“We should get up,” Carter murmured, still half asleep. The nurse woke us a moment earlier when she came to record his temperature and fluids. She slipped out as quickly as she slipped in, but the damage was done. Nonetheless, I really did need to get out of bed. The baby was probably ready for another feeding. I just couldn’t bring myself to move.
“F-F-Five more minutes,” I reasoned, snuggling farther into his side and under the blankets.
“Angel.”
“F-Five minutes. I swear.”
“My dick is rock hard right now.”
My lips pulled into a smile as my chest shook with silent laughter. “Nice.”
“Just saying—I’m feeling emotionally vulnerable. If you want to take advantage of me again, this’s an opportune moment.”
“T-T-Tempting.” Not. I hadn’t showered in two days, or brushed my teeth in twenty-four hours. The last time I shaved my legs? I couldn’t begin to guess.
“Had to try. It’s been a while.”
“You’re not going t-to give me a by-the-hour accounting of t-time? It’s been eight months—”
“Eight months. It’s been almost eight—long—months.”
“You set a new record.”
“You sure I can’t talk you into it? It won’t last long. We’re talking single digits here.”
“Minutes?”
“Seconds, Angel, seconds.”
“Well…” Reaching down, I wrapped my fingers around his cock. It wasn’t a difficult trek, seeing as he was wearing a hospital gown. To my surprise, he quailed and knocked my hand away, clearly not expecting me to call his bluff.
Frustration flashed through me, quick and brutal. He wasn’t serious. I mean, I knew he wasn’t serious. He never was. But I realized he was toying with me. He’d always been a flirt, and even now was only teasing me. He hadn’t expected me to act on it. Idiot.
“Don’t go getting all pissy on me, Angel. You can’t erase twelve years of habit and denial in a day. It’s ingrained. But I’m getting around it.” Threading his hand in my hair, he tugged my head back, and then dropped his head, brushing his lips against mine. We kept our eyes open, both watching one another’s reactions. “Oh yeah, definitely getting around it.”
His hand slipped across my waist and around my back, pulling me against him. My breath left in a whoosh, a throaty moan escaping me. My knee rose, hitching over his hip, as he took my mouth, fervent and greedy. I angled my head, taking him deeper.
Somewhere beneath the covers, Carter’s phone rang, vibrating against the mattress while spouting off some polyphonic ringtone. Carter froze. The moment was broken.
“Ignore it,” I pleaded. “They’ll call back.”
“I can’t.” As we released one another, he began rooting blindly for the thing. “It’s Jake. Considering we haven’t spoken since…it might be important.” A second later, the ringing stopped. Carter’s hand resurfaced. He raised the phone to his ear. “Yeah?” His eyes dropped to my face. “She’s here with me… in the hospital… room one thirty-six… no, it’s my room… She’s fine, why?” A long pause ensued. I could hear Jake’s voice, tinny and nearly inaudible. Carter looked deeper into my eyes, a crease appearing between his brows. “All right.” Lowering the phone, he ended the call.
“What was that about?”
“Apparently you’re missing. They have an APB out on you.”
“You’re k-k-kidding.”
“No.”
“Monica knows I’m here. She brought me.”
“Apparently there was a miscommunication.”
“I guess they c-c-called Jake.”
“He’s on his way down now.”
Taking my cue, I tossed back the covers and slid from the bed. It was the last place I wanted Jake to find me. “I’m going t-to use the bathroom.”
“They told him you might be disoriented,” Carter said, grasping my wrist before I could walk away. “What happened this morning before you came here?”
“It was nothing. I f-fell asleep and lost track of t-time. Like when you t-take a nap, but wake up, and you’re not sure if it’s seven at night or seven in the morning. I got t-turned around.”
“That’s all?” Concern laced his features.
“Why? What did they t-tell you?”
“You were insisting that your gram came to see you.”
I made a noise of annoyance in the back of my throat. “Em passed her on the way out. I’m not delusional.” Pulling my arm from his grip, I padded into the bathroom.
