“You know I can’t just walk away.” Even if he’s right and me stepping in to save our other foster brother every time his drug use gets him in trouble is only making things worse, I can’t just abandon Eli.
“I know youshould, because next time you might not get away with only a fracture, some bruised ribs, and ten weeks on the injured reserve list.”
My jaw clenches. “Can we salvage the deal?”
Colin doesn’t answer right away, which tells me everything. My fist tightens, the pull of muscles tugging on my still-healing clavicle.
“No, Mav. We can’t. It’s done.”
“Fuck!” I shout, the word echoing in the concrete stairwell. I lift my fist to slam it into the wall, but pain shoots through my arm just from the motion of lifting it. EvenI’msmart enough to know punching a wall would be a bad fucking idea. Last thing I need is to add a broken hand to the mix.
“I gotta go,” I growl into the phone, ending the call with a jab of the button and shoving the device back in my pocket. I pace back and forth several more times, cursing under my breath. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me, in all parts of my fucked-up life. Losing an endorsement is the first domino falling down on my career. Next could be my fucking contract.
And if I lose baseball…
There’s a chair on the landing with a piece of paper taped to it stating it’s there for cardiac patients. I sag down onto it, my arms falling to my sides as I slump back. Thank fuck there’s no one around to witness my breakdown.
Of course, I should be so lucky. Because that’s when I hear it. The soft shuffle of feet. I look up one flight of stairs to the next landing, to see a woman clutching the railing, looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here.
Join the club, sweetheart.
I should care about what she may or may not have just seen or heard. Hell, for all I know, she recorded the whole damn thing and my outburst is about to go viral. Then again, taking a longer look at her, she doesn’t look like the gossip-spreading type. Her shockingly bright red hair is pulled back from her face in a bun, glasses perched on her nose. She’s short, but holy hell, she’s got a body I’d like to sink my hands into. Even if her outfit is more appropriate for a woman three times her age and I can’t see an inch of skin, aside from the long column of her neck, her face, and small hands that are now fluttering nervously in front of her.
I’m momentarily distracted from my rage by envisioning pulling her hair down from the bun and letting it cascade over my hands. I wonder how pink her cheeks would get if I did…
Jesus.
But fast on the heels of lust comes something wholly unexpected from me. The sudden urge to reassure her, that I’m not gonna hurt her. Because that’s the energy she’s giving off. Nerves, bordering on fear. And I fucking hate that it’s because of me and my temper.
Her lips part, she clears her throat, and I watch her straighten her spine as she slowly walks down the stairs toward me. “Sorry to disturb you.” She speaks so softly I almost miss the musical lilt to her voice.
But I definitely don’t miss the way she skirts around me, leaving as much space between us as she possibly can when she pulls open the door and slips through, leaving me alone in my fucking misery again.
Nothing new there, but why do I wish she hadn’t left before I had a chance to apologize for my behaviour?
Chapter two
Sadie
When I was coming down the stairs and heard that angry voice, I stopped in my tracks, uncertain what I would find. It’s not exactly uncommon for parents or other visitors to the Vancouver Children’s Hospital to be in the stairwells taking phone calls, and with the stress they’re often under, high emotions are to be expected.
But as soon as I laid eyes on the man, something in me knew this was different. I hate to admit, I judged a book by its cover, especially when it’s something I have been subjected to myself. But I did. He was young; in his late twenties, same as me if I had to guess. Every inch of his muscular arms not covered by a tight-fitting T-shirt was covered in tattoos. Dirty blond hair curled out from under a black ball cap, and even with the space between us I could see the crystal blue of his eyes.
Back in my office, away from him, I rationalized it was still possible he was here with a patient, but something about his energy told me he wasn’t. Which begged the question of why he’s here, in a hospital stairwell, yelling into his phone. When Isaw him lift his arm as if he was going to hit something, I almost turned around to go find security.
Then I watched him slump into a chair, obviously unaware that I was watching. The raw vulnerability of that moment, the anguish and despair on his face as he closed his eyes, made my heart hurt for him.
Honestly, the roller coaster of emotions I witnessed in those few minutes was the most interesting thing to happen to me in a long time. Something about him was captivating, exciting in an illicit way.
Which is why, for the last three hours, I’ve had to stop myself from thinking of him. He’s a distraction I don’t need pulling me from the mountain of work waiting. With the hospital foundation’s main gala happening in just over a month, my job as the head of fundraising for the foundation is demanding, to say the least.
And right now, getting through the rest of my to-do list is taking a lot of mental fortitude. Even the mundane tasks that I can usually do while listening to an audiobook require my full attention to stop my mind from wandering. Which is odd since I’m not normally the kind of woman to drool over tight T-shirts and baseball hats.
I scribble my signature again, ignoring the cramp in my hand as I sign off on another purchase order for the event, sliding the paper into my outgoing mailbox for the foundation’s admin assistant to pick up later. There’s so much to do for the upcoming gala, I really don’t have time to be thinking about tattooed men in stairwells, even if they are mouthwateringly hot.
And that! It’s the other thing that has me confused and distracted. Since when am I attracted to messy hair and scowls? He’s nothing like any of the men I’ve dated before, and the complete opposite of my ex, Dirk.
My head falls forward with a groan. I had to go and think ofhim.For two months now, my life has been in shambles because of him. Well, him and his wandering dick. Walking in on him having sex with his paralegal was the start of a downward mental spiral I haven’t been able to stop. Maybe if he’d just admitted to cheating and left me alone, I could move on. But no, he has to dig the knife even deeper by trying to make it seem like it was my fault.
