Page 13 of Run to Me

When she opens her eyes, her unfocused gaze drifts in my general direction but doesn’t fix on me. My level of concern rises even more. Something worse than the seasonal cold she claims to be battling is at play here.

“Vera, do you need help?” I ask.

Pursing her lips, she summons the courage to relinquish her stubborn pride, then nods once. God, she’s just like Maisy.

“What can I do? Do you need an ambulance?”

“I can’t lift my legs. And I—” A whimper escapes her as embarrassment pinches every corner of her tired face. “I wet myself.”

Fuck. I’m not equipped to handle this situation, but I’ll find a solution. I always do. “I can call an ambulance for you, or I can call Lucy Harrison, Rock’s wife. She’s a nurse.”

“No ambulance,” she says, closing her eyes again. An ambulance means contacting emergency dispatch, and her coworkers and boss will learn about whatever’s going on here.

“I’m calling Lucy then,” I say, sliding the cell phone from my back pocket.

Twenty minutes later, Lucy knocks on the door with her infant daughter, Marcella, in tow. I explained the situation over the phone, and between ending the call and her arrival, Vera managed to sit up with my help. Both of us were careful not to shift the blanket covering the source of her shame.

“Thanks for coming,” I tell Lucy as she peers around the inside of Vera’s tidy house.

Outdated furnishings decorate the space, similar to my parents’ house where I live. The difference between our homes is that mine shows evidence of my parents’ life and love. Vera’s home reminds me of a cold mausoleum, devoid of love’s warm remembrance.

“Is she in any pain?” Lucy whispers. Her family moved from Mexico to Texas when she was young, and her voice carries a faint accent.

“Doesn’t seem to be, but she’s not saying much.”

Her dark brown gaze holds mine for a beat before she nods, understanding she’s about to face a patient with wounded pride. She hands Marcella to me and drops a diaper bag to the floor. I take Lucy’s coat with my free hand while her daughter tugs at my beard.

Gathering her black hair into a low ponytail, Lucy enters the living room in nurse mode. “Hey, Miss Vera. I’m Lucy. Let’s get you freshened up.”

With Marcella settled on a padded mat with toys, Lucy and I help Vera into the bathroom and get to work. She tends to Vera’s needs in private, and I load the soiled linens and clothes into the washer. I send Javi a quick text message asking if he can stay at Bruno’s until I return. Thankfully, he can.

An hour passes, and I’m relaxing in a burgundy armchair with the auburn-haired Marcella asleep on my chest when someone pounds on the front door. I check my watch, noting the school day has ended. With football season over, I know who’s on the porch.

Rock’s nostrils flare when I open the door with his daughter in my arms. “Where’s my wife?”

Because he’s never been a fan of my friendship with Lucy, I seize this opportunity to goad him. “In the bedroom, getting cleaned up.”

His head turns a dangerous shade of red, more pronounced atop the solid white Walford Bulldogs tracksuit he’s wearing. The man has trouble finding clothes to fit his huge thighs, so he defaults to athletic wear.

Rock lived with me after he graduated from college and until he married Lucy, which is how she and I became friends. They’re opposites in every way imaginable. She’s a petite sweetheart with compassion and a ready smile. He’s a six-foot-five ginger giant with no personality, and the only things that put a smile on his freckled face are bloody mayhem and his family.

Smirking, I pass Marcella to her fuming father. Despite her being eight months old now, he tucks her into one long, muscled arm like a football and shoulder-checks me as he enters the house. I chuckle and close the door as Lucy wanders down the hallway, stopping to study the photos on the wall.

“This is Maisy’s house?” she asks. At my obvious confusion, she gestures at a photo and explains. “I met her at the festival, and Tatum showed me pictures of them together on tour.”

I forget Lucy and Tatum are getting to know each other now that Tatum’s home. It’s strange having all these different branches of my life intertwine.

“She grew up here,” I answer.

“She’s so beautiful.” Lucy’s expression is full of wonder.

I’m filled with the same wonder whenever I look at Maisy. Her beauty paints the soul with vibrant colors and shimmering light, impossible to ignore. Ever since she left me, my life’s been dull and colorless.

Because I can’t talk about her without emptiness overtaking me and ruining my mood, I stick to the matter at hand. “What’s the verdict with Vera?”

Lucy joins me in the living room where Rock posts up behind her like a sentinel guarding his queen. “I helped her to bed, so she’s comfortable for now.” She glances at Rock, who hasn’t taken his angry eyes off me. “Can you give us a minute alone, big guy? I’ll be right out.”

“No,” he says. The breadth of his vocabulary is narrower than mine.