Leave it to the doctors to find an excuse to milk my insurance by extending my stay and running more tests. They were all bloodsuckers, the doctors and the insurance companies.
Stepping into the bathroom, I closed the door behind me. Therapy had worked out most of the kinks from the accident. The only remaining impediment was my speech, and that wasn’t a cause for hospitalization. I could easily do outpatient therapy.
Until now, I hadn’t argued, because it kept me close to Iain. But I was dying to go home. I wanted a place where I could sleep a solid eight without interruption. I wanted to relax in my own house, away from prying eyes and ears. I wanted normality.
Turning the spigot, I let the water run hot, and splashed my face. The small ivory bar of soap was going to sap every bit of moisture from my skin, but I’d feel all the better for it. I lathered briefly and rinsed, then swished my mouth with the travel size mouthwash before trying futilely to make my hair presentable. It had grown into a thin layer of stubble where the doctors had shaved it, looking like I’d had a war with a wad of gum and the gum had won. Sighing, I tugged Carter’s knit cap back over my head, hiding my source of shame.
Supposing that was the best I was going to get, I tugged open the door. To my surprise, Jake was standing beside Carter’s bedside, having a civil conversation. I say conversation, but their hushed whispers ceased as I came through the door. They both stared at me with concern.
About thirty seconds in, I decided the silence was discomfiting. Still, no one motioned to speak. “You’re both making me really nervous.” I voiced. They were unusually chummy when they should’ve been at each other’s throats. Jake wasn’t one to let things go that easily.
“Sit down, Mattie,” Jake ordered, gesturing to the bed.
“I’m f-fine,” I insisted. Though, I padded to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress beside Carter. His hand slid beneath the seam of my gown and rested at the center of my back, the rough pad of his thumb sweeping up and down my spine. “I’m sorry the hospital called you. It was all a misunderstanding. Monica didn’t let Jacqueline know where I was.”
“Matilda.” Dropping his head, Jake pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Please don’t yell at me. I’m t-tired. I really don’t want t-to do this right now.” I couldn’t take another argument. Not today. Despite the ten-hour stretch of sleep, I felt far from rested. My head throbbed lightly, the threat of a headache taunting me.
Stepping closer, Jake crouched down, grasping my hands in his. When he looked up, his eyes were red and rimmed with tears.
“Oh, Jesus, you were really worried.” I’d seen him shout and yell until blue in the face, but I’d never seen him this far gone. I actually felt guilty. “I’m f-fine, Jake. Swear.”
Slowly, Jake shook his head. “It’s Gram, Matt.”
Trepidation clenched my gut in a tight fist. My eyes instantly sprang with tears. I shook my head, refusing to believe what he had yet to speak. “No!”
“I’m sorry.”
“No!” I repeated, my head whipping side to side. “I saw her last night! She was perfectly f-fine!”
“You couldn’t have seen her last night,” Jake insisted, his voice wavering. The sound cut me like a knife, searing pain straight to my heart. My big brother, always so strong. But his next words hurt even worse, a different brand of pain. “She died just after the accident. You were still unconscious. It was a heart attack.”
Before I knew what I was doing, I slapped him across the face. It had been weeks… weeks… and he was just telling me now? For the second time in my life, I was robbed of closure. Gram was already gone. He’d buried her without letting me say goodbye.
I had a chasm where my heart belonged. A vast emptiness that gaped like an open wound. I’d lost my parents. Now, I’d lost Gram. No one should have to suffer that loss twice. It just wasn’t fair. I felt cheated. Abandoned. Orphaned. I had no one.
Lifting my hand to my mouth, I wailed. A pitiful sound, even to my own ears. Carter looped his arm around my waist and guided me toward him. “Shh, I’m here. I’ve got you.”
