stretch his arm out flat and tie off the tourniquet to feel for a vein. It proves difficult since he’s dehydrated, but being the pro that I am, I find a decent one. I work, cleaning the skin thoroughly with an alcohol wipe before I caution him, “You’re going to feel a pinch, okay? Breathe normally and look away.”
He nods and follows my directions.
“Pinch,” I warn before sliding the needle into the vein. He flinches as the needle pierces the skin but doesn’t shout obscenities, as is Theo’s customary response when I have to stick him.
“All done,” I soothe as I tape everything down.
He looks at my handiwork and mumbles a tired thank you, his eyes red and droopy, his face scrunched in fatigue. He’s about to pass out. Setting the drip rate for the fluids, I instruct him to lay all the way down. He does so without arguing this time.
I pull the blankets up to his chin and tuck them under his hip tight. “Get some rest. I’m across the hall if you need anything.”
He clears his throat. “Thank you.”
I nod and stand to leave. I pull the door closed, leaving it cracked so I can hear him.
I get to work cleaning up the mess in the bathroom, trying to be quiet and not disturb Cade. After wiping down the sink and tub, I gather all the towels to take them to the laundry room and set the washer before ambling into the kitchen to scrounge food for myself. I stand at the fridge for a solid five minutes before giving up and grabbing a pack of crackers. I’m actually tired too. Saving a life is exhausting.
My shabby chic, vintage sofa beckons me toward the living room. I grab the remote and a throw blanket before I flop down and make myself comfy. When I finally find a comfortable position, my phone rings out the Sunday Night Football Jingle. Something Theo doesn’t find funny. Fuck! Somebody better be on fire!
I toss the cover off, cursing obscenities to whoever is on the line. A quick glance at the caller ID says it’s none other than Theo.
Swiping right, I answer with a, “What?”
“What? What the fuck crawled up your ass this afternoon?” His tone is a little sour. Okay. So maybe that wasn’t my best greeting.
“Ugh. Nothing.” I try to add a little sweetness to my voice. “I’m tired and just sat down when you called.” I’ve missed him and I do want to talk to him but now isn’t the best time.
“Oh,” he says quietly. “Why are you tired?”
Is that nervousness I detect out of Von Bremen? Surely not. Oh. He thinks I have been up all night. Ha! Joke’s on you, Von Bremen. Theo would shit a brick and be here faster than he could undo a bra clasp if he knew I’d just been nursing my newly acquired bum back to the land of the living.
“Oh, you know, just double shifts at the hospital. Making that money!” I laugh at myself.
Theo’s quiet for so long I start to think he has hung up. A quick glance at the phone tells me he hasn’t. “Theo? Are you still there?”
“What are you up to, Ans?” His voice is accusatory and I don’t know if I appreciate his disbelief of my lie. It’s not even a lie, really. I have been working. Today, I just have been working on Cade.
I scoff at him. “What do you mean? I’ve been working, asshole.”
He “uh huhs” me, which really sets my nerves ablaze. I take a breath, ready to give him an earful when he cuts me off, his voice excited. “Did you see the game last night?”
Of course I saw it. I never miss a game but I like to make him think he’s not that important. It helps with keeping his ego contained in this hemisphere.
“Uh, yeah, I think I did. Why? Did you do something awesome?” He’s silent, obviously pouting. I try to maintain my seriousness but can’t. Theo pouting is really cute. In person, it practically makes my panties sing a little song. I giggle, “Oh! That’s right, you struck out that dicksucker, Maddox!” and squeal, earning a laugh out of him.
“All for you, baby,” he laughs.
I hate Stephan Maddox. He made some sleazy comment to me at one of the league functions last year and I had to restrain Theo from attacking him. To placate Theo, I asked him to strike his ass out next time he came to the plate. And my boy always delivers.
“Damn right. I never doubted you.”
For the next half hour, Theo fills me in on the all the gossip I have been missing in the locker room. He tells me about the rookies who have come on board and all the usual pranks they are receiving. Several of them I know were Theo’s idea. Putting hair remover in the shampoo bottles… That shit was all Theo.
I fill him in on all things hospital and the small town of Madison, which is basically a bunch of nothing. After that, I proceed to drill him on his shoulder. He tore his tendon late last season, and we have been working really hard to get him strong and ready for this new season. He assures me he is behaving and following my strict instructions. He’ll be back next week and I will feel better when I look him over with my own eyes, in more ways than one. We end the call with him promising to call me after the game tonight to talk strategy about the Red Sox.
I must have dozed off at some point because when I wake it’s dark outside. Standing slowly, I stretch the tight muscles in my back and neck. A whimpering noise is coming from somewhere close by. I open the front door and look out but can’t see much. The porch light only illuminates a few feet from the porch. Locking the door behind me, I move deeper into the house, searching for the source.
