I am one giant, hot mess. I mean, I usually am, but in this case, I’m blaming the sun. I’m sweating from head to toe, and my clothes are sticking to me in the most unflattering and uncomfortable way known to man. Even my hair is sweating. My makeup? It’s pretty much gone, smeared from my face. That part I’ll half-blame on the sink, though, because I had to wash my face off to cool down from the damn sun, so of course, my makeup went down the drain with the water. Whatever, it’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone.

I’ve been done with my work for the last hour. Thank goodness it was a light day, and we didn’t have too many drop-ins because I don’t know how much longer I could subject myself to the heat. Any longer and I might have burst into flames.

Bang! I jump from the sound, causing water to splash on the front of my shorts. “Get out here,” Harry bellows.

I grunt in frustration when I look down at my shorts. Great, now I look like I peed on myself as if I’m not enough of a disaster already. Freaking wonderful.

Throwing open the door, I bark, “What?”

“What the hell happened to you?” he grimaces.

Has he seen himself lately? “Nothing.”

“Your customer’s back. Go take his money and tell him to scram.”

“Nice customer service,” I mumble.

“You’re the one who has deal with them not me. You look like a wet dog,” he snarls. “Try not to scare him off.”

Breathing harder, my nostrils flare, heat rising to my face. Instead of giving him a verbal beating, I push past him, storming outside away from him.

I wipe at my shorts as I walk, willing the water to dry. When that doesn’t work, I gather as much of the denim material in my hands and wring the water out. A couple of drops seep out of the fabric, running down my thigh, but unfortunately, my shorts are still soaked.

“Sorry it took so long,” I say, pulling the hem of my shorts down as a pair of dirt stained boots come into my peripheral vision.

I look up at the person waiting for me and immediately wish I was more put together than I am.

Damnit. I take it back. I take it all back. I am trying to impress someone.

No, no, no. I scold myself. You are not trying to impress anyone.

My focus shifts to Hudson’s eyes, and he holds me my attention, threatening to overtake me and never let go.

“You okay? You look like you’re having a rough day,” he says, nodding his head to my clothes.

That’s the understatement of the year because it’s more like I’m having a rough life.

“I’m–I’m fine.” I look up at him, wishing I could come up with something else to say.

He cocks his head to the side, trying to decide if he believes the lie coming out of my mouth. “Okay.”

I stand, mounted in place, staring at him like a stalker until I finally say, “I’ll check you out.” I want to face palm myself because yeah, I’d love to check him out, not like I haven’t been doing just that since I saw him at the bar last night, but that’s not what I meant. “The register,” I say, indicating behind me where the ancient computer is.

He follows behind me, not saying a word as I lead him through the garage. I can feel his eyes burning holes into my back with each step I take. I hold my head up high, back straight, convincing myself that he has no impact on me–that he’s just a random guy who waltzed in the garage, not someone who is putting me under a spell.

I stop in front of the computer and click through serval screens, ignoring the goosebumps on my arm from his proximity. I clear my throat and say, “It’s $193.”

Hudson’s arm moves around to his back pocket, and the muscles move the same way they did last night, solid and sure. I lick my dry lips, wanting nothing more than to feel the strength in those arms. Wanting to touch every inch of his skin. I’m a seriously deprived woman. My head has gone in the gutter more in the last twenty-four hours than it has in the last six months.

He whips his credit card out of his wallet, and I take it from him. My fingers brush his for a split second before I jerk my hand away.

Electricity. Jolt. Spark. Whatever you want to call it, it was there in that one instant, that one half-second we collided, touching for the first time. It fucking scares the shit out of me.

I want to run. I want to fall into his embrace.

I never want to see him again. I never want to let go.

All of it, waging a war inside of me, leaving me a jumbled mess.

I swipe his credit card, willing payment to process faster, but it takes what feels like a lifetime with the slow internet connection. Seconds tick by feeling like minutes as I tap my foot.