I was glad he didn’t say it was ok, because it wasn’t. My gram was gone. I’d never see her again. I’d never smell her perfume. I’d never hear her saucy laugh, or tell me I was being pigheaded. I’d never feel that pop of surprise when she said something off the wall, which she was prone to do. Gram was half her age. She was supposed to live forever. She was my guardian, my mentor, my confidante. How was I supposed to get on without her? Who would set me straight when I was drifting off course? No one could lay it out flat like she could.
Well…maybe one person.
Gram was right about one thing. I needed him more than I realized.
Cupping my head in his palm, he pressed my face to the warmth of his chest, his own breaths laden with emotion. I clutched onto his arm as pain poured out of me, raw and unstifled. In response, he hugged me tighter, pressing his cheek to the top of my head.
I was only six when I lost my parents. I remember missing them. So greatly at times, I would cry myself to sleep. But in time, the pain lessened. Gram had slowly filled the void of loss. She hadn’t just bandaged my scraped knee. She crooned a song and kissed it better. When I’d hit puberty, she hadn’t just picked me up a simple bottle of astringent; she marched me into the area cosmetic store and bought me a complete regimen, including the right products to conceal its effects on my complexion. When I realized the boys I dated only wanted to get in my pants, or use me to meet the band, she taught me to hold my head up high, and set my sights a little higher. When I confessed I already had, she never discouraged or dismissed my crush. She kept my secret locked tightly away, speaking about it only between us.
My world fell out from under me. I thought I’d already hit rock bottom. Anything that could go wrong, had. But I’d been wrong. Profoundly wrong. Losing Gram was much worse.
♪♫♪♫
When I finally calmed, the worst of my tears having fallen, only then did Carter speak. His tone was soft, hesitant. “He waited, Angel. He waited a week, but you didn’t wake up.”
“He should’ve t-told me sooner.”
“He wanted to, but he thought… Jake and I were arguing, and he threw Haris’s death at me. He thought you heard us. You went into arrest. After that, he thought it would be better to wait until after you stabilized.”
I did hear them, but that was beside the point. “I’ve been stable a f-few weeks.”
“Two weeks, and stable is questionable.”
“I’m f-fine.”
“You think you saw your gram this morning.”
“It was a dream, obviously.”
“You didn’t believe that twenty minutes ago, even after the nurse told you nobody had visited in hours. You keep changing your story.”
“Are we t-talking about Jake or my brain injury?”
“Both. I’m just trying to help you understand why he didn’t tell you.”
Deep down, I didn’t blame Jake. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Processing everything, I felt horrible. He had to bury Gram alone while I was lying comatose in the hospital. It didn’t get that much rougher than that.
Rolling to face Carter, my chin quivered. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
“I’ll take you to see her on the way home.” Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulled me toward him until we were touching from head to toe.
“Can we go right now?”
“After today…” He left the statement hanging. The doctors were going to want to run a few more tests and keep me under observation.
“I’m not crazy.”
“I never said you were.”
“I’m not sick, either.”
“A few days,” Carter reasoned. “Then we can take the kid home with us.”
Home. Laying my head against his chest, I sighed. Maybe I was better off. The house would only remind me of her. I wasn’t sure I was ready to face that yet. While she hadn’t lived there since I’d moved out, the rooms still smelled of her, of pine and citrus. Of home.
“Speaking of which, we should go to the nursery,” he prompted, using Iain as a distraction. “Iain’s way past due for a feeding.”
“What about your IV?”
Reaching up, he pressed the nurses button. “Wait until you meet Methuselah. She’s a real peach.”
“Methuselah?”
“She loves me.”
“About as much as I like an enema,” said a tall, padded, black woman, entering the room. “Come to think of it, you up my ass more than an enema. For a boy with one leg, you sure never sit still.”
“I’ve got two legs,” Carter advised with a wink. “Right now, they’re almost the same height.”
“Don’t you go getting perverted on me. I might be old in your book, but I can still whoop your ass.” Retrieving a set of blue gloves from a medicine cabinet on the wall across from the bed, she snapped them over her hands.
“Guess how old she is, Angel.”
