Chapter Five
April
I should’ve felt better after I left the hospital.
The visit with Jacob had gone well, his cough had settled, and he had more color in his face.
The doctors had started him on a new antibiotic, and it looked as if it was working.
It was good news, and it did lift the load.
Slightly. As I sat in my car and figured out what to do next, I could admit to myself that my spirits were not lifted by the visit.
My stomach churned with acid as the gears in my head also churned thinking about what I was going to do if he needed a transplant.
Nearly five hundred thousand dollars for a new set of lungs.
It was the worst-case scenario. But I’d read all the literature about CF and knew for some patients it was the only option. We had to be prepared for that.
I’ve never seen that much money at once and the way my life was going, I never would.
I started my car and headed home, ignoring a call from Kelsie because I couldn’t talk about anything.
Not now. Even the idea of going home where it was quiet and where I would only think and overthink this current problem until I was an even bigger bundle of anxiety and sadness than I already was.
Inside the house it was too quiet, and I knew I needed to be outdoors, to let the sun and the air kiss my skin and work to lift my spirits even if it was just by an inch.
I headed around the back to the small storage shed that was still filled with things our father left behind when he abandoned us—along with most of his worldly possessions—in the wake of our mom’s death.
Inside I found what he used to call a therapy kit, which consisted of a fifteen gallon cooler filled with empty cans and jars full of colored liquid.
I knew there were two boxes of bullets in there somewhere too, so I grabbed his revolver and loaded it all into the trunk and headed to the one spot in this state where it didn’t hurt to think about my daddy.
The old Rutherford Mansion was still gorgeous even though it was rundown.
The story was that some rich dude bought the place in the nineties, made some bad investments, and lost everything.
Fucking idiot. It was always the people with money who squandered it so easily, rarely the ones in need.
That was a depressing thought as I entered from the south side of the property, I smiled as the sun began to sink below the horizon.
It lit the lake and the house beyond it in a golden glow that made it look like a moment frozen in time.
I stopped about ten feet before the lake and looked around.
This was the same spot where my daddy used to take me whenever I had a bad day or got a C on a test. He would take me here and encourage me to shoot my troubles away with his lazy smile and slow southern drawl.
“But you’re not here anymore, are you daddy? ”
He wasn’t and as I set up the cans first, and stomped back to my spot where I loaded the revolver he named Michelle Pfeiffer because the barrel was long and lean and had killer eyes, I let my anger rise to the surface. I aimed and took my first shot, only clipping the first can.
“Dammit!” I took aim and sent the can flying over the tall wooden shelf.
I lined up shot after shot, shooting at the fucked up healthcare system that would let my brother die for not being rich.
I shot at the genetic mutation that skipped me and made my big brother chronically ill.
I shot away the anger and betrayal I felt over our father’s abandonment, over him making Jacob my sole responsibility.
My boss for threatening me every fucking time I had to leave early or take a day off for Jacob’s tests and treatments.
I shot at the unfairness of it all. I reloaded and kept shooting and shooting, waiting for that elusive better feeling to sink into my skin and let me relax. Let me experience a moment of peace.
Tears blurred my vision, but I kept shooting until all the cans and jars were nothing more than a shattered mess at the edge of the lake.
“Fuck!” I stopped and wiped my eyes with the back of my hands.
“This did not help,” I growled to myself and gasped when I caught sight of a flash of movement off to one side.
I used the inside of my t-shirt to clear my tears completely and raised my gun.
“Stay back,” I shouted. “I’m armed and I’m not afraid to shoot!
” My shaky hand called me a liar but the figure that I now saw was a man didn’t need to know that.
“You shot at me,” the deeply masculine, slightly accented voice called back. “Lower your weapon.”
“I don’t know you.” And I was done making bad decisions.
He laughed and the sound was far too appealing.
“And I don’t know you, yet I didn’t shoot you immediately even though you are on my property discharging your weapon recklessly.
” He kept his gun trained on me as well.
“It’s not too late to make that happen.” His hand, I noticed, didn’t tremble at all.
I lowered my gun, happy I didn’t have to shoot since the revolver was empty. “Ugh, whatever. And I wasn’t shooting at you.” I kept my finger on the trigger just to keep him at a distance. “You can go away now, I’m no threat to you.”
Like every other man I’d ever met, he didn’t listen. Rather than retreating, he advanced in my direction.
“Hey, are you okay?” he called out.
“Stay where you are,” I said but the effect was ruined by my shaky voice. “Stay,” I tried again and raised the gun.
He came even closer, and I took a step back, stumbled and righted myself.
“Careful,” he said. He stopped, his hands on his hips and I took a long moment to take in the sight of him.
He was tall, over six feet with broad shoulders and what looked to be powerful thighs under his expensive looking suit.
He had dark brown hair that he wore slicked back like he was one of those powerful corporate types.
His clear blue eyes looked otherworldly against his slightly tanned skin.
He wasn’t just good-looking, he was gorgeous.
“I’m always careful,” I shot back with a hint of attitude.
“Yeah, it’s very careful to shoot into an open area.”
I folded my arms. “I thought I was alone.” I turned my face to the sky and shouted silently. I couldn’t even get alone time out here in the middle of an abandoned mansion. Thanks a lot universe. “You can go back to whatever it was you were doing before you interrupted me.”
His brows knitted in concern, “I will but are you sure you’re okay.”
“I said I was fine.”
His nostrils flared, “I’m trying to be nice, lady.”
“Nice,” I snorted. “Do nice guys run around strapped these days?”
He arched a brow and dammit it made him even more handsome. Don’t get distracted by a pretty face, April. You don’t know this guy.
“Maybe they do. I’m not a member of any nice guy organizations so I can’t say with certainty.”
“Funny.” I took a step back and pointed my finger at him. “Don’t try anything funny.”
A slow smile split his face and if I thought he was gorgeous when he scowled, the man was utter perfection when he smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I refused to be distracted by a man who carried a gun. “What are you doing out here?” In all the years I came out here I never saw another soul.
“Thinking. I own this property now. You?”
I shrugged. “Same.”
He took another step forward and then another. “What are you thinking about?”
Seriously? Since when do men ask so many questions, especially the dreaded what are you thinking? “You don’t have to ask that.”
His smile slipped. “I don’t do anything that I don’t want to do.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Look, I appreciate you trying to be a good guy, it’s actually refreshing, but you don’t really care.”
“I also don’t like people telling me how I feel.” He was serious and there was a hint of something dark and dangerous inside those cold blue eyes. “You can tell me. We are strangers and I’m told that makes things like this easier.”
I sucked in a deep breath and debated with myself on whether or not I should dump years’ worth of crap on this complete stranger—armed stranger—simply because he’s being nice and stubborn.
Or if I should brush him off. By the time I exhaled, a long river of words rode that breath out.
“Everything is wrong. My brother’s sick, he has cystic fibrosis and it’s only getting worse by the day and now they tell me that he might need a lung transplant which might as well cost a billion dollars for as much as it costs and I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.
I could sell our family home, but I don’t want to do that because well, I just don’t and it sucks and my brother is in the hospital now and he’s trying to put on a brave face for me, which I appreciate but it only highlights that even he knows how shit this situation is.
” I was breathless when I finished, and I realized what I’d done.
His handsome face was filled with shock.
“Bet you wished you’d never asked now.”
Could this day get any worse, or weirder?