Nash (22 page)

“Soooo?”

I jolted and sloshed the hot liquid over my fingers. I gave her a dirty look and found a paper towel to

clean up the mess.

“So what?”

She rolled her eyes at me and poked me in the arm. “So how was the date with the doctor? You

sounded exhausted this morning when I called, so I assume it went well. I bet you made a beautiful pair.”

I tried to keep my face impassive but I couldn’t keep looking her in the eye. Not when I had ditched the

awful doctor and spent the rest of the night being thoroughly debauched by Nash.

“I ended the date early.”

Her eyes got big and she wrinkled her nose up at me. “You had him take you home early?”

I sighed and tossed my paper cup of now-lukewarm coffee into the trash.

“He was a jerk and so full of himself. His friends were appalling and the party was really just a group of

people standing around trying to outdo each other. I was uncomfortable and bored, so I called a friend and

left early. Dr. Bennet and I are really not compatible.”

She gave me a considering look.

“The guy with the nose ring?”

“What about him?”

“Is that the friend you called?”

I refused to feel bad about it or ashamed. There was nothing wrong with Nash. In fact there was so

much right with him I was having a hard time remembering why I needed to watch my tender heart and

fragile feelings around him in the first place.

“Yes.”

She made a noise and followed me out of the room. One of the medical assistants handed me a new file

and told me there was a patient waiting in one of the rooms for me.

“I know based on first glance you wouldn’t think he was a really nice guy, but really he is.”

She shrugged and started walking the other direction from me. “What I think really doesn’t matter, I

guess. Do you even realize that you’ve been grinning all day? I’ve never seen you do that. You always look

so serious and intent, but today”—she took her index fingers and tugged up the corners of her own mouth

—“you are just one big ball of cheer. That makes me happy for you. I don’t care who put the smile there,

Saint, I just care that it stays.”

I was smiling, I hadn’t really thought about it. I was also sore and tired, had a hickey on my collarbone,

and my favorite pair of black underwear was in the trash. I would also never be able to rock my knee-high

boots again without having X-rated recollections of last night. I still wasn’t a hundred percent sold on the

fact I could get involved with a guy who had disappointed me so much in the past, that I could trust all

these things he was making me feel about him and about myself, but there was no denying I felt lighter,

more normal than I ever had with a guy before.

He was the only one I had managed to have a normal, sexy, and sensual time with and I wanted that,

wanted more than that really, if he was willing to offer it up. Not only did I desire this Nash, I think I

actually liked him and had to admit that I cared about him. We were so entangled in this entire thorny mess

I wasn’t sure how either one of us could get out of it without drawing some kind of blood and suffering

pricks of irritation.

I didn’t have the luxury of turning it over in my head to the point of exhaustion. My second shift was

just as busy as my first, and by the time I crawled home, I was too tired to function, let alone contemplate

what I was going to do about Nash or about us. I worked the next two days in a row, and though I wanted

to text Nash or give him a call to let him know I was at least thinking about him, I couldn’t seem to find the

right words. On the third day I decided to do something out of the box. I sent him flowers to the tattoo

shop, a pretty bouquet of roses in red, yellow, and orange that matched the fire tattooed all over him. The

colors were fitting in another way as well. Red meant romance and maybe even love, yellow was kindness

and friendship, and the orange passion and enthusiasm … we had those last two covered for sure. I did it

partly because the idea of sending a big, tattooed brute of a guy flowers made me laugh, and partly because

I wanted to
show
him that he was on my mind.

I didn’t stop to think if he would think it was dumb, didn’t get insecure or worry about how he would

take it. I just did it and sent along a card that simply said:
Thanks
. I was thankful for the ride, thankful for

the night in my bed, and mostly thankful for him just being him. I hoped he would understand all of it.

By the end of the day, I got a picture text message of the giant bouquet sitting in the center of the desk in

the very masculine shop. No one was in the picture, but several pairs of tattooed hands were in the

background throwing up the devil horns in approval. It made me laugh. Nash’s response was short and

sweet:

Never got flowers before … They are as pretty as you are.

Thank you.

I didn’t know what to say to that, but it made me feel like everything I thought I knew about myself was

wrong. I sent him back a smiley face and went back to work. Work was always my go-to when I had things

in my life that I couldn’t seem to get a handle on.

When I got home that night I was going to call him finally but was waylaid by an emergency phone call

from Faith. Apparently my mom had run into Dad’s new girlfriend at the grocery store and an ugly scene

had ensued. Things had been broken, property had been damaged, and my mom ended up with assault

charges leveled at her. Faith had begged Dad to convince his girlfriend not to press charges, knowing Mom

would pay for the things in the store she had destroyed, but he was zero help. He wanted Mom to get help,

to get over it, and I couldn’t say I totally disagreed with him. The whole situation sounded ridiculous and

completely out of control. My mom had gone too far, and my words about not wanting to bail her out of

jail were coming back to haunt me.

It was either have Faith load all the kids up in the car and drive her pregnant self to Brookside in order

to bail Mom out, or bite the bullet and do it myself. Of course that was the only option even though it was

absolutely something I didn’t want to do. So I left work, drove up to the mountain, and went and bailed my

mother out of the slammer. It was ludicrous and like something off a cheesy reality-TV show, and it made

me really wish I had managed to find the time to touch base with Nash because for some reason, talking to

him always made me feel better.

