My Sweetest Sasha: Cole's Story (Meadows Shore Book 2) (12 page)

He drove to her neighborhood, scouring the streets for any sign of her. Streets littered with junkies and suppliers, with lost souls trading their bodies for a fix. A veritable open market, selling nothing wholesome or healthy.
If she didn’t take a cab home, I’m gonna blow a gasket
.

He knocked on the apartment door and tried the knob. It didn’t budge,
thank God
.

A small hoarse voice came from inside, “This isn’t a good time.”

“I came to check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine. Open the door. I’m not leaving until I lay eyes on you.”

And she knew he wouldn’t, so she unlocked the door and opened it partway.

Her hair was pulled back in a low, messy ponytail, and she had on a violet-blue camisole with matching drawstring pajama bottoms. Her eyes were red and puffy above tearstained cheeks.

His heart tightened at the sight of her. “Didn’t I tell you not to go into the observation room?”

“You’ve seen me, now go.” And she pushed the door closed. But he managed to wedge a shoulder into the opening before it shut completely.

“I’m sorry. I hate seeing you like this.”

She nodded. Tears collected and dripped from the washed-out pools, trickling down her cheeks.

He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her against his chest. “I’m sorry you had to see it—that you were alone.”

“It was terrible. So terrible. You worked so hard, everyone worked so hard, never gave up.”

“It happens. And every time it does, it sucks the life out of you. It never gets much easier, but the first time is the worst. The absolute worst,” he said stroking her head. “After the first time, you learn to focus on the faces of the kids you did save, and you pray you’ll save the next one. You have to go with that, because there’s nothing, nothing, that can help anyone make sense of a kid dying.”

* * *

After a few minutes, she realized he was holding her snugly against his warm, hard body … and she liked it. She loved it, in fact. For the first time in hours, she relaxed, but she didn’t dare allow herself to linger too long, because it felt too good, almost dangerous. So she did what any other sane woman would do: she tore herself away from his strong, warm embrace, to save herself the pain of him pulling away first.

* * *

When she ripped herself away without warning, he was lost. He’d finally found the one thing that consoled him, eased his grief, and in a snap of a finger, she was gone, leaving his arms and his soul barren.

Desperate to touch her again, he smoothed her hair, gently brushing it off her face. “Let me stay here with you for a little while. You’ll feel better when it’s daylight.”

Cole insisted on making her tea, and they sat on the sofa and talked for a long time. She fought off the urge to sleep, but it became stronger and stronger, until she succumbed.

* * *

When Alexa opened her eyes in the morning, he was gone. She remembered waking up during the night in his arms—at least she thought she remembered it. Maybe it was just a dream. No, it wasn’t a dream. The flood of warmth when she felt his heart beating against her cheek had been real. Very real.

She picked up her phone from the floor, Cole had left her a message about an hour earlier:
Left for the beach. Didn’t want to wake you.

She keyed in her response:
Thanks for staying.

Cole:
Didn’t do it just for you, did it for me too. Rough night to be alone.

Cole:
Are you Ok?

Alexa:
Yes. TY.

She closed her eyes and grinned like a fool, thinking about how wonderful it had felt in his arms. Like the first sunny day after weeks of rain, with the gentle rays caressing pasty cheeks, leaving them warm and rosy. She was still basking in the sunshine when Jill’s face crept in, an unwelcome shadow with a seductive voice:
we always do this
. Without warning, the sky opened, leaving her soggy and cold, because she knew there were scads of Jills running around the hospital—maybe even all over Boston. Cole had told her himself.

She refused to be delusional, wouldn’t allow herself the small luxury. Not for one more second. This was what Cole did … He took care of people. His family, his friends, his coworkers, his patients—he took care of everyone. And last night, she’d been just another person he needed to take care of. It was that simple.

* * *

He had the top down on the car, enjoying the hot sun and the cool breeze against his face. Meadows Shore beckoned, far away from Boston General, the din of the city, and Alexa Petersen.

When she opened the door last night in her pajamas, she’d taken his breath away. A lacy teddy and a garter belt wouldn’t have made her any sexier. When she fell asleep on him, he could’ve easily extracted himself, covered her with a blanket and left. But no, instead he convinced himself he was too tired to drive. He wanted to stay with her, wanted to comfort her, wanted to find comfort with her, he wanted those things so badly the thought of leaving had literally made his stomach turn.

It had been hot as hell in her apartment, but he hadn’t dared remove a stitch of clothing. Her pajamas were so thin that he could feel the surface of her skin through them when they spooned on the narrow sofa.

