4 Years Later
Josephine
Nicky hums to himself as he works, transferring notes from his volunteers into the program report he’s compiling on the screen.
He smiles so much these days. His pain is under control, and he’s so damn happy all the time.
As if he can sense me, he glances up.
“What?” He flashes me his signature grin.
It’s like watching Kendrick run the ball down the field or observing Kylian while he calculates a complex stats problem. My Emo Boy has found his passion and sense of purpose. He’s thriving, and it makes me so damn proud.
I shake my head. “Nothing. I just love seeing you in your element.”
“In my element, huh?” He sets his pen down and snaps his laptop closed, eyeing me hungrily.
“‘In my element’ isn’t one of my top five favorite places to be, Hot Girl. You know where is?” His hazel eyes darken as he lifts one brow.
“Oh no,” I hedge. “Don’t even look at me like that right now, Nicholas Lockewood. I have so much more work to do.” Tearing my focus from him, I frown at the hospital form I’ve been working on all afternoon.
“Study break?” he tries.
I shake my head, adamant about staying on task.
“How about a snack break?” he teases, running his tongue over his teeth and tilting his head back toward the kitchen. To the pantry.
I know that look in his eye. I know exactly what he wants for a snack.
But I really do have so much work to get done.
“I can’t,” I bemoan. “I have to get this paperwork submitted by tonight.” Blowing out a frustrated breath, I bite the inside of my cheek to stave off tears.
I’ve always been an angry crier. Though I can’t blame anger this time. I’m just so damn frustrated.
I worked my ass off to graduate with honors in three years. After undergrad, I decided to pursue a master’s degree, and Nicky joined me.
We’re both enrolled in Lake Chapel University’s nonprofit incubator program. We’ll graduate with master’s degrees in nonprofit administration next year, and when we do, we’ll each have developed startup nonprofit organizations we have to create through the program.
Nicky’s organization is thriving. The Pick-Up Pals program provides safe transportation, tutoring, after-school activities, snacks and dinner, and more to the kids it serves.
The organization is expanding by leaps and bounds, and already, other communities across the state are interested in adopting the concept.
It’s a delicate balance, though. Nicky is so thoughtful about how he wants to operate the after-school programs and what sort of training volunteers must receive to be a Pick-Up Pal.
He insists that either he or Ash has to interview and train every candidate.
He rejects more applicants than he takes on, and only half of those make it through the thirty hours of required training and safety certifications.
He's a papa bear when it comes to protecting and advocating for the kids in his program. I’m so freaking proud of him, and I love seeing him work toward something he’s passionate about.
I, on the other hand, am flailing through this program on my best days. The focus of my nonprofit is to bring spa and beauty services into hospitals, offering bedside treatments for child and adolescent patients and their families.
For almost a year, I’ve been working on it, and I haven’t even been able to offer a single service yet.
I can’t help but think this is how Decker feels more often than not: learning lessons the hardest way before he gets it right.
Early on, I discovered that my services can’t be called “treatments,” because that confuses the hospital staff and the patients’ families.
Then I had to submit all my products and implement cleaning processes to the OSHA coordinator at the hospital, only to have to change a host of supplies and procedures to be compliant with their requirements.
If that wasn’t enough, each hospital will have its own requirements and submission process, so there’s no way to scale the organization effectively.
Cutting through all the red tape to get things going has been a huge obstacle.
But I refuse to give up.
“You look sad.” Nicky nudges my foot under the table.
I bite back tears. I hate the idea of admitting defeat.
“It’s a lot harder than I expected it to be. I can’t help but think that I’m getting it wrong. Maybe this isn’t the right path for me.”
He rises from his seat and takes his time circling the table. When he’s at my side, he squats and collects my hands in his.
“Or maybe,” he hedges, “it’s time that you finally ask for help.”
I huff out a breath. We’ve been over this so many times.
“I don’t want to use my last name to get my foot in the door or to bypass the standard processes.
” The Crusade name still carries a lot of weight in this town—hell, in the state—but I refuse to rely on my husband’s reputation to make my organization a success.
“Forget Decker,” he says.
“Hey!” my husband calls out from the kitchen. He’s on dinner duty tonight. “I heard that!”
“Stop eavesdropping, Cap,” Nicky hollers back. Grinning, he turns his focus back to me. “Who else do you know who might be connected to a hospital?”
I huff. I have to figure this out on my own. There’s no one else who can—
Oh. That’s not true.
Squeezing Nicky’s hands gently, I sit a little straighter. “I didn’t even think of him.”
“I’m sure he’d be more than willing to help.”
He’s right. Greedy would help me in a heartbeat. He’s a med student these days, but his father is Chief of Staff at Lake Chapel General.
Why have I not considered this before?
Nicky pecks me on the lips, then kisses the tip of my nose. “I love that you’re so independent, Hot Girl, but you don’t have to prove anything to anyone or do things on your own anymore. Remember that, okay?”
“Thanks, Nicky,” I murmur, melting into his hold.
He snakes his arms around my waist and lifts me off the chair.
Before I can protest, remind him that I have mountains of work to get done, he hoists me higher, cups my ass, and kisses me senseless while carrying me out of the room.
“You need a break,” he hums against my mouth, marching right past my husband. “And an orgasm. What do you say, Hot Girl? Want to drive Decker crazy? Let’s go at it in the pantry while he’s stuck at the stove stirring risotto.”
I snort at the very idea but can’t stop the grin that splits my face. With my arms tight around his neck, I kiss him back with fervor as we make our way into one of his favorite places in the whole world.