Lacy
The cab drops me off at my apartment, and I pull my sister into a hug. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Her response comes at the end of a dramatic yawn. “Okay. Make sure you call that mystery man. I will expect details tomorrow.”
A grin curves the corners of my mouth as I exit the cab, wave goodbye and head to my apartment.
After changing, I make a cup of decaf coffee and plop down on the couch. My mind drifts to Clayton and what he’s doing in Savannah—better yet, what he was doing at Magnolia Woods.
The last time I saw him was during the interview, and at the time, he was a detective. I can’t imagine it would be work-related since they have jurisdictions and such. Maybe it’s as simple as him knowing a patient there, but if that were the case, why would he hide? As I wrap my hands around my cup, the intense heat stings my skin and I concentrate on the sensation. I’m hopeful my thoughts stay on Clayton and don’t drift to where I know they are headed—my mother. But it’s no use. I can’t stop it and the memories come flooding back.
The mere mention of the facility is bittersweet. Not only is it a reminder of the direction my life has taken. and the satisfaction I get from caring for others, but it also tugs on the memories of my mother and her last days.
Her obsession with alcohol didn’t really take hold until after my father passed. There was the frequent social drinking, dinner with friends, a party here or there, but it wasn’t really until after that her drinking became severe. After several stents in the hospital, we knew she needed help. The day she was admitted to Magnolia Woods was the hardest day of my life. I knew it was the last straw—either she would get through or she wouldn’t.
Tears well in my eyes at the images of her on the last day.
Her skin, pale with dark circles under her striking blue eyes, is sunken in, emphasizing the bones of her cheeks. Her thin, skeletal body is barely able to manage the slightest intake of air. The beeps from the machines…
When Adele’s “Hello” fills the room, I shake my head and laugh yet the tears still fall. “I need to change that damn ringtone.” I wipe my cheeks with the sleeve of my shirt and sniffle as I answer. “Hey, Tracy.”
“Are you okay? Did something happen?” The familiarity and concern in her tone almost brings me to tears again.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I was just thinking about Mom. It’s been a really long day and a lot of things have happened. I think my emotions, and possibly exhaustion, are starting to catch up with me.”
“I know it all happened so fast that we really didn’t get a chance to talk about any of it. You and Mom were a lot closer than she and I were, but I feel like I’m just realizing that now. Working as a nurse for fifteen years, I’ve been around death and families that have lost loved ones, and I guess I didn’t really think of how much more you were impacted.” The line goes quiet, but sniffles filter through the phone before she continues. “Lacy, I’m sorry I didn’t take more time to talk with you and make sure you were dealing with things okay.”
“Well, I won’t lie, it’s been hard. I think about her all the time, and sometimes it hurts so bad; I feel ill, but I never wanted to bother you with any of it. I mean, hell, she was your mother too. I know you were going through stuff.” I head to the kitchen and pour more coffee. “I’m really not sure how to handle these feelings.”
“Please don’t ever feel like you can’t talk to me. No matter what I’m going through. We’re the only family we’ve got, and we need to stick together.” Her tone is firm yet motherly. “There is something else I would like to suggest. It’s probably not something you’ll want to do, but please hear me out before you say no.”
“Okay…”
“Have you ever thought about setting up an appointment with Dr. Ackerman? I had a couple thirty-minute sessions with him and it seemed to really help.”
“Are you talking about the psychiatrist at work? Isn’t that weird airing your dirty laundry to someone you work with and see every day?” My voice raises an octave at her suggestion.
“No, it’s not really that weird. He knows the story because he treated Mom, so it’s not airing anything. Besides, since he has his own practice now, he’s only at the Woods a couple days a week. You won’t see him every day.”
Scrunching my nose, I consider what she’s saying. “I’ll think about it. If anything, maybe he can help me move past the vivid images of her last day. I want to remember the fun, happy times we had, not the skeleton of a person I remember now.”
“Great. Let me know once you decide to set it up. Maybe we can do a couple’s session once you feel comfortable.” The laugh at her own joke is infectious, and the corners of my lips raise. “Enough of this somber shit. I actually called to see if you had talked to the mystery man yet. I want the gossip, girl!”
“No, I haven’t called him yet. I wanted to relax before I got up the nerve to call, then the whole crying thing started.”
“Girl, you get off this phone right now, get cleaned up, and you call that massive hunk of a man I haven’t seen or met yet.”
My small laugh sounds more like clearing my throat. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’ll let you know what happened tomorrow. Thanks for cheering me up, sis.”
Once I disconnect the call, I jump up and head to the bedroom, both eager and nervous to call him. Stripping down to only a tank top and panties, I climb on my bed and dial Clayton’s number. But I don’t hit send. Setting the phone down and dropping my head back against the headboard, I think of the many days that followed the first time we met. He was the object of my fantasies.
There were nights when I would lay in bed and allow the memories from the interview to flood my mind.
When he extends his hand in greeting, I take it, place it on my cheek, then slowly guide our hands down my neck, stopping over my racing heartbeat.
The gold flecks of his intense hazel eyes become a single shade and his masculine scent wafts from him as he moves his hand over my breast. Then drops it to grab the hem of my shirt, pull it over my head and toss it to the floor.
My nipples harden instantly when the cool air breezes over my thin lace bra.
He pulls me to his chest and lowers his mouth to mine, but his soft lips give no indication of the bruising intensity I experience. When his tongue slides across the seam of my lips, I open, willingly allowing him to explore.
Lost in his kiss, I don’t notice that he unhooks my bra until it’s sliding down my arms and drops to the floor. Before I have a chance to cover myself, his mouth is on a nipple, and I’m arching my back, pulling his head closer. When he moves his hands to the button of my jeans…
A loud thud on the wall pulls me from my daydream, but doesn’t lessen the heat building between my legs. When I lower my gaze, I find my hand restrained by the elastic of my panties. The thought of speaking to Clayton post orgasm sends a flush of heat to my cheeks. I pull my hand from my underwear and scoot up until my back is against the headboard. I tug on my hair and let out a heavy sigh. “Just call him already!”
When I yank my phone from the bed, I hear the distinctive ring through the speaker and panic. “Shit… shit…shit!” As I place it against my ear, the ringing stops, and his deep, gravelly voice bounces off my eardrum while a multitude of chills spread across my body.