Cade! I can’t believe I forgot he was here.
I rush to his door and swing it open to find him on the floor, hands pulling at his mocha-colored hair. He’s shaking and covered in sweat.
I ease down to my knees and very softly call his name.
His head snaps up, and he looks as though he is in an extraordinary amount of pain. “Go away!” he shouts. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Hurt me? Well, that’s not what I was expecting. I quickly take in his state and notice his IV has become dislodged, and he’s bleeding from the site. I need to get that stopped before he stains my carpet. I want to reach out to him, but he looks like a cornered animal who might bite me. His jaw is tight, and he’s starting to rock.
Oh shit. He’s a crazy. Damn it, Ans! See, Theo is right, no good deed goes unpunished. You are about to die in your damn guest room.
I’m trying to figure a way out of this when I notice a tattoo on his upper arm. Semper Fi. A military tattoo, I think. Marines maybe? Ah, ha! It all makes sense now. He’s a veteran. No wonder I felt a connection, a driving need to help him. I know firsthand about military men and women coming back home after wars and not knowing how to function in society. Most of them do end up homeless, some of them dead.
I feel that pain resonate deep in my soul again, as I take in this beautiful, broken man who once was probably a heartbreaker. Instead of a welcome wagon and thank you for protecting our country, he was probably kicked to the curb. I bet it’s PTSD. Thinking about it brings back memories. Memories that are too hard to deal with right now. This whole situation is pissing me off. I need to get my head together and help this man who fought for my freedom.
Inhaling a deep, ragged breath, I crawl toward Cade. He notices and immediately scoots away from me. Well, this may be harder than I thought.
“Cade,” I soothe. “You are not going to hurt me and I am not going to hurt you.” I move another inch closer.
“You’re bleeding. Will you let me look at it? I want to be sure you’re okay.” Another inch.
Cade still looks feral, but he doesn’t move away from me. “Do you know where you are?”
He looks around the room and nods.
“Can you tell me?” I want him to talk. I need to know where his head is.
His hands release his hair and he clears his throat. “Your house.”
“That’s right,” I praise, moving the last foot toward him. I take his face in my hands and caress his cheeks, allowing my thumbs to rub comforting circles over his stubbled face. I can’t be sure how much time passes but eventually I feel his body relax beneath my hands.
I give him a sad smile and release my hands from his face. “Can I take a look at your arm?”
He looks weak but a little saner. His shaking has lessened and he has regained some color. Frost-green eyes take in the blood pooling through the hair on his arm. I place my hand over it, hoping blood isn’t a trigger for him.
Grimacing, he nods at me, indicating that I can examine his arm. I grab some gauze and alcohol wipes that I left on the bedside table earlier, wipe his arm and apply pressure. He managed to pull out the whole damn thing. I probably could let it go, but it will do his body some good to get one more bag of fluids in, especially since he isn’t drinking.
I instruct Cade to hold the pressure while I go grab more supplies. When I return, he’s doing as he was told, but his gaze tells me he’s far away from here. “Cade?” I ask cautiously. “You still with me, Gorgeous?”
He inhales deeply and looks at me with a small smile. “Yeah, I’m with you.”
For some reason, him saying those words makes my stomach feel like tiny ants are throwing a party, dancing and tickling deep within me. I shrug off the feeling and drop back down to his side. The wound has stopped bleeding, but I place a bandage over it in case it decides to start back up and open another needle.
Cade immediately notices and groans. “I really think I’m okay, Anniston.” Well, I’ll be damned, he used my name.
I don’t acknowledge this and continue until the tourniquet is tied off. He groans and runs a hand through his hair but doesn’t pull back or try to deter me. See, he has learned it’s pointless to argue with me. He ought to give Theo some pointers—that ass will argue with a mailbox.
Palpating a new vein, I warn him before I slide the needle in, which is much easier this time. The fluids are helping. I reconnect the lines, tape down the site, and help him up onto the bed.
He mutters, “Thanks,” before clearing his throat. “I need to use the bathroom.”
I laugh at the way he says it—like he’s scared to ask. “You’re not a prisoner. You can go if you need to. Do you need any help?”
He shakes his head quickly. “I can manage.” I nod and pull the IV pole closer to him. “Hang on to this. It rolls, so don’t lean on it.” He nods and stands, slowly getting his footing. I watch carefully as he maneuvers out the door.
Exhaling a ragged breath, I roll the unmistakable tension out of my shoulders. Damn, that was intense. Thinking ahead, I draw up a sedative in case he has another episode. You can never be too careful with PTSD. I’m no psychiatrist, but I know when someone needs to be sedated. Cade was able to come back this time. He may not the next.