Her jaw slightly askew, she leaned against the table tray, clearly indulging his cocky sense of humor. Glancing between the two, I shrugged. I wasn’t touching that question by a mile.
“Ninety-six,” Carter announced, a smile spreading across his face.
Methuselah glared and shook her head. “I’m barely a day past sixty-nine.”
“I should’ve remembered that. It’s my favorite number.”
“Boy, what did I just tell you?” Her hand moved to her hip, her elbow popping in the air. “I have children older than you. I don’t need to know about your sexual perversions.”
“I don’t get it.” Carter’s smile dropped, feigning innocence. “What’s so bad about sixty-nine? Is that some kind of paraphernalia?”
“Don’t play coy with me.”
“Sixty-nine was a good year in music. The end of a generation. I don’t know where your mind’s at.”
“You think I was born yesterday, don’t you?”
“Sixty-nine years ago yesterday.” To me, he added, “Yesterday was her birthday. You should’ve seen the cake. She almost set off smoke alarms from all the candles.”
Methuselah stared, denoting the end of her part in the conversation. “This here the reason you been sneaking out every night?” She lifted her chin in my direction, a wry smile teasing her lips.
“That was supposed to be between us.”
“So was my age.”
“See if anyone else writes you a song.” From his bed table, he retrieved a crumpled sheet of paper. Haphazardly, he smoothed it out before handing it to me. “Tell me what you think. It can’t be that bad.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s an ode to the tribulations of old age.”
Hesitantly, I lifted the paper, aware that he was trying to distract me. Carter couldn’t write worth a damn.
“Eating my Mirabelle prunes
“Bloating within, shudder, sigh
“Grunting, bear, relieve oneself
“Say a prayer, a plea for help
“Bottoms up, detoxify
“Flushing it, I’m horrified
“As sixty-nine spreadable prunes go by…”
Raising my brows, I handed it back to Carter. “That’s horrible.”
“It’s Ninety-nine Red Balloons, rechorused.”
“She’s right,” Methuselah commented. “It’s horrible.”
“Tough critics.” Offering it to Methuselah, he held it out. “Keep it. Put it in a frame. You’ll see. It’ll be worth something when I hit it big as a soloist.”
“I don’t know about soloist. Maybe one of those fellas that write jingles or whatever they called. Mylanta might be the only one willing to pay money for that.”
Offended—but not really—Carter retracted his offer. “There’s no need to go that far. I got the point when you said it was horrible.”
Methuselah burst out laughing, shaking amusedly. “That’s for calling me Methuselah. You think I don’t know you’re calling me that when I’m not around? I’m old, but I ain’t no nine hundred and sixty-nine. I ain’t no white Hebrew boy either. I’m a God-fearing Baptist.”
“It’s just a nickname.”
“My name is Magdalena.”
“Cause that’s so much better.”
“It’s the name my mama gave me. You don’t cut it up, and I won’t cut your horrible music up.”
“I take back every nice thing I said about you.”
“Boy, I’ll remember that the next time I change your bandages or undo your IV so you can go wheeling around to gawk at your girlfriend at night.”
“Why do you have to keep bringing that up?”
“Cause if she quits giving you the cold shoulder, then you quit sneaking out at night, and I'll get five minutes of peace and quiet between sponge bathing Mr. Stanley and Mr. Carson. I earned that break,” she dead-panned. “I deserve that damn break.”
“Mr. Carson? That old geezer next door?” Carter asked. “The one with the hairy ears and flabby ass? You have to wash that?”
“His penis looks like a naked mole rat.”
“Gah.”
“Senile shit took Viagra the other day. Kept calling me his Martha.”
“Enough.”
“I need that break, man.”
“You know what? You’ve got it!”
“You sure? I could keep going…?”
“Completely unnecessary, I assure you.”
“Good. You want me to unhook that IV now?”
“Nope. I’m good. I’ll just take it with me.”
“Don’t be a fool. You called me in here to unhook you. I’ll unhook you.”
“Can you put on a second pair of gloves first?”
“But these clean.”