She was soft and pliant, and he was hard and throbbing as he imagined tugging on the drawstring of her pajama bottoms, easing his hands inside, and running them over her belly. Lower and lower, slowly, ever so slowly, until he found where she was hot and wet for him, and sliding his fingers over the slick heat. In the middle of his fantasy, she whimpered. Were they sharing the same dream? He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t want to wake her, didn’t want her to notice the bulge in his pants, didn’t want her to know this was about more than one friend comforting another.

Holding her after Jared died had helped him feel less alone. The heat from her body warmed him to his soul. It filled him. He’d wrapped himself around her on the cramped couch until she turned over and put her arms around him, clinging to him with her head on his heart, her heart thumping against his chest. He wouldn’t have traded that moment for all the sex in the world.

Sex didn’t fill the emptiness, it never really had; but in the last year, it had left him feeling particularly hollow. Sure it felt great, sometimes better than great, but five minutes after it was done, after he’d caught his breath and pulled on his pants, the loneliness crept back in, often darker than before.

He flipped through the radio stations, hoping to catch last night’s baseball scores. If his brothers knew what he thought about his sex life, they’d be rolling on the floor laughing their asses off. Maybe he was getting old, or maybe it was watching Max with Sophie.

If manwhore was a word in the dictionary, Merriam Webster would’ve pasted Max’s picture right next to it. His behavior before Sophie had epitomized the very meaning of the word. But after he met Sophie, he’d stopped cold turkey and never looked back. And every time Cole saw him, he couldn’t help but think that Max was one lucky son-of-a-bitch.

* * *

Alexa couldn’t get Jared’s twisted body or tormented face out of her mind. He’d been too young to die. She wondered if seeing him put to rest would bring her solace. Wondered if going to the funeral mass to pray for his soul, for his parents, his family, and friends would bring her peace, too.

Dressed in black, she took the subway to the church. It was packed, but she found a seat near the back and prayed along with the rest of the mourners, leaving through the back door when the last hymn began to play. She squinted when she stepped outside. The sun shone so brightly it was jarring after sitting for an hour in the somber church.

“Alexa!” Even before she turned in the direction of the voice, she knew it was Cole. She hadn’t noticed him in the church, but there were so many people. He was wearing his navy suit, but without the cheery shirt and tie.

He touched her arm when he approached. “Hey.”

“Hi. I thought you were at the beach.”

“I came back this morning.”

“For the funeral?”

He didn’t say anything.

“I came because … ”

“I know why you came. It’s why I came too.”

He put his arm around her, and she allowed herself to enjoy the comfort for a few minutes.

“Do you always go to patients’ funerals?”

“I try. It helps me remember they’re more than charts. They have families, people who love and care about them. It’s pushes me to be better.”

“You did everything you could.”

“Maybe. But there’s no way of knowing for sure.” He pulled her closer. “I’m parked around the corner.”

* * *

The walk to the car with her tucked against him had been too short, and the ride to her apartment shorter still. He didn’t want her to get out of the car. Didn’t want to spend the rest of the day without her.

“Do you want to come in for some come coffee?” she asked.

He stared down at the steering wheel and shook his head.

“Okay. Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He didn’t want to let her go, but he didn’t want to be alone in the apartment with her either. Not today. Not when they both needed to get lost in each other—well, he needed it anyway. He needed it bad.

“Go inside and change. Put on something real casual. I’ll be back to pick you up in half an hour.”

She started to say something, and he put his finger over her lips to quiet her. “Trust me. You won’t be sorry.”

When he pulled up, Alexa was sitting on the stoop in jeans, not fancy designer jeans, but Levi’s, molded around her tight little ass like they’d been custom fitted. She had on a blue tank top that dipped low in the front, and flip-flops exposing fire-engine red toenails. He remembered those toes from the other night—they’d made his dick jump then, too.

When she got in the car she smelled like heaven. Expensive heaven. He wondered if she had a weakness for perfume. Maybe that’s what she spent her money on. If only it were so simple. “Nice perfume.”

She seemed a bit embarrassed when he noticed she’d sprayed some perfume. “Thank you. I like it too.”

“What’s it called?”

“
Pamplelune.
They were giving out samples at Sephora yesterday and I took one—wish I’d taken two. It smells so nice. Where are we going?”

“To lunch. No one should be alone after a funeral. I thought we’d spend the afternoon outside the city, somewhere no one will recognize us and question your integrity.”

“It’s not just about my integrity.”
Not anymore.

She was hemming and hawing, so Cole pulled the car over onto the shoulder of the highway. He gently tucked her hair behind her ear so he could see her face. “This is not a date. It’s companionship—nothing romantic about it, nothing— just a pleasant afternoon with a friend. But when your report’s done, you owe me a date. A real date. Okay?”

Why had he just asked her for a date? What was wrong with him? Even when the coaching was over, it was unlikely he’d pursue her. The better he got to know her, the more he liked her, and the more he liked her the more he knew he should leave her alone. Leave her to find a nice guy with a nine-to-five job. She’d be happier with that kind of life. Hell, anyone would be happier with that kind of life.

