Chapter 5
five
. . .
Maggie
“Girl.”
“I know,” I squeal.
“He is, like, next-level hot.”
“I know!” I giggle, kicking my feet, nearly knocking the phone off the couch. “I would have said it was the head injury, but I mean, he was doing that thing where a guy’s eyes fall to your lips.”
“Oh my God, yes! Did you bite your bottom lip?”
“Hell yes, I did!”
“Yes, girl. What did he do?”
“He blushed.” I giggle again, wiggling like a loon. “He listened so intently and was so careful. If I had known all I had to do to get his attention was get knocked out by a cock, I would have done that sooner.”
“And you thought the cock failed you.”
“I did! But, Willa,” I gush, “he talked to me more today than he ever has, and I swear he was flirting with me.”
Willa snorts, and I can just imagine her rolling her eyes. “Of course he was. You’re single and hot. Not a washed-up mom like me.”
I sigh deeply at the pain in her words. I know she meant it offhandedly, but my sister hasn’t had the best luck lately. “Do we need a pep talk?”
I hear the tears in her voice clearly through the speakerphone.
“Maybe? It was a rough day. The boys ran me ragged, and then Adam asked why everyone else gets a dad but his has to be dead, and Wyatt pops off with because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time, and everyone in the bleachers looked at me like I was the worst mom on earth, and then the bag boy called me ma’am.
Like I’m an old lady and not a young, hip mom. ”
She exhales hard after her little ramble, and my lips turn down. My older sister hasn’t had it easy since losing her husband Garrett in a DUI accident. That he caused. Yeah, not good, especially when he had allegedly been sober for over four years.
I think the unknown is what’s killing her. Like, why? What caused him to drink and then drive like a dumbass?
“Listen to me, sister,” I say, sitting up on the couch and leaning my elbows on my knees.
“No one, and I mean no one, could be the woman you are. You went to hell and back with Garrett. Now, you are raising two young boys who are going to be the best tribute to all your hard work and love. You work your ass off to make ends meet so you don’t have to depend on our parents or me, and just think, your kids are able to talk about their feelings to you because they trust you. Sister, that’s a win.”
She hiccups a sob. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. And fuck that bag boy—he’s just mad you won’t let him call you Mommy.”
That has her cackling. “Right? I’m a baddie!”
“Yes, queen!” I exclaim, but when I clap, I cringe at the noise due to my still-throbbing head. “You are doing great, Willa. I love you, and I only love awesome people.”
“Because you’re awesome.”
I smile. “Now go get some wine and take a bath. Maybe practice some self-care with an orgasm or three.”
She groans loudly. “I’m so tired of battery-operated orgasms. I just want a man to throw me around and eat me out.”
“Amen, sister.”
“Hush, you,” she snaps. “You have a hot doctor sniffing around.”
“Should I bend over for him?”
She lets out a loud snort. “You are so bad!”
I have always been very sex positive, even as a teen. I wrote the most unhinged Backstreet Boy fan fiction. Me and AJ, man… He took my virginity like eighteen times, and each time, I begged him to “move” once he was settled inside me.
I learned very quickly never to include that in my books.
Holy cringe, right?
Anyway, I was the one having safe-sex talks with my sisters. As much as I love love, I adore sex. It’s so intimate and fun.
“I should have been a prostitute.”
“Please, you’d fall for each John and then be sad when they didn’t want you past one night.”
“Yeah, sounds like me.”
She giggles. “I don’t know, but I feel good about Dr. Do-My-Body-Good.”
I grin. “I called him that—to his face.”
“And I bet you didn’t bat an eye at it.”
“Nope, but Mom yelled, and he turned beet red.”
My sister giggles manically. “He blushes?”
“Oh my God, Willa! It’s the cutest thing ever!”
Before she can say anything, my phone chimes. I pull it away from my face to see a text.
Unknown: This is Dr. Aldridge. I mean Dermot. Your doctor. The guy who gave you stitches today? You cuddled my dog?
“Oh my God. I am obsessed with him,” I coo before reading the text to Willa.
“I can’t even,” she purrs. “I bet he’s all shy in the streets, but in the sheets? Holy hell, Doctor, I need oxygen!”
“Oh my God, right? Wouldn’t that be a blast?”
“Lucky bitch,” she mutters, and I snort.
“Let me call you tomorrow. I need to focus.”
“Yeah, for sure. You’re good, though? I don’t need to come over?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine, and you’ve got the boys. No worries. I’ll call Mom if I get to feeling weird.”
She chortles. “Or ask the doctor if he makes house calls.”
That has us both cackling like hyenas. Once we calm down, we tell each other we love each other before hanging up. I cuddle into my pickle pillow that my nephew Adam won me at the Halloween festival and hold my phone out to text him back.
Me: How long did it take you to send me that text?
Dermot: A solid five minutes. I didn’t want to be like, hey, and not explain who I am.
Me: Understandable. You could have just said, Hey, it’s Dermot. And I would have known who it was.
Dermot: I didn’t know if that was true. You got hit really hard.
Me: I wouldn’t forget, but I don’t remember giving you my number.
I’m giggling as the bubbles appear and disappear.
Dermot: I may have looked it up in your chart, but it’s for a good reason.
Me: And what would that be?
Dermot: To check on you. How are you feeling?
Isn’t he a doll?
Me: Noises are a bit iffy, but I feel okay. Just achy.
Dermot: Have you been drinking water and taking it easy?
Me: Yes, Doctor.
Dermot: I’m pretty sure you typed that with sass.
Me: Who, me? Never.
Dermot: Sure. Is your mom over? I didn’t see her car in her spot.
Me: Nope, she went home about an hour ago.
Once more, the bubbles appear and disappear.
Dermot: Someone is there, right?
Me: …No?
Dermot: You have a serious concussion. You need someone to watch over you.
Me: Nooo, I’m fine. No one needs to worry about me.
Dermot: Well, I’m worried.
“Aw, how sweet,” I mutter to myself. No one has ever just outright told me they were worried. Except my family. I can’t remember if Jason ever thought of anything other than hockey. Or when I was getting on my knees for him.
Dermot: Can you call someone?
Me: Not really. I mean, I could ask my mom to come back, but once she takes out her contacts, it takes forever for her to do anything. My sister has her boys, and they’re already in bed. Sadie, my other local sister, is out of town. I promise I’m okay.
I wait for a solid five minutes as the bubbles appear and disappear, and I can’t help but laugh.
I wish I could see him. I bet he has his nose all scrunched together, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he types and deletes, trying to find what he wants to say.
When he was stitching me up, he had that look.
All focused and considerate, but I knew he was listening to me.
He asked me questions and made me feel like I was important.
All while taking really good care of me.
When my phone chimes, I look down to see his response.
Dermot: Can I come sit with you?
My heart kicks up, and a swooping feeling in my gut has me pressing my hand to my chest.
Me: You want to come sit with me?
Dermot: Yes.
Me: I’m sure you have something better to do.
Dermot: There is nothing I want more than to make sure you are okay.
Well, talk about kicking a girl in the chest. I gasp at his text and feel his words tingle all over my body.
Dermot: I’ll have to bring Kip. If that’s okay.
Now I’m the one texting and deleting, unsure what to say. My house is a mess, but if I’m honest, it’s always a mess, and… I want him to come over.
To watch over me.
Duh.
Me: Well, if Kip is coming, then it’s a hell yes.
Dermot: What was it when it was just me?
I bite my lip as the corners curve up.
Me: My answer would have been Please.