Page 55 of Do It With Me

CHAPTER 24

HOLDEN

I’d always been the kind of guy who couldn’t just sit on my hands and do nothing when something was broken. If there was a problem, I wanted to fix it. That was just how I was wired. My whole life had been about solving problems.

If properties were run down, I bought them. Fixed them up. I didn’t just bring them back to their former glory, I breathed new life into the entire neighborhood. When the company’s books had been lined with too much red, I’d thrown everything I had into turning every red into black and it’d worked, big time. If someone was slowing things down, I fired them and brought in a whole team to get us back on track.

It wasn’t arrogance. It was just what I did. I hadn’t been born to be a spectator or a guy who watched and waited for other people to get shit done.

I couldn’t stand that approach, but now, I’d met this incredible woman whose life was tangled in something I couldn’t fix. After she drove off, I stood on the sidewalk for a long time, watching her taillights disappear and feeling that useless ache growing in my chest.

It felt like that hug had rewired something in me, something I couldn’t just leave here, but there wasn’t a damn thing about this I could fix. I wanted to make things better for her. Hell, for her mom too, but I didn’t even know where to start.

By the time I got home, I was determined to do something. I didn’t know what, or how, or for whom, but suddenly, every window that formed part of the city skyline outside was a reminder of all the people I could potentially help if I just tried.

I poured myself a scotch, sat down at my desk, and opened my laptop. At first, I just typed dementia help into the search bar, starting to educate myself about a condition I was embarrassingly uneducated about, but it wasn’t long before I fell down the rabbit hole.

For the next couple hours, I read about research programs, care networks, overwhelmed families, and how absurdly underfunded most of them were. Half the night slipped by as I clicked through medical websites and charity pages.

Early-onset dementia. Alzheimer’s support groups. Caregiver burnout. The numbers were staggering. The stories were worse. Pretty soon, I wasn’t just reading anymore. I was getting angry. It pissed me off that people like Ellora had to fight these uphill battles alone and that the world could look away so easily.

By my second drink, I drafted an email to Jimmy.

Me: Come by my office in the morning. First thing.

Without even thinking about it, I hit send. I didn’t have a full plan yet, but I could feel it forming in the back of my mind. Jimmy would help me flesh it out. Every time I blinked, I saw Ellora like she had been that first night, appearing in the doorway of my classroom with those tired eyes, the rumpled shirt, and the attitude like there was a fire inside her but it was struggling to get the air it needed.

I thought about her brave smile earlier tonight and the way she’d said she just wanted to keep her mom safe. It killed me that she’d been going through this all alone and I wanted to do some good. Something Ellora could be proud of.

Yeah. I can’t fix her mom, but maybe I can make the world a little less cruel for people like her. It was a big maybe, but that had never stopped me before and I wouldn’t let it slow me down now.

Jimmy rolled into my office the next morning looking like he’d been personally wronged by sunlight. He grimaced as soon as he saw me. “You’re disturbingly chipper for a guy who was still sending emails at one a.m.”

“I’ve had worse hangovers,” I told him, though truthfully I didn’t have one at all. I was too energized.

After dropping into a chair, he squinted at me and shook his head. “Okay, talk. What are you so jazzed up about? I can’t remember the last time I got the first thing summons from you. God, my assistant isn’t even here yet.”

“God forbid you have to make your own coffee,” I said dryly. “Do you need me to order one up for you? The staff at the coffee shop downstairs start work at six and you don’t see them complaining about it.”

“Fuck you, and yes please.” He leaned back and folded his hands on his stomach, curiosity in his dark eyes as they held mine. “For the record, I’m not complaining, but I am worried. Why are we here so early? Is there a problem with the Renewal Initiative?”

“No. That’s progressing just fine as far as I know.” I leaned forward with my elbows on the desk. “Let’s start something new.”

“Something new?” he echoed, eyebrows climbing high on his forehead. “We’re still putting out at least six fires a day on the last something new you came up with. The entire city block we’re rejuvenating. Are you forgetting about that? What’s it going to be this time? A mega-city? A mall?”

“A charity,” I replied simply. “For dementia. I’d like to do something for families who can’t afford long-term care and need support at home. Real, on-the-ground help.”

Jimmy blinked a few times, clearly taken aback. “You’re talking about, like, an actual charity? Not a write a check and slap your name on a building kind of thing?”

“Nope, not that. Not this time. I want something real. Something that matters.”

“The Renewal Initiative matters,” he said slowly. “You cannot be serious about starting something else, something like this no less, while we’re still getting that off the ground.”

“I’m absolutely, completely serious.” I looked him dead in the eye. “I want to start a foundation that does more than just write checks. An organization that sponsors experienced caregivers for families dealing with dementia. We should probably look into training for those caregivers as well. Maybe get in touch with a college or whoever teaches these people what to do.”

His eyes widened, but I wasn’t done yet. “The organization would also help families who are struggling to keep their heads above water with home care expenses and covering doctor’s visits. Oh, and let’s fund some research too. The whole nine yards.”

Jimmy leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows somehow climbing higher with every word I said. “Jesus, Holden. That’s actually kind of beautiful, but where’s this coming from? You’ve never even mentioned dementia before. Last week, you wanted to build another luxury high-rise. The same architects we worked with on the Initiative are already in the process of designing it.”