“I’ll pay the five hundred dollars you’re going to charge the insurance for the second pair. You can never be too safe.”
“Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna get Mr. Carson’s smegma on you.”
“Oh, come on!”
“I eat with these hands. You don’t think I clean them first?”
“Of course I don’t—I mean I do—I’m sure you wash them…!” Holding out his arm, he surrendered. “Go ahead. Do it. Get it over with. I’m already missing a leg. What’s an arm going to hurt?”
Shaking her head, Magdalena took his hand and began disengaging the tubing. “Back in the day, my mama woulda told you to rub some dirt on it.”
“Thank you, Oh Wise One.”
“Remember not to bend your wrist too much or you could blow your vein,” Magdalena cautioned. Removing the IV, she ran her thumbs over the tape, pressing it to his hand. “I’ll see about having your antibiotics switched to oral. Save us both some trouble.”
“There are so many quips I could make right now, but I won’t, since I know you don’t appreciate my perverted sense of humor.”
“Is there anything else I can get you before you run off?” Magdalena asked, trying her best to refrain from fueling his antics. “A robe or something?”
“Got one, thanks.”
“Wear it this time. Can’t have you walking the halls in your hospital gown again. Folks might think you belong in the looney bin.”
“They think that anyway.”
“I’m sure you do your best to disprove their opinions.”
“What fun would that be?”
“Do you need help getting into your chair?”
“Does a baboon have two dicks?”
Magdalena rolled her eyes. As she walked away, she muttered ‘crazy white boy.’ Though, her tone was one of affection.
“Angel?” Brushing his fingers across my cheek, he gathered my attention.
Glancing up, I managed a semblance of a smile. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“The distractions.”
“You have no idea the distractions I’m capable of.”
“I have some idea.” I was seriously going to need those distractions. I was beginning to doubt that my hormones had anything to do with my rampant emotions, and was leaning toward brain damage. How else can I explain being visited by my dead grandmother? I was crazy.
“Let’s go.” Pressing a quick kiss to my jaw, Carter nudged my back. I swung my legs down and stood from the bed. My entire body felt heavy, weighted with grief. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take before I collapsed completely. I was tired, so freaking tired.
Inching toward the foot of the bed, he grabbed his wheelchair and tugged it closer. I didn’t offer my help. He wouldn’t accept. He was too independent for that. Nimbly, he stood from the bed, turned on his heel, and dropped into the vinyl seat of his wheelchair. Situated, he looked up at me. “Come here.”
Stepping toward him, I stopped between his legs. He had a different mind, and pulled me onto his lap. “Your leg,” I objected. It was still wrapped in gauze and an ace bandage.
“My leg is fine. You aren’t.” I lifted my weight for him as he adjusted me over his lap, taking most of my weight on his healthier limb.
“I’m ok,” I lied. It was poorly feigned.
“Don’t regress on me, Angel. If you need a distraction, focus on me. I’m your personal wonderland. You can like…run your fingers through my hair. After waiting so long to touch it, once couldn’t have been enough.”
“I think I’m sorry I ever told you that.” Among other things.
“Why?”
A flush crept across my face. “Because you’re f-f-flaunting it at me and it wasn’t meant as a joke.”
“It’s not flaunting; it’s exulting. Now hold on tight.” Gripping the wheels to his chair, his muscles flexed, and we whirled. The wheels squealed against the floor. Another few pumps of his arms and we were out of the room.
Faces looked up as we glided down the hall. I smoothed my hand over my gown to make sure I wasn’t flashing anyone as we blew past, but the sweep of air across my face brought a hard-earned smile. Carter’s arms pumped harder until a small yelp of excitement escaped me.
The lighting overhead strobed faintly, akin to our speed. Carter’s breaths picked up. His chest rose and fell in rhythm. Someone stepped around a corner. As we passed, they stepped back. Behind us, came a scoff to slow down. “Flip him the bird, Angel. I’m busy.”
