Wreck You Page 4

  “Sounds good to me.” I shrugged. “I’ll take a shot of Captain.”

  Brent’s eyes widened and a goofy ass, lopsided grin sprang onto his face. “No beer? Are you feeling all right?”

  My fingers drummed against the bar. If he questioned me any more, I might give in and order a damn beer like every other time I’d come in here the last few years. My eyes locked with Phil’s, the bartender. Maybe now he’d stop flirting with the bimbo in the tube top who could barely stand and take my order.

  “Yeah, fine. I’m just breaking out of the box a little.” I grinned.

  Phil migrated to where we sat. He was tall with slicked-back hair and a plain white T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked like he was from a fifties movie, but the look suited him well.

  “What can I get ya?” he asked with a nod of his head.

  “Two shots of Captain,” Brent said, slipping a ten across the counter.

  Phil poured us each one and pushed them in front of us. My resolve was wearing thin. The reminder that I had to work in the morning was pounding through my head in sync with my heart. Damn, when did I become this anxiety-ridden person? Maybe I needed to cut loose more than I thought.

  “To breaking out of the box,” Brent toasted.

  I raised my shot glass and pounded the golden liquid back without second-guessing myself again. The familiar burn coated my throat, and I relished in the sensation. A shit-eating grin spread across my face, one I couldn’t dim or control. I’d done two things out of the box tonight. I was proud. The alcohol warmed me from the inside as it made its way down my throat and pooled in my stomach.

  “Now, for your next out of the box thing of the night—pick a girl and get laid,” Brent insisted. He crossed his arms and leaned against his elbows on the bar top, staring at me. There was a devilish glint shining in his eyes that made me wonder if he’d only said the words to see how far he could push this thing—how far I would go with it.

  Spinning around on my stool, I kicked one leg out and bounced my other on the bar beneath the stool. Crossing my arms, I glanced out at the people packed inside Blue’s. There were small clusters of females dancing in the middle of the makeshift floor positioned directly in front of the jukebox. A few were spread around at tables and occupying seats at the bar. Some were clearly taken, pressed as close as they could possibly get to their boyfriend’s side, while others were hanging all over someone, wishing they were taken. While scoping the place out, my eyes locked with a set of the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen.

  “Her,” I muttered, never taking my eyes from her.

  She was sitting at a table with a few other girls. With just one look at her, I knew she fit the bill for what Brent had just said. She was the type you knew was here for only one reason—to get drunk and screw. She screamed sex kitten from her big eyes rimmed in a smoky gray shadow to the skintight shirt she wore that showed off her ample cleavage.

  “Which one? The blonde with the short-cropped hair?” Brent asked, trying to pinpoint who I’d spotted.

  “No, the one beside her. The redhead.” I turned back around and motioned to the bartender for another shot. Brent seconded my motion and assumed I’d pay for this round. Since he’d covered the last, I did.

  “Down that sucker and go get her.” He grinned like a Cheshire cat.

  Picking up the little glass, I pressed it to my lips and was about to down it like he’d suggested—to gain a little more courage for what I was about to do—but my cell phone rang. Setting my glass down, I pulled it from my pocket and glanced at the screen. It was my mom’s cell number. Coldness slipped through my stomach and nearly choked me. Something was wrong. I could feel it.

  “Hello?” I answered, even though I knew who it was already.

  “Ian, oh my God, Ian…” was all she said. The panic in her voice made the room around me spin. My heart raced as my fear was confirmed. Something had happened. Something was wrong.

  “What’s wrong, Mom? Are you okay? Is Dad all right?” My words were frantic. I bolted from my stool, leaving my shot on the bar, and darted toward the door, ready to hop in my truck and drive to her right now.

  “No. I’m in the emergency room. I think he’s having a heart attack.” Her voice dropped off, and it was replaced by gut-wrenching sobs.

  I fought hard to make my voice sound calm and even.