Over the years he’d watched too many of his colleagues in bad relationships, relationships that began with love and ended in hate. Christian and Clarisse were the most recent casualties. He quickly pushed them out of his mind, because it was too damn painful to think about.

He’d long ago decided that he couldn’t bear to watch a relationship wither and die. That kind of failure would destroy him. He wasn’t a confirmed bachelor, and he’d always hoped that when it came time to cut back on his surgical schedule, he’d meet someone to share his life with. Someone like Alexa. But the timing was all wrong now.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting her. No amount of logic or reason could stop him from wanting to kiss her. Kiss away all her worries, kiss away all of his.

“Cole?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can we please get back on the road? The cars whizzing by are scaring me to death.”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

“When was the last time you were on a date?” she asked when they were safely on the road again.

“A real date?”

She nodded.

He thought for a minute. “Does dinner in the cafeteria and an evening in the medical supply closet count?”

“I hope that’s not what you had in mind when you promised me a date.”

“I’d never dream of buying you dinner in the cafeteria.” He squeezed her hand to let her know he was teasing, and then loosened his grip, but didn’t let her go. “Honestly, probably the senior prom was my last real date.”

“High school?” she asked, incredulous.

“No one really dates in college, they hang out in groups and then hook up at the end of the night. Medical school wasn’t much different, just less free time to hang out. I’ve taken some women to events and stuff over the years, but I don’t count those as real dates.”

They pulled off the highway into a quaint little town called Wannamoisett, once inhabited by the Wampanoag Indians.

“I grew up not too far from here. When I wanted a little privacy, this is where I’d come. It’s one of my favorite places.”

They stopped at a clam shack with an expansive lawn dotted with weathered picnic tables. Families of all shapes and sizes rested on the benches, enjoying the lazy afternoon. Three young children sat quietly on a large rock in the shade of a towering pine, madly licking ice cream from cones, their little tongues catching the drips that escaped onto their sticky fingers. It looked like serious business.

Cole ordered fried clams, a lobster roll, and clam cakes, which he explained were similar to corn fritters, but with bits of clam instead of corn.

“Are we expecting company?”

“I grew up with a Portuguese mother and grandmother ... you can never have too much food.”

They took their lunch to a nearby beach where a bridal party was being photographed near the shoreline. The bride’s veil billowed every time it caught the wind, interrupting the photographer’s work. Bridesmaids wearing short fuchsia dresses that flared at the waist stood beside groomsmen in ink black tuxes. The photos would be spectacular.

“People come here to take wedding pictures all the time. Sometimes they even hold weddings at the base of the lighthouse. There must be some type of romantic lore associated with this place, but I don’t know it.”

“Lighthouses helped guide mariners back to the women who loved them. That’s pretty romantic in and of itself,” she said.

“Yeah, I guess it is. I hadn’t thought about it like that before.”

They climbed out onto the rocks, and ate lunch while wisps of ocean air skittered across their skin. And they talked. Now that they were speaking again, they always had so much to say. Cole, of course, had an opinion about everything, and, well, so did Alexa. When they tired of the animated debate and chatter, they sat comfortably side by side, each with their own thoughts, like friends who had known each other for years rather than weeks.

She had never eaten a clam and was a little squeamish about trying one.

He scooped one up with his fingers. “You have to try this. Come on. I never figured you for a chicken.” He held his hand to her mouth and fed her the crispy shellfish, using his thumb to wipe a crumb off her bottom lip, and then ran the pad over the tip of her tongue so she could lick the tiny morsel into her mouth.

It was such an erotic gesture that she moaned softly while his thumb slid over the moist pink flesh. “It’s delicious.”

“The clam or my thumb?” he asked in a husky voice.

“Both,” she whispered.

He put his head back and groaned. “I’m dying here. Let’s talk about something that’ll make me forget I want to lay you down on these rocks and … ”

“My family?”

“Yeah. That’ll do it.”

And for the first time she opened up about her family. Really opened up, something she’d been reluctant to do before now. She told him they’d never made the trip to Boston.

“Not even for graduation?” he asked with a wrinkled brow and a tone that didn’t mask his displeasure.

She shook her head. “It’s not because they don’t care about me. They don’t have money to travel, and graduation fell during planting season.”

“They could’ve driven.”

“It takes too long to drive from Minnesota to Boston and back. Crops wait for no one. Plus, driving takes money too, and it puts a lot of mileage on the truck. I know it’s hard to understand when you don’t ever have to think about money.”