“Why the hurry?” I asked, one arm gripping his knee, the other locked around the back of his neck. As we turned a corner, I locked him a choke hold. “Oh my God! Carter!”
“Going fast is funner.”
“That’s not really a word.”
“Saying funner is funner too.”
“You really should slow down.”
“Too fast?”
“A little,” I admitted. “My brain is already damaged enough. I don’t need another collision t-to f-finish the job.”
Abruptly, we came to a halt. Carter reached up and turned my chin to face him. His hands were warm with exertion. “Your brain is perfect.”
“You said it yourself. I saw Gram. She was as real as day.” I mused over the change of sides, and realized he was distracting me again.
“You were dreaming. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” His hand cupped the back of my neck, tugged me toward him. Now, I thought as his lips met mine, I’m dreaming.
“You’re distracting me again.”
“Maybe.”
“I like this distraction the best.”
“Me too.” His tongue swept into my mouth, sending a lightning strike straight to my groin. My insides warred, a dizzying bundle of nerves, juxtaposed to the smooth strokes of his tongue. I wondered if I was the only one affected by the kiss. Likely, I decided.
Call me a fool. I didn’t care. Carter Strickland was kissing me.
Threading my fingers into his hair, I broke the kiss long enough to smile. “Once is definitely not enough.”
“You say these things that make me feel all soft inside. It’s no wonder I never stood a chance resisting you.”
From over my shoulder, someone cleared their throat. Loudly. Carter peered up, frowned. “Jake.”
“She just had a craniotomy a few weeks ago. Do you really think whizzing her around on that thing is the smartest move?”
“Jake,” Paisley warned. Grasping his arm, she tried to garner his attention.
Here we go. Seemed my misery had no limits.
“I’m fine,” Jake replied, shaking her off. “I told you I’m not going to do anything stupid. I just wanted to make sure she was ok.”
“I’m ok,” I assured. “I’m sorry f-for earlier, Jake. I don’t know what came over me. Well, I do, but that doesn’t make it ok. You didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”
“It’s fine.” His shoulder went up in the air like a child. When I realized he wasn’t going to come any closer, I climbed off Carter’s lap and went to him instead. He met me in an embrace. It reeked with worry. He wasn’t a complete ass. “You sure you’re ok?”
“I’m f-fine. Swear.”
“The doctors want to run a few tests. Just follow up.”
“I f-figured they would. Are you going t-to stay?”
There was a slight hesitation and then, “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. I’ll stop by later. Give me a call when you’re back in your room.” When I was alone, in other words.
“Sure.”
Another brief squeeze and he relinquished his embrace. “Behave. No disappearing acts or speeding in the halls. Please. My nerves can’t take much more.”
“Promise.”
“I’ll see you later then.” A quick ruffle of my hair, and he was retreating down the hall. His nerves. No. I shook my head, dispelling the thought. I’d been through a lot, but so had he.
“You didn’t have to do that—deflect his attention for me.” Glancing at Carter, I found his arms folded across his chest. A pout smeared across his face.
“Maybe I was doing it f-for him. He might f-feel bad later that he punched you while you’re in a wheelchair. Not that you can’t defend yourself,” I said quickly when his back went straight as a rod. “I was speaking more about his conscience and how he might f-feel afterward.”
“I can defend myself just fine. And I don’t need a damn wheelchair.” My eyes popped wide, and I gasped as he rose from his chair, his gown tenting in the front, waist level. Looking down at himself, he smirked. “Yeah, that might’ve been a problem.”
“Oh. My. God.” I gathered I wasn’t the only one affected by the kiss. Not by a long shot. An impressively long shot. But, Jesus, as if seeing Jake wasn’t a splash of cold water.
“I think we might need to take care of this, Angel. It’s obviously not going away on its own.”
Words failed me. My eyes, however…
“Come on,” Carter pressed, a smirk inching its way across his face. “Are you really gonna make me come after you?” He lifted his brow, waited, and began hopping his way toward me. His cock… I think I just about died. It was the first time I laughed, truly laughed in days.