Once his payment is processed, I hand his card back to him, holding the smallest part of the corner that I can, to ensure another spark isn’t lit. I can’t handle another touch because I’ll never want him to leave my side. I’ll want him to take all the bad out of my world, leaving an ever-brilliant light I never could have imagined.

“So what else do you do?” Hudson asks, shoving his wallet in his back pocket as I salivate over his porn-worthy veins.

Maybe I was a vampire in another life. Wait…are vampires real? I roll my eyes at myself.

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.

“You’re a bartender and a mechanic. Is there anything else I should know?” he questions with a raised brow and a hint of amusement in his voice. I’m glad he finds me so amusing. “I mean, am I going to bump in to you anywhere else?”

“Nope. Just the two jobs.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping to run in to you again.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but unless you need more work on your car or another cup of water,” I tease, “you won’t be bumping in to me anywhere else.”

He smiles, and I will my heart to keep beating because the sight of his beautiful mouth pulled across his face is too much. If there was such a thing as perfection, he would be it.

“You’ll see me again,” he says, sounding confident.

I grip the mouse in my hand, my eyes skating across his face and down to chest. I’m not sure if I like his confidence or hate it. If I was smart, I would tell him to stay away from me–for both our sakes. But I’m not.

“Okay,” I breathe out.

He stares through me, dissecting me. Curiosity swims through his chocolate brown eyes, probably wondering why I have two jobs. But he doesn’t need to know, and I don’t need anyone’s pity, especially not his.

When his gaze becomes too much, I say, “See ya around.” I need him to leave before he invades all my senses.

His boots shuffle against the concrete, the sound moving farther away until it stops. I glance up to find him hovering at the edge of the shop facing me, his eyes studying the curves of my face. “I’ll see you soon, Jade,” he promises.

He turns away, walking to his car. Saying I hope I don’t see him anytime soon is a lie, but it would be better for him if he didn’t get wrapped up in a girl who can barely hold herself together.

Hearing the engine of his car turn over, I blow out a sigh of relief. Grateful he’s gone yet utterly disappointed.

Everyone leaves the shop an hour early because there isn’t anything to do. That’s the one perk of this job, when we’re as dead as roadkill, Harry lets us leave, but I know it’s just because he doesn’t want to pay employees to sit around watching paint peel off the walls.

I hop on my bike and pedal home for some much-needed rest. Rest I’ve needed for far too long. Right now, I’m dreaming of falling on my bed and not getting up until tomorrow morning. My body is seriously dragging, begging me for sleep, and I fully intend on giving in to its wishes.

When I arrive home, I throw my bike up against the house. I’m grateful the toys haven’t migrated over to our front yard since I put them back on the neighbor’s lawn. Lawn is kind of a comical word, though, because it’s mostly dirt. All the trailers have a front lawn full of dirt with sparse patches of grass scattered around.

As soon as I place my foot on the first step, my dad comes flying out the front door carrying Mom in his arms.

“What’s going on?” I ask in a panic as my eyes scan Mom.

“Hospital. Now.”

Dad hurries down the steps and to the cab that’s pulling up to the trailer, and I run to the cab, throwing open the back door. He places Mom in the backseat and rushes around the back of the cab to slide in on the other side. I jump in the passenger seat, slamming the door.

“Take us to the hospital,” I rush out, not fully knowing the details of what’s happening.

The cab driver’s eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen anyone’s eyes be. He nods his head before driving away from our house.

“Why didn’t you call an ambulance?” I question as I glance over at Mom who looks paler than a white cotton bed sheet.

“We can’t afford that.”

“Mom’s more important than money.”

What was he thinking? Sure, this cab is cheaper, but I would never sacrifice her well-being just because of cost. Shit, that’s why I work so much.

Neither of my parents know, but I’m able to save a good chunk of money every month, and it’s for emergencies just like this.

Mom gasps for air, sweating profusely, and I can see the pain written across her face as she clutches her chest, pleading for it to stop.