  “I’m heading to you right now. I’ll be there in ten.”

  “Okay,” she sobbed.

  “What the hell is going on?” Brent asked. I didn’t realize he’d followed me outside. “Everything all right?”

  “My dad’s in the emergency room. Mom thinks he’s having a heart attack.”

  “Oh shit. Well, what do you need me to do?”

  “Nothing.” I shook my head and dug my keys out of my pocket. “I’m headed there now. I’ll text you or something later and let you know what happens.”

  “All right.” He ran a hand through his hair and dropped his eyes to the ground. “Damn, that’s crazy. I’m so sorry, man.”

  “Thanks.” I hopped in my truck and backed out of my parking space as quickly as I could.

  Barreling down the street, my mind raced with all the what-ifs. What if he has to have some sort of massive surgery? What if there’s major blockage to his heart? What if he dies?

  By the time I pulled into Coldcreek Medical Center, I was nearly sick with worry. Whipping my truck into the first available parking spot I could find, I cut the engine and dashed toward the automatic door. I made my way to the woman dressed in yellow scrubs sitting behind the little window directly in front of the door.

  “I’m Ian Mason. My mom brought my dad in for a possible heart attack?” The words fumbling from my mouth felt surreal.

  “Just a second,” she said. Her fingers flew along the computer keys. “Harold Mason?”

  I swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “If you’ll wait right here, I’ll see if I can have someone take you back. Okay?” She smiled and nodded her head.

  “All right.” I took a step back and crammed my hands into my front pockets to wait.

  It seemed like forever before a woman came though the tinted automatic doors to retrieve me. She was dressed in cartoon character scrubs and held a clipboard in her right hand.

  “Hey, are you the Masons’ son?” she asked with a sympathetic smile.

  I nodded and stepped forward. “Yeah.”

  “Come with me. I’ll take you to your parents.”

  I followed her through the door and into the actual emergency room. My heart raced against my ribcage as adrenaline crashed through me at a nauseating pace. The second I spotted my mom’s tiny, broken frame, I nearly lost it. She was pacing in front of a solid wooden door, chewing on her fingernails and staring at her feet. Her face was puffy and splotchy from crying.

  “Mrs. Mason, your son’s here,” the nurse leading me through said in a soft voice.

  My mother’s eyes locked on mine, and she was in front of me in an instant. “Ian! Oh my God!”

  As I wrapped my arms around her, I felt her entire body shake and tremble against me. There were so many questions forming in my mind to ask, but none of them found their way to my lips.

  “It’s going to be okay, Mom. Everything is going to be fine,” I said instead.

  Why those words were the ones that decided to come out, I couldn’t be sure, but I did know that I needed to hear them as much as she probably did.

  “The doctor is in there with him right now,” she muttered against my shoulder. “I don’t know what happened. He said he hadn’t been feeling good all day and…” Her body was wracked with sobs again. They were the uncontrollable kind. The kind that only hit you when something absolutely horrible and unthinkable happens. “Ian, what if he doesn’t pull through this all right?”

  Hugging her tighter, I prayed to God my dad would survive this. If he didn’t, I wasn’t sure how the rest of us would either. This was the sort of heartache that could w
reck a family.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LAUREN

  I woke early the next morning on my couch, tangled in a fuzzy throw blanket. Jimmy was nowhere to be seen—as usual—and I had a killer wine migraine going on from drinking too much the night before. I lay there for a while with my arm over my eyes, scolding myself for consuming so much wine. There was too much to do today to feel this crappy.

  Slipping off the couch, I headed toward the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cabinet beside the sink. I opened the fridge and searched for the carton of orange juice I’d bought last week. Orange juice could cure any hangover known to man. While I’d met some who didn’t believe in its restorative properties, it was still my go-to morning-after drink because I believed in it.

