Chapter 18
LAWSON
Lamont is late. It’s raining cats and dogs outside, and she’s not here.
Actually, at ten a.m., I think that’s considered a no-show. I wander to reception to ask Nadia if Carlie’s contacted the office. The receptionist is nowhere to be found. I walk twenty feet and knock on Serelle’s door.
“Come in.”
“Oh hey, Carlie isn’t here.”
“Yes, she called in sick this morning. She sounded awful. Kept repeating herself in the hoarsest voice, poor girl.”
Dammit.
“Right, thanks.”
Serelle holds a hand up. “Are you okay?”
I tap the wall with my knuckles. “Yep, good. Thanks.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “If you need the day off for any reason, I’m okay with that. Laptops were built to be mobile.” She winks before waving for me to close her door.
I nod and shut the door.
Settling back into the office, I run through the numbers, double-checking the balances against last quarter, this quarter, and the projections. After I come to the same conclusion four times, I decide there is somewhere else I’d rather be. I stare at the empty desk across the room.
I fling Carlie a text asking how she is.
It sends but doesn’t get read.
Should I go check on her?
No, I can’t.
I shouldn’t.
Could I?
I can’t show up at Carlie’s place. That’s certified stalker shit. Isn’t it?
Then I think of her home alone, having to parent a kid while she’s ill. Stressing over work and being sick. Dammit, I wasn’t raised to ignore my gut. Right now, it says I should be taking care of her.
Maybe I could just check in?
Take some food.
To lighten the load.
That’s reasonable. That’s what a friend would do.
I pack up my laptop and reports and grab my bag and jacket. Shoving my phone into my pocket, I head for the front desk again, hoping Nadia is there this time.
“Hi Lawson, how was the retreat?” Nadia beams at me.
“Good, it was good. Do you have Lamont’s address? I have to drop around to check on her.”
“Oh, we don’t usually give out . . . You know what, let me ask Serelle.”
“Sure.”
She phones the boss quickly and returns the receiver with a smile. She writes down an address and hands me the sticky note. “Serelle said take soup.”
“Thanks, will do.”
I make it downstairs and check in on the women and children Carlie let in yesterday morning. The mother with the little girl she was worried about is still here. Her daughter plays happily as she chats with one of our social workers. The update will cheer Lamont up, I’m sure.
Running through the rain, I make a quick stop at the convenience store for chicken soup and noodles. I grab two just in case Carlie’s daughter needs something to eat, too. I toss in a couple of chocolate frogs for good measure and grab an Uber to her address.
The building is much newer than my apartment building and I’m buzzed in by a doorman.
Shaking off the rain, I take the elevator to the fourth floor.
I cross the corridor to apartment 406 and knock.
If she’s sick, her kid might not let me in, stranger danger and all.
Adds would never let Hattie answer the door at my place.
No movement sounds from inside, and I’m about to knock again when the door opens. An old lady with curled grey hair and blue eyes looks up at me. Her tiny frame is swathed in light-blue pants and a matching button-down top. She smiles at me then tilts her head.
I lean back, double-checking the apartment number.
“I’m sorry, I must have been given the wrong address.” I run a hand through my hair.
She assesses me carefully with tight blue eyes. “Lawson?”
“Ah . . . Yes?”
Who is this?
Carlie’s grandma is in town? She never said anything. But then again, that’s no surprise.
“Why don’t you come in,” she says, nodding to the bag in my hand.
“Sure. Is Carlie okay?”
“Oh, that poor girl is as sick as a dog.”
I follow the old lady through the apartment.
It’s amazing. Much newer than mine. The kitchen is bigger than my bedroom.
The white tiled floor gives way to floor-to-ceiling windows and views of the city.
The living room is white and cream, with a large flat-screen to one side by a hallway that leads to what I assume are the bedrooms.
“Let me go and see if she wants visitors.” The old lady toddles down the hallway leaving me in the kitchen. I go ahead and put the soup and treats in the refrigerator. I drop my jacket and bag on the dining table, sliding my hands into my pockets. Carlie’s place is incredible.
“She said you can go in. Second door on the right. I’ll fix her some of your soup, our girl hasn’t eaten since she got home yesterday.” The old woman putters to the kitchen cupboards as I wander down the hall and knock on the door softly.
“Carlie?”
“Come.” The word is so soft, and far too low.
I open the door. She lies on her side, facing away from me. The blanket is pulled up to her shaking shoulders.
Shit.
I walk around to the other side and sit on the edge of the bed. “You’ve got a fever.”