My mother was less than thrilled to see me. Maybe because she was embarrassed. Maybe because she

was covered in some kind of unidentified sticky substance and was sporting smudged makeup and an

unmistakable black eye. Or maybe it was because she was led into the waiting room of the tiny precinct by

a police officer younger than me still wearing handcuffs and looking pitiful. Or maybe it was because he

was calmly telling her not to miss her court date and that she might want to consider starting anger

management classes because the judge was sure to require them for her.

She caught sight of me and her head dropped a little. I took her arm and guided her out the front door

and into my car. She didn’t say a word to me, but I could see that she was crying silently. I was torn

between the urge to hug her and the urge to throttle her, but my frustration at her, the situation, and the state

of the family had reached its breaking point.

I huffed out a sigh and looked at her out of the corner of my eye.

“Okay, Mom. I need to know what the plan here is. Are you just going to keep chasing every kind of

pill you can get prescribed to you with a gallon of wine every day and use that as an excuse for all your

behavior? Are you going to cross the line and actually hurt someone, maybe even yourself? Are you so lost

in hurt and anger that you’re going to miss being a part of your daughter’s pregnancy because she is scared

of what you might do? I hate to break the news to you, Mom, but no one … I mean NO ONE … is going to

be willing to ride to your rescue anymore if you keep this up. At some point accountability needs to come

into play.”

She didn’t respond, just continued to sit quietly crying in the passenger seat while ignoring me. I didn’t

know what else to say to her. This had gotten so far out of hand too long ago and I wasn’t sure how to pull

it all back in. When we got to her house I pulled into the driveway and turned to look at her. She sniffled a

little and looked at me out of red-rimmed eyes.

“Your dad was my high school sweetheart. We dated all through college and I sacrificed everything so

he could go to dental school. I gave him a beautiful family, and I thought we were happy. It hurts so much

worse when I think about the idea that he just fell out of love with me than the fact that he moved on. How

can someone’s feelings for another person just go away, Saint? After everything?”

My heart twisted for her.

“I don’t know, Mom, and I can’t pretend to understand how badly Dad hurt you, but I do know what

you’re doing isn’t making you or anyone else feel better about it. Dad might have fallen out of love, but you

still have two daughters who love you and grandkids who miss having a happy and healthy grandma to

spend time with. We matter, too, Mom, and all of us hate to see what you’re doing to yourself.”

“I just want him to hurt as badly as he made me hurt.”

“Well, that isn’t going to happen.”

“It isn’t fair.”

I shook my head. “No, it really isn’t, but trust me, getting divorced and having to start over is the least

in life that isn’t fair. I had to watch the parents of a way too young girl realize that their daughter died for no

other reason than people can’t figure out how to be nice to each other. It isn’t that hard, just be nice and

people might not have to suffer needlessly, but that isn’t the world we live in, so young girls die. That isn’t

fair, Mom. People falling out of love is vicious and it sucks, but there are far worse things you could be

going through. I know that sounds harsh but it’s very true.”

Something moved across her gaze and she looked away from me.

“I forget what a remarkable life you’ve made for yourself, Saint. The strength you have to have to do

what you do is admirable and I very well may have lost sight of that in all of this. I hope you know that

beyond everything else, I am very proud of you.”

Wow. I hadn’t been expecting that.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Now put some makeup on and maybe a push-up bra and land one of those doctors you work with and

I’ll be over the moon.”

And there she was … that sounded more like my mom.

“Stay out of trouble, Mom, and maybe quit the pills.” I tried to keep it light but I made sure she could

see the concern I had for her in my gaze. I wanted better for her but realized she was going to have to take

some steps herself in order to get it.

She shut the door and headed up to the front door. I waited until she went inside and pulled out my

phone. I didn’t think about it, I just found his name in my phone book and pushed the button to call him.

He answered on the second ring.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” My voice dropped a little huskier against my will.

“What’s up?”

“Are you busy?”

“Yeah, right now I have a client and one more after. Why, what’s up?”

I chewed on my bottom lip and tapped my fingers nervously on my knee.

“Nothing really. I just had a really weird day and thought maybe hanging out with you would make it a

little better.”

He was quiet for a long minute and I thought he was going to tell me I had missed my window or that

maybe if I had bothered to call him sooner we could’ve made plans. This is why I sucked so hard at the

boy-girl thing. It was rude to just assume he would drop everything and make time for me. I knew his life

was busy and he had a lot of friends and people clamoring for his attention and time. Who was I to ask him

to be available for me when I finally forced myself to make the time for something other than my job?

“Yeah, we can hang out. Do you care if it’s later? I want to swing by Phil’s. He wasn’t looking very

good yesterday when I checked in on him, and I won’t be out of here until after eight, so like around ten or

so?”

I was off tomorrow, so he could show up at midnight for all I cared, just as long as he showed up.

“That’s fine. Do you want me to feed you?”

He chuckled and I heard him say something to someone in the background.

“No. Let’s go do something fun. Wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”

That was intriguing and had me curious, which was bizarre because I hated surprises.

“What does your idea of fun look like, Nash?”

“You’ll have to wait and see. Later, Saint.”

He hung up and I was left staring at my phone in wonderment. I didn’t know what I was doing, didn’t

know what he was doing to me, but there was no doubt he made my day better by simply being. I shuffled

through my music and landed on the Vines and headed back to the city.