“I–I…” She attempts to speak as her entire body stiffens “…can’t,” she pulls on her shirt, wrenching it away from her chest, “…breathe.”

Her hazel eyes, the same as mine, hold me, and I see her unvoiced question swimming in her eyes, Is this it?

It’s not–not if I have anything to say about it.

I swing my head toward the driver. “Can’t you drive any faster?” I yell, shooting him a death glare.

“I’m going as fast as I can, lady.”

“You’re going the speed limit. Drive fucking faster. I’ll pay your damn ticket.”

He glances over at me apprehensively but gives in when I inch closer to him about to threaten his life if he doesn’t step on the gas.

I wish I could help Mom. I wish I could take it away. There are a lot of things I can’t change, but if I could alter one thing in my lifetime, it would be for me to take her place–to end her suffering. Then she could live the rest of her life in a better place than this, with a husband who cares for her and a daughter who amounted to more than I ever will.

Two more minutes. She only has to hang on for two more minutes.

Mom was diagnosed with coronary artery disease three years ago. It’s a day I’ll never forget, and one I wish could be erased from my memory like an Expo marker on a white board–wiped away, forgotten.

She had a heart stent placed. It was supposed to help her pain and was the safer option compared to coronary artery bypass surgery, but ever since then, she’s been worse.

The cab driver pulls in to the front of the hospital, and I kick open my door, shooting out of the cab and running inside. “I need help, please,” I say frantically, looking around for someone paying attention to the lunatic girl yelling in the middle of the emergency room.

A man comes jogging up to me with a wheelchair. “Lead the way.”

I turn on my heel and speed out of the sliding glass doors where Mom is leaning against the side of the cab, fighting to hold herself up while my useless dad gets out of the other side of the car.

I grab her elbow and direct her to the wheelchair beside her. Once she’s sitting, the guy carts her off. “I’ll take care of her!” he shouts over his shoulder before they disappear inside the hospital.

I breathe a small sigh of relief knowing she’s getting help, not the help she really needs, but something to help her pain in this moment.

“Thank goodness we made it,” Dad huffs, scratching his head.

I glare at him, wanting nothing more than to smack him. Had he called an ambulance, she would have been here ten times faster.

He throws his thumb over his shoulder. “You should pay the cabbie.”

I should rip your face off.

I yank my credit card out of my pocket to pay the guy, and I leave him a more than fair tip for having to deal with the whole situation.

I slam the door of the cab closed, and the guy skids off faster than we can take one step. I don’t blame him. He had no idea what he was in for when he showed up at our place.

“Wonder how long we’ll be here. I’ve gotta get back–”

“To what?” I cut him off, agitated. “You don’t have a job. You don’t do anything except sit in front of the television. What could be more important than Mom?”

“I, uh, I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Stay away from me.” I turn my back on him and march through the sliding glass doors.

I wonder why Mom ever put up with him, but I guess he hasn’t always been this way. We all changed when Mom took a turn for the worst. I became a raging bitch, and Dad turned into someone I don’t even recognize. It’s like he turned off every emotion coursing through him to make himself feel better.

We all deal with situations differently, but I don’t understand how he can stop caring. Sure I see the hurt he hides from time to time, like earlier when he was rushing to get Mom to the hospital, but that was one instant…fleeting.

The truth is, I haven’t seen my dad the same since I was in elementary school. The man posing as my dad is a man I won’t ever love the way a daughter should.

But most of the time, I wish he wasn’t around. I wish he would leave, so I didn’t have to take care of him. There are a lot of things I wish in this life, but just because I want them to be true doesn’t mean they ever will be.

I weave through the hospital, searching for the front desk like a lost puppy. Hospitals are depressing as hell. I don’t know how people who work here do it. Death and misery. If I had to witness that every day, I don’t think I would be a sane person. Although, I’m not sure I’m much of one now.