  While sipping the tanginess, I grabbed my cell and made a list of the crap I needed to get done today. After straining my brain to think of things, I headed to my room to grab some clothes for a shower. Opening the door was like walking into a basement with mold issues that hadn’t been aired out in years. It hadn’t been a full forty-eight hours since the stupid water heater had woken me in my sleep, but everything in my room was doomed because it was beginning to grow mildew from the dampness. I crossed the room and opened the window, praying the fresh air would help keep my things from being marinated in the musky stench. I checked the time on my alarm clock beside my bed. There was nearly two hours before I needed to be to work. I nabbed some clothes from my dresser, deciding I had plenty of time to take a quick shower, and then I would pull stuff from my room before it was completely ruined.

  After my shower, I pulled all my dresser drawers out, and stacked them in the corner of my living room. Next, I went after the clothes in my closet, and draped them across my small dining room table and across my couch. The desire to call in today festered inside of me. I wanted to be here when the workers came, so I could make sure none of my crap got stolen, but there was no way I would be able to afford to take off more than I already was for my upcoming trip.

  My stomach grumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. Grabbing a honey wheat Bagel Thin from the fridge, I popped it into the toaster and started Googling on my cell how to obtain a passport. My heart sank when I read the estimated time was ten weeks. Once I scrolled down a little farther, I spotted directions for expedited services and nearly jumped for joy. Emailing the page to myself, I tapped on my OB/GYN’s office number to knock ordering more birth control pills off my list too.

  “Norhurst OB/GYN Associates, this is Tamara,” a bubbly voice answered the phone.

  “Hi, this is Lauren Myers. I’m calling to see if Dr. Ledford can call me in a refill on my birth control pills?” I took a bite of my bagel, and listened to the clicking of her fingers flying over the computer keyboard.

  “What’s your date of birth?” she asked.

  “Seven, eighteen, ninety-one.”

  “Okay, well, it looks like you’re actually due for a yearly pap. Before we can issue a refill, you need to have that done. What day is best for you?”

  My heart dropped to my stomach. I hated those appointments. I always walked away feeling unbelievably violated.

  “Umm.” Pursing my lips together, I thought for a minute. “Anytime you have available, I guess.”

  “How about Monday the tenth at nine thirty?”

  “Sure.”

  “All right, Lauren. I’ve got you down.”

  “Thank you.” I tapped end and set my phone on the counter.

  Great. Now I was going to have to miss more time at work anyway.

  * * * *

  “How’s the apartment issue?” Paige asked as I dropped my purse off behind the little desk we had the cash register on.

  “I had to move my clothes out of my room and open the window this morning. The entire space is becoming mildew heaven.”

  “Gross. Is your landlord going to do something any time soon?”

  I sighed. “She’s supposed to be sending some guy from the insurance company to look at it today. I’m praying he says it doesn’t need too much work.”

  “That’s crazy. I still can’t believe it happened.” Paige shook her head. Her cell went off and she rushed to retrieve it.

  I arched an eyebrow and grinned. “Dang, expecting some important phone call or something?”

  “No, only a text. Cameron is supposed to be stopping by at some point. He painted this amazing piece I want to hang over there.” She pointed to the bare wall at my left.

  “Awesome.” I nodded.

  Cameron was a talented artist, but he wasn’t the type to brag about it. Paige had been the one to tell him he needed to stop hiding his gift and be proud of it. Since then, he’d painted three masterpieces for her to decorate the shop with. Each of them was stunning in its own way.

  “Oh, I almost forget to tell you, I need to come in a little late on Monday. I’ve got my yearly check-up happening,” I said, laying on the dread thick.

  “Fun,” Paige muttered sarcastically. “No problem.”

  Her cell went off again. “You want anything from Enticing Aroma? Cameron is stopping there first.”

  “Sure, I’ll take a French vanilla cappuccino.”

  Twenty minutes later, Cameron walked into the shop, carrying a drink tray with three coffees and a little bag of something in his other hand.