After he returns, looking pale and a bit shaky again, I take his arm and help him into the bed. He mumbles a reluctant sound in appreciation. I know from that small gesture that he isn’t keen on appearing weak in front of me. Like I could ever think such a thing.
When he’s settled under the blankets, I tell him to open up and the thermometer reveals that his temp is steadily climbing. But it’s still not where I would like it to be. “Do you need anything?” I ask him while I clean up the trash.
“No, thank you. You’ve done enough.”
Here we go again. As if I didn’t hear him, I ask, “How about something to eat? You hungry?”
He just stares at me for a long moment, then ever so slightly bobs his head up and down.
“You think you can pace yourself this time?”
He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.”
In the kitchen, I pace circles like fucking Theo. The little shit has worn off on me. What am I doing? I give my ponytail a few tugs, annoyed and confused about what the right answer is. It’s times like this that I wish I had someone to talk to so I could run this past them and ask for advice. But I have no one. Only Theo. And I don’t have to call him for advice. I know what his answer would be. It makes me cringe just thinking about it.
Fuck it. I’m a grown-ass woman. I can do whatever I feel like. And I feel like helping this man. If I die, I die. I’ve lived a good life.
Feeling satisfied in my decision, I load my shirt with a shit-ton of junk food and throw it down on the man’s bed. Cade looks at me like a deer in the headlights.
I shrug. “What? I’m hungry too. Thought we could pig out and watch the game. Well, I’m going to pig out. You are going to eat slowly.”
He smiles and lifts up to rest against the headboard.
“Stay under the blankets,” I scold.
“I am.”
He really isn’t. All his organs that need to be warmed are above the blankets. But I’ll let him stay like that for a little while. He’s over the critical stage.
I cut on the TV and turn it to the channel that is broadcasting Theo’s game. He isn’t pitching tonight, but he’s there somewhere watching the opposing team like a hawk. I open a bag of chips and pass it over to Cade. “Here you go. Nice and slow, remember?”
He nods but sticks a handful in his mouth anyway. Fucking men and their food. I roll my eyes at his behavior and with a mouthful of food, he tries to apologize. I cut him off. “Don’t worry about it. I know it’s good. If you weren’t here, I probably would just tilt the bag in my mouth. Just chew and swallow. Wouldn’t even have to worry about my hands getting dirty.”
He laughs and starts to choke.
“Careful, Gorgeous,” I warn, grabbing him a bottled water.
He swallows hard as I pass him the water, which he chugs.
We sit in silence, enjoying the monotone of the announcers. Between the two of us, we (mainly me) massacre several bags of chips and two Lunchables. Not the best dinner, but hey, it’s my day off. The game ends, declaring the Red Sox the victor. Prayers out to Theo’s team. He will be one grumpy boy tonight.
With a big yawn, I stand and start to gather the remains of our feeding frenzy. “You need anything else before I head to bed?”
“Can I keep watching TV?” he asks hesitantly.
“Sure, but I want you to get some rest, too. Your body needs to recover from you almost freezing to death.” I tsk him a little, remembering his terrible decision to sleep in a ditch.
He nods, looking a little frightened. Ah. Night terrors. Been there done that. Dr. McCallister can fix that. I finish cleaning up and hand him the remote. Reaching for the sedative I stashed away earlier, I sit beside him.
“I’m going to give you something to help you sleep tonight.”
His eyes go wide. “I’ll be okay,” he blurts.
Rubbing his arm, I explain, “I know. But I have this crazy suspicion that you probably haven’t slept more than a couple hours at a time for years now. That’s not good for your body or for healing.” He’s shaking his head vehemently, but I don’t allow him to interrupt. “And I bet you suffer from nightmares.” Going still, his eyes widen in disbelief. Yeah, mama knows.
Possessiveness tingles up my spine. Internally, I tell myself to maintain a professional distance from this train wreck of a man because he honestly makes me want to pack him in the car and drive him away from every bad thing that has ever happened to him here. Why hasn’t anyone helped him? Is his family looking for him?
Stroking his arm, as soothingly as possible I say, “Trust me, Cade. You need sleep. This will help you sleep a dreamless night. Will you trust me?”
Without looking at me, he nods his head in acceptance.
“I’ll stay until you fall asleep, okay?”
“Okay.”
Cleaning the now empty IV port, I push the needle in and slowly feed the medicine. It takes about ten seconds before his arm relaxes and ten more seconds before his head falls back. Scooting him over, I lie down beside him, turn on HGTV and wait for his body to completely go lax.
Half an hour later, Cade is snoring softly in my ear. I turn off the TV, pull the blankets taut over his chest, and exit the room quietly.
What the fuck did I get myself into?