“Thanks for the update.” Her browns narrow at me. She coughs, and the whole bed shakes.
Dammit. I lean over, resting the back of my hand on her forehead. She’s on fire.
“You had Tylenol?”
“We ran out, and I don’t want Mills going out by herself in this weather.”
“Mills?”
“You just met her, Lawson. Keep up.”
“Millie is your grandma?”
So, no daughter.
“Not my grandma. My Millie,” she rasps.
“Okay . . .”
“Another day.” She coughs, and her face pales in front of me. With a groan, she rolls over. “Help me up, will you?”
I scoot around the bed and take her hand. It’s freezing. She trembles as I help her out. An oversized T-shirt hangs off her frame, barely covering her ass. “Where are we going?”
“Toilet, I’ve been needing to go for ages, but Mills isn’t really the muscle around here.”
I chuckle. Guess that makes me the muscle today.
I walk her to the en suite, her legs shaking the entire way. She turns back, grabbing the door as we reach the bathroom. “I can take it from here, Rawlins.”
The door shuts in my face, and I make my way to the kitchen. Millie is ladling soup into a bowl on a tray. “Here, I got it.” I take the hot container from her hands.
I practically tower over her. She’s so small and frail.
Now I understand why Carlie was worried about leaving her alone for a week.
“Thank you, young man. This old woman isn’t as capable as she used to be.”
I return to Carlie’s room and sit the tray on her bedside table.
“Lawson?” My name is almost a whisper.
Walking to the door, I lean my head on it. “Yeah?”
“I—I’m . . .”
Retching echoes and slips out under the door.
Sweet Jesus.
Knocking, I say, “Coming in. Okay?”
“Okay.” The word is more a sob than a syllable. I find Carlie collapsed on the floor, her cheek resting on the toilet seat.
Fuck.
I hit the tiles with my knees and rub her back. “Hey, we need to get you some medicine.”
“Urgh, I know.”
“Are you going to be sick again?”
Her eyes close. “I don’t think so.”
I grab a hand towel and wet the corner and wring it out. Dabbing her mouth, I toss it into the sink before standing and sweeping her up off the floor. She moans. The movement must hurt her aching body. I lay her back in bed and prop her up on the pillows. “Stay right here. I’ll be back in twenty.”
A soft whimper tumbles from her lips as her head lolls onto the pillow and her eyes close.
Back in the kitchen I find Millie cleaning up the kitchen. “How is she?”
“I’m going out to grab some supplies, you need anything?”
“I’m fine. You go, she needs more than I can manage.”
“Be right back, okay?”
Grabbing my wallet, I slip outside and down the elevator. In the foyer, I tap my phone, hunting for the nearest pharmacy. Two blocks. Too easy.
Eight minutes later, I have a bag of Tylenol, ibuprofen, and electrolyte drinks in hand as I spill from the elevator and stride for apartment 406.
Millie opens the door for me before I have a chance to knock.
It’s then I notice the camera mounted to the left of the door.
Lamont takes her security seriously, I see.
Smart girl.
“I had to take her a bucket.” Millie wrings her hands.
“Okay, you have something to eat and have a break. I’ll take care of Carlie.”
She gives me a sad smile and pats my jaw like we’re family. I tug off my tie and roll my sleeves up as I toe off my shoes and head into Carlie’s room. The bucket is empty when I reach the bed, and Carlie is still shaking with fever.
“Time for your medicine.”
“Yes sir,” she croaks.
I sit her up and hand her the pills, twisting the lid from one of the electrolyte drinks. She takes them and rests back on the pillows. “Thank you.”
“I’ll check your temperature in twenty minutes.” I set the drink on her bedside by the soup.
I turn to leave, and fine fingers wrap around my wrist. “Stay?”
“You want me to stay and cuddle, Princess?”
Instead of reaming me out over the nickname, she huffs a strained laugh and closes her eyes. I stand for a beat, wondering when that changed. When her eyes open and I haven’t moved, I nod to the bed. “Permission to come aboard?”
“Granted, but keep your hands to yourself.”
“Yes ma’am.”
The sweetest lopsided smile breaks on her face.
I climb onto the other side of her bed, sitting at the top and leaning on the headboard. “So, tell me about Mills, your not-grandma.”
She rolls her head on the pillows, studying my face before she says, “We met at the convenience store once. I didn’t know it at first, but she had no family here and nowhere to go.”
“Now she lives here with you?”
A pretty smile blooms as she says, “She does.”
“Never would have taken you for a softie, Miss Carlie.”
“Huh, who you calling soft? You’re the one taking care of your archnemesis.”