  “Morning, ladies.” He smiled and walked to Paige’s side. After pressing a soft kiss to her temple, he handed her the coffee she’d asked for. “Here you go, sexy.”

  She took it from him and beamed. “Thanks.”

  God, they were cute together. Between them, and Jason and Blaire, I was starting to feel like the odd ball out. My relationship with Jimmy wasn’t anything serious—we both knew that—but I was hoping this trip would put us in that category…minus the engagement talk Blaire had insisted was coming. I was nowhere near ready for that, but having a relationship that was stable wasn’t something I opposed to.

  “And where’s mine, lover boy?” I cocked my hip to the side and glared at the two of them.

  “Right here.” Cameron grinned.

  I took my coffee from him and peeled the little to-go lid back. “So, where’s this new masterpiece at?”

  Cameron set his coffee down on the desk, and opened the bag he’d brought in with him. The scent of blueberries wafted to my nose, making my mouth water. Damn, I wanted a muffin too.

  “It’s in the car. I’ll bring it in as soon as I’m done with this goodness. I can’t believe all you ladies wanted was some freaking coffee. I’ve gotten hooked on these muffins. I swear they must mix in crack or something to keep me coming back for more.” He grinned before taking a large bite. The entire muffin was gone in two solid bites.

  “Oh my God, did you even breathe while eating that?” I muttered.

  “Hardly.” He flashed a devious grin my way, and then draped his arm over Paige’s shoulders. “Are you coming over tonight still?”

  “Yeah. After I close up here, I’ll be by.” Paige locked eyes with him, and I felt as though I should let them have a moment. “What’s on the menu for this dinner you’re planning?”

  “You,” Cameron said in a low voice.

  Yeah, it was time for me to make an exit. Gripping my coffee, I darted to the back room to scroll through Facebook on my phone while sitting on tubs of clothes.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  IAN

  Rolling the chair at my father’s desk out¸ I gripped the armrests and steadied my breathing. I knew I’d insisted that I could handle everything at the shop while he rested up, but now that I was here, I didn’t even know where to start.

  Last night had been one of the worst of my life. I’d stayed at the hospital practically the entire time consoling my mother and sisters as best I could. Aubrey had been better at accepting the news than Cassie. I contributed this to the age difference as well as the simple fact that Aubrey had Carl, her husband, to help coax her through everything and get her to relax on the ride from their
house to the hospital. Cassie, on the other hand, had been a nervous wreck upon arrival, and I’d wondered how she’d managed to drive after my phone call at all.

  After extensive testing, the doctors had determined my father had indeed suffered from a heart attack. Apparently, there had been some sort of plaque buildup in his arteries. He would be in the hospital for the next four days while they monitored his heart rhythm and performed various blood tests. He’d been told there were serious lifestyle changes he would have to make, which, I knew, meant I’d be running the shop on my own for a while.

  My eyes skimmed the mess of a desk that was my father’s until landing on the phone. I figured the first thing to do was call all the employees and let them know what had happened. I’d already sent Brent a text late last night, after I’d found out something concrete. He knew to head straight to the office this morning, but the others knew nothing. Picking up the phone, I flipped through the address book on the desk and found Sean’s number. Thank goodness there were only four employees besides Brent and me, because as it was, those four phone calls felt like too many.

  After filling in each guy about my father’s current health state, and figuring out which jobs they were on and the status of them, I realized there wasn’t much for me to delegate. These guys knew exactly what they were doing at each place, and two of the jobs would take at least a week to finish, so they’d be busy enough.

  “Mornin’. Everything still all right?” Brent asked as he stepped through the shop door.

  “Yeah, they moved him to the progressive care unit last night. I think he’ll get moved to a regular room sometime later today or tomorrow. They’re just doing tests and stuff right now to be on the safe side.” I tapped the eraser end of the pencil I’d been holding against the desk.

  “How’s your mom holding up?”

  I met his stare. “How do you think? She’s a wreck.”

  Brent held up his hands in front of him. “Just asking.”