I spot the receptionist desk across from the packed waiting room. Families crowd around each other, seeking comfort from one another. Comfort I’m not sure they’ll find.

Patients sit in the worn-out cloth chairs, waiting for someone to help them–someone to fix them.

I wish someone could fix me. I might not be broken on the outside, but on the inside, I’m decaying into nothing. It didn’t happen overnight. It was the small things that built up over time, and eventually it got to be too much. But I know it won’t be long until everything boils over–until everything I’ve been running from catches up to me and the last shred of my sanity breaks, turning my remains into a pile of ash.

I step up to the desk, looking down on the older lady dressed in blue scrubs on the other side. Her fire red hair shines under the florescent lights and compliments her smooth, pale complexion. “I’m looking for Elizabeth Hart.”

She taps her keyboard for a few seconds. “I don’t see anyone by that name,” she says apologetically.

“They brought her in a few minutes ago.” Meaning she probably hasn’t been registered as a patient. Crap. “She has heart problems. A younger guy brought her in from outside.”

“I’m sorry, Miss, until she’s in our computer system, I can’t help you.”

Fucking great.

I turn on my heel, searching for the guy who brought my mom inside. I don’t see him, but I do find my dad plopped on a chair, watching the television hanging in the corner of the waiting room.

I let out a groan of frustration knowing he won’t be any help.

I walk down one of the halls, ignoring the signs that say visitors not permitted. If they didn’t want people wandering the halls, they should have better security. The two nurses and doctor I pass along the way don’t say a word about me being in an unauthorized hallway, so I keep walking, searching for my mom.

There isn’t much in the hallway other than lame landscape pictures that a ten-year-old could have painted. You would think a hospital could afford art that doesn’t make me want to puke.

“Miss?” a male voice questions from twenty feet ahead of me.

I cringe, knowing he’s going to yell at me.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

As I get closer, I see it’s the guy who brought Mom inside. “Thank God. Where’s my mom?”

“She’s back here.” He gestures behind him with a jerk of his head. “Come on, I’ll take you to her.”

“How’s she doing?”

His eyes shift away from me with a weary expression on his face. “She’s fine.” He scratches the back of his head. “For now,” he mutters, barely loud enough for me to hear.

My heart plummets at my feet, wishing he hadn’t said it. I’d rather be naïve to her condition. Maybe if I don’t know all the facts, I can convince myself she’s fine. Maybe I can fool myself into thinking she’ll live a long and happy life. But life doesn’t work that way.

No matter how much I want to believe she’s okay, I know she’s not. I know she won’t be around much longer, but I’ll take what I can get. I’ll take the time I have left with her and cherish it as much as I can. But the thing is, I don’t have a lot of time to give her. The only thing I can give her is assurance that I’m working my ass off to take care of her.

Reality likes to bite me in the ass. I’d love to give reality a taste of its own damn medicine.

The guy, who is either a nurse or doctor, opens the door to Mom’s room and steps over the threshold. I follow behind him, holding my breath, unsure what condition she’s in.

My shoulders drop in relief when I see her sleeping upright in the hospital bed.

“I’m going to need you to fill out these forms, so we can get all her information in our database.”

I know what he’s really saying, ‘Fill out these forms, so we can make sure we get our money from you.’ They’ll get it. Unfortunately, that means it will take that much longer to save up the money I need for mom’s surgery.

“She’ll be discharged tomorrow. I’ll wait for you to fill out the forms.”

I fill them out faster than I should. Honestly, there isn’t a whole lot to fill out when you don’t have insurance. All I have to do is include her personal information and check the box that indicates self-pay.

I hand the clipboard over to him, and he walks out the door, leaving me alone. I collapse in the chair next to her bed, watching as her chest slowly rises and falls.

I grab her hand, holding it tight in my grip. My thumb sweeps across her hand as I let my head fall next to her arm.

I wish I could keep her in this state forever. Peaceful–not in pain.

There I go again, wishing.

Wishing like a damn fool.