“You’re right, I’ve never had to worry about money. But don’t think for one second that I grew up surrounded only by wealth. My mother was an immigrant who waitressed and did piecework in a garment factory. My grandmother and aunts worked in sweatshops until the factories closed, and then they wanted to take jobs cleaning motel rooms on the Cape. But my father and uncle put an end to that idea pretty quickly.”

She put her hand on his arm. “I know your parents are gone. What happened?”

“That’s a story for another time. I’ll tell you, but not now. We’ve already met our quota of sadness for today.”

They sat on the rocks, watching the sailboats bob in the distance, and finished lunch. While he gazed out across the ocean, it occurred to him that she might be supporting her family, and he wanted to kick himself for not thinking of that sooner.

“Do you send your parents money, is that why you don’t spend any on yourself?”

She froze.

He rested one hand on her thigh and used the other to lift her chin toward him. “I’m on your side, no judgments here. I would do the same thing if I needed to. My family’s everything to me.”

She picked at the imaginary lint on her jeans, not saying a word.

“Alexa? Please talk to me.”

“My father entered into a bad contract with a large grain supplier with a reputation for being unscrupulous. For the last few years they’ve been buying up farmland all over Minnesota, putting small- to medium-sized farms, like my family’s, out of business. He should never have signed the contract. It was so one-sided even a first year law student would’ve known better.”

“Did he have a lawyer?”

“That’s the strangest part. Yes. And I can’t imagine he would have gone against his lawyer’s advice and signed that contract.”

“Maybe when he read it he didn’t see it as a bad deal.”

“He never read it.”

“How do you know?”

“He has severe dyslexia. I’ve seen the contract, and there’s no way he could have made heads or tails of it.”

“If he has dyslexia, and couldn’t read the contract, can’t he get out of it?”

“It’s not that simple. He’s never admitted to the dyslexia. He compensates, pretends it’s his failing eyesight, but he’s dyslexic. Owen, too.”

She sighed heavily. “I don’t send money to them. I’ve worked out a payment plan with the company to pay off the debt. But the terms are tough because they don’t really want the money. They want the land.”

“What are the payments like?”

“About eight thousand dollars a month.”

“Alexa,” he breathed. “You need help with this. That’s got to be your entire salary.”

“I know. I plan on getting a second job, but as long as I’m shadowing you, it’s impossible. I can’t save any money for Owen’s education until I get out from under this mess. The payments will end in about three years, but I need to start saving before then.”

“What does Owen need?”

“He needs a tutor and a special school. If he has those things, he can have the same opportunities as any other child. Right now he hardly goes to school at all. He hates it. And my father remembers the pain of school, of feeling like you’re dumb even when you’re not. So they let him stay home. And even if he went to school, with all the budget cuts, they can’t give him the services he needs to succeed.”

“There’s got to be a way to help him.”

“There is. I can help him. I can make sure he has everything he needs. I can make sure he doesn’t end up like my dad, hiding, isolated, and ashamed. Settling for one life when he really wants another. I won’t let it happen to that little boy.”

“Alexa … ”

“I have tremendous earning potential. I can change the trajectory of Owen’s life, make sure he has a bright and happy future. But first I need to pay off this debt, and I need to do it before Owen gets too far behind, before the spirit’s ripped right out of his chest.”

His own chest tightened at the staunch determination in her voice. “Have you talked with your mom about all of this?”

“I tried talking to her about Owen and my dad—the dyslexia. But she won’t discuss it with me. She’s trying to protect everyone, especially my dad, in the best way she knows how. We’re not like your family. It’s different—cultural, geographic, I don’t know. But we’re different.”

“What about getting a lawyer?”

“Even if I could afford one, and I can’t, the company’s legal team will bury me under a mountain of paperwork. Plus it’s not my property. No one will touch the case without my parents’ consent, and they don’t know I’m paying off the debt. They think the company hasn’t come after them yet.”

Cole wished he could write her a check, take care of her problems, but the woman got prickly every time he bought her a lousy cup of coffee. He took both her hands in his. “I want to help you work this out. You need to let me help you.”

* * *

She shook her head. “Absolutely not. This is my family, my problem, and I’m managing. Things will be better in another week, when I can start a second job.” She tried to put a good face on it, but in another week, after she turned in the report, she might not have even one job, let alone two. But she couldn’t tell him that; he carried enough burdens.

Cole ignored her, acting like she’d said,
sure I’d love your help. Got any ideas?
“Do you remember Max, Sophie’s husband?” he asked.

“The overprotective new father?”

He gave her a small smile. “Yeah.”

“Max practices business law. Does a lot of high-level negotiating with some real big players.”

“Cole, didn’t you hear a word I said?”

“You need someone on your side. Do you have a copy of the contract?”

She nodded.

“Let’s call him and see if we can bring over dinner tonight, and maybe get his advice on this. You can’t keep up this pace, Alexa.”