April Embers_A Second Chance Single Daddy Firefighter Romance Page 37

  “I’m not leaving my son. That’s my boy!”

  “Mom, he’s going to be okay if you let the doctors do what they need to do.”

  “Hayden. Wake up for me, baby. Wake up!”

  “Mr. Lowell, I’ve got you scheduled on a 4:37 flight out of JFK International. Straight shot to your destination if the weather stays nice.”

  “Thanks, Alicia. I’m glad there’s someone in this company I can count on.”

  “Sir, if I may?” she asked.

  I slowly panned my gaze up from my phone and paused the email I was sending.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “I know it’s not my place, but you might want to check with the original contracting company we checked out.”

  “Why?” I asked. “What do you know?”

  “I don’t know anything. But I got an invoice a couple of hours ago from a contracting company that isn’t the one we originally looked at. I think I know what they’re doing.”

  “Talk to me then.”

  “I think they took our contract, then subcontracted out the work for cheaper than we’re paying them. Subleasing, but for companies,” she said.

  “Can I see that invoice?” I asked.

  “Sure thing.”

  I watched Alicia dig around in her paperwork as I furrowed my brow. In some ways, it was a smart business move. If the business could pull it off right. Take a contract, do none of the work, and still take a percentage of the top. It was lazy business, but it was cunning business.

  But it was screwing me over, and I wasn’t going to have it.

  My family’s hotel company had been operating for over one hundred years. Passed on to every son in the family for generations. I was bred for the damn job from the time I was young. Obtained my business degree from Cambridge and was thrown straight into the belly of the beast. My father gave me a month to learn the ropes, and if I couldn’t take it on then the business would be passed to my sister.

  Cara.

  The musician of the family.

  “Here it is,” Alicia said. “Take a look.”

  I took the piece of paper from her hand and began to scan it. A grin spread across my cheeks as I peered over the piece of paper. Alicia had gone back to typing on her computer. Probably clearing my schedule or fucking around with something that was way below what she had just proven herself to be worth. Her eyes were moving across the screen and her hands were typing a thousand miles a second.

  Trained as a secretary, but housing tremendous observational skills.

  “Miss Alicia.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Be ready for a promotion when I get back.”

  “Come again?” she asked.

  I folded up the piece of paper and put it in my pocket. I needed to get to the damn airport. I had two hours to get myself through security and onto a plane, and I still had to go by my car and get my suitcase. I kept it packed for every season so I was ready to go for moments like this.

  It was a trick my father had taught me before he died.

  “He’s going to need physical therapy, Mom. He needs a house he can do that in.”

  “He’s coming home with me and that’s final.”

  “You know he won’t go home with you. But I might be able to convince him to come with me.”

  “That’s my baby, Cara.”

  “And I’m his sister. He doesn’t need someone wiping his ass. He needs someone who will push him to get better.”

  I ripped my bag from my car in the garage and started for the street. I’d need to hail a cab in order to get to the airport. I wasn’t about to try and park my car and navigate all that fucking traffic. I was on a strict schedule to get everything back on track.

  I also needed to send an email to H.R. and tell them to open up a project manager position for Alicia.

  I pulled out my phone and began walking across the road. My bag was slung over my shoulder and my feet were carrying me as fast as I could. Blood was pumping through my veins and my adrenaline was in overdrive. I missed this part of the business. The part where I swooped in and saved the day. I started out as a project manager at the company, but the position had only been utilized for me to learn. Once my father died and I was promoted to the new CEO and owner of the company, the position closed.

  But we were in desperate need of one, and Alicia fit that job perfectly.

  My fingers were flying over the keyboard of my phone before I heard the screeching of tires. The screaming of women. I felt the bag at my side pop as my phone flew from my hands. One minute I was looking at my screen and the next I was looking at the sky.

  The sidewalk.

  The road.

  “Sir, are you okay?”

  “Oh my God! Someone call 9-1-1!”

  “Can you hear me? Can you see what’s around you?”

  “Stabilize his head. There we go. On three, turn him over. One, two-”

  There were lights. Flashing lights overhead. I couldn't move my left leg or my left arm and it hurt to breathe. It hurt to swallow. It hurt for my heart to beat. The smell of disinfectant was strong, but the darkness closing in on my vision was stronger than my wake to stay awake.

  “Hayden! No!”

  My mother’s voice was the last thing I heard before darkness overcame me.

  “Mom, we can’t keep arguing like this. He’s going to wake up any minute.”

  “Hush, Cara. He’s moving. Hayden. Oh, sweet boy. Momma’s here. Can you hear me? Hayden?”

  My left leg was hoisted into the air and my arm was casted and cradled at my side. I couldn’t open my eyes, no matter how much I wanted to. Machines were beeping at a rhythmic pace and footsteps were falling heavily onto the floor.

  “I saw him move. I swear it.”

  Mom. I kept hearing my mother’s voice.

  “I can vouch for that. He twitched his toes and cleared his throat.”

  Cara.

  Why was Cara in the Caribbean?

  I didn’t know where I was, but I needed to get up. I needed to put my clothes on and get to the project site. Alicia was right. The company we had hired subcontracted our work out and was skimming money off the top. Not illegal, but certainly not helping us. I needed to get in there and fix things before this project went completely under.

  And possibly the entire fucking family business.

  “Mr. Lowell, you need to open your eyes.”

  Who the fuck was that?

  “Mr. Lowell, can you hear me?”

  Yes, I can hear you. Your voice is annoying. What the fuck is going on? Shut the hell up. Get me out of this damn place.

  “Hayden, please open your eyes.”

  I’m fucking opening them, Cara!

  “If he isn’t conscious within the next few hours, we’ll run some tests. But it doesn't look good.”

  “Why isn’t he waking up?” my mother asked. “What are our options?”

  Damn it, I’m right fucking here!

  “I told you this third surgery was going to be too much on his body. If he doesn’t wake up, you can expect a malpractice lawsuit,” Cara said.

  Wait. Surgery? Why the hell was my sister talking about surgery? Where the fuck was I?

  “He needed the surgery. The first was to pin and plate his arm and leg and the second was to pin his ribs. But he started internally bleeding so we took him back in to chase it. Your brother would’ve bled out in the hospital bed had we not done anything.”

  “You mean to tell me you didn’t catch the bleed before you stitched him up the first time?” Cara asked. “What kind of hospital are you running, doctor?”

  “Cara, now isn’t the time to get upset,” my mother said.

  “Not get upset? My brother’s lying in a hospital bed unconscious after three back-to-back surgeries and no one knows why! We don’t know what will happen when he wakes up, we don’t know what kind of brain damage there might be, if any. We don’t know what happened during the car accident because the damn traffic cameras weren’t
hooked up, and I’m not supposed to be upset!?”

  Hospital? I was in a hospital? Wait a second, what accident?

  Oh shit. The car. My phone.

  Holy fuck. The Caribbean. I’m not in the Caribbean. Wake up, Hayden. Wake the fuck up! Your business needs you!

  I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I was aware of the world around me, but I still didn’t have the faintest clue as to what was going on. Well, I was slowly piecing things together when the world wasn’t black. Dark. Empty.

  I kept screaming for my leg to move. For my arm to move. For my eyes to open or my tongue to start working or my lips to part. Any sort of movement to prove to me that I had control. That I had the capability of controlling my body enough to get done what had to get done. Mom had no idea what was going on at work. I’d probably missed my flight. Three surgeries? What the hell?

  I needed to talk to the doctor.

  But it was like my will was disconnected from my physical form.

  “Oh, Hayden,” my mother said. “I’m begging you. Just open your eyes.”

  I’m trying, Mom. I swear to you, I’m trying.

  “I can’t lose you, too,” she said breathlessly.

  “We aren’t going to lose him,” Cara said. “Life isn’t that cruel.”

  Say that to the guy that can’t move, why don’t you?

  I felt my mother’s face fall to my arm. I could feel her tears running across my skin. I wanted to move my arm. To put it around her and reassure her that things were going to be okay. That I was okay. That I could hear her. That I wasn’t gone. Not like Dad had been taken from us. I wasn’t going to go out like that. With a car like it had happened to Dad.

  Come on. Just one fucking finger. That was all I was asking my body to do.

  “Please,” my mother said with a whisper. “Please don’t leave me, Hayden. I can’t bury you, too.”

  You won’t, Mom. I swear if it’s the last thing I make sure, you won’t have to bury me.

  Chapter Two

  Grace

  “Emilia, you got that arrangement almost done?”

  “The one with the lilies and the orchids? Yep. Almost done.”

  “Good. Because I’m going to have to take them over soon,” I said.

  “I thought they were being picked up? Aren’t they always picked up?”

  “Not today,” I said. “Today, I’m supposed to deliver them to a house.”

  “I guess that’s good news. Maybe?”

  “You never know. The arrangement could be for a funeral.”

  “You really have a morbid sense of humor, Grace.”

  “It’s amazing what florists tolerate and what people will spew in their moments of emotional weakness,” I said.

  For the past three weeks, a maid had been coming into our shop to pick up a flower arrangement every single day. And the order was always the same. Lilies and orchids with a splash of greenery. Always arranged the same, always large, and always picked up at eleven in the morning.

  But this time, a phone call told me they needed to be hand-delivered by that same time to a specific address.

  “Do you even know who’s supposed to receive them?” Emilia asked.

  “I’m assuming the woman who’s been picking them up will be at the house,” I said.

  “But you don’t know.”

  “Nope.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” she asked.

  “Emilia, I’ve delivered flowers before. I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

  “But you always know who’s receiving those flowers. You don’t today. It might be a trap.”

  “What are we, in some kind of spy movie? Emilia, are you some super-secret spy using your florist shop as a cover-up?” I asked.

  “It would be more exciting than the life I lead now.”

  “Girl, your significant other is a billionaire.”

  “True,” she laughed. “Speaking of, how’s your love life?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “You need to get out more, you never know when you’ll meet Prince Charming,” she said.

  “Maybe a handsome man will be receiving these flowers. He’ll open the door