I hold her gaze for a moment before muttering, “Not anymore.”
“You think you’ve been upgraded to the friend zone, do you?” Delight consumes her weary eyes.
“Oh, absolutely, otherwise you’ll be getting my bill in the mail tomorrow for all this pampering.”
She chuckles, but it deteriorates into a cough.
“I’m so tired,” she rasps. “So cold.”
Rolling over, she presses into my side, hunting for warmth. I slide my arm around her and lean my head back on the headboard. It’s been a long few weeks. I could just close my eyes . . .
“. . . t
ouch me, please.”
I blink against the darkness, remembering where I am. Carlie is still up against my side. My arm is numb from her lying on it for hours.
“More,” she whimpers.
Fever dreams?
I check her temperature with the back of my hand. The devil’s lair has nothing on the heat of her forehead. Shit, how long were we asleep?
I try to retract my arm, and she mumbles, rolling over, burying her face into my chest. Blonde waves fall over my arm and shoulder.
Even in the darkened room, the elegant features that make up Carlie Lamont take me aback. Maybe more so.
I run a hand over her hair and brush my hands over her neck. She’s too hot.
“Carlie, wake up.”
“Mmmmm, no.”
“We need to get some more medicine down, you’re burning up again.”
Her head rises, so slowly she looks out of it. Hell, she probably is, going by the mutterings that woke me up. “Lawson?”
“Yeah, right here.”
“I love your drawl.”
I chuckle.
She jerks, blinking. “Did I say that out loud?”
Running a hand over her forehead, I double-check her temperature. “Come on, you need some painkillers.”
“Did you know Millie has a boyfriend . . . his name is Henry.” She’s gazing nowhere in particular as she continues in a whispering tone, “Met him at book club.”
“Did she? Good for her.”
She tilts her head back. “You think so?”
“I do. Everyone deserves love.”
“You are such a sap.” Her eyes are half closed again.
I lift her from my body and sit her up. She sways on her seat. I pop the pills from the pack, and she opens her mouth. I drop them onto her tongue and press the drink into her hands. She swallows the pills, and I lie her back on her pillow.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” I say, leaving the bed. I pad into the kitchen, where the lights are all still on. Millie sits in an old armchair, watching television. She looks up at me. “Oh, how is she?”
“The fever’s pretty bad, but I gave her some more painkillers. You needing anything?”
I come to stand by her chair, and she takes my hand in both of hers. “No, sweet boy, I’m fine.”
It’s been a long time since anyone called me that.
“You holler if that changes, okay?”
“Alright, Cowboy.” A cheeky grin pops on her face as she goes back to her show.
Cowboy? What on earth has Carlie been telling her?
I grab a glass of water from the tap and stretch, checking my phone.
Missed call from Ma.
A text from Miles.
Where are you bud? Missed you at Murphy’s tonight.
Sorry, man, taking care of a sick friend. Catch you up next week, hey?
I send the text and turn the screen off.
I’ll get to them tomorrow. I look around for a clock before remembering my phone is in my hand. Man, I’m exhausted, too.
9:15 p.m. stares back at me.
I use the main bathroom and head back to Carlie. She’s awake when I come in, and her gaze doesn’t leave me as I cross the room to her bedside. She holds up a hand. “Why are you so nice to me?”
I sit on the bed by her side, and her hand reaches for my face. Her fingers brush over my jaw. Sweet Christ, how the contact sends my body into an unregulated frenzy.
Tenderness from this woman will be the end of me.
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
“I thought you hated me . . .”
“I’ve never hated you, Carlie.”
Her eyes narrow. “You sure?”
I chuckle. “Yep.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Not yep.”
Realizing what she’s asking for, I brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear and say, “Yes ma’am.”
Her lips part, her gaze drops to my mouth. “If I wasn’t sick and ridiculously disgusting, I would—”
Her eyes close. Her chest plummets, and I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with the illness.
“Get some rest. You text me if you need me, okay?”
“No, don’t leave,” she whines.
“I don’t think I should stay, not this time.”
Her face slackens, as if the penny’s dropped and she picked up on the ‘next time.’ I cup her cheeks and press a kiss to the crown of her head. A promise to return.
A promise, period.
“Night, Princess.”
“Goodnight, Cowboy.”
I smile at her, hesitating by the door before I slip out into the hall and pulling the door almost shut. I give Millie my number before seeing myself out.
Making it home, finally, I find Miles outside my apartment. And the shit-eating grin on his face tells me all I need to know.
He’s onto me.
There’s no keeping secrets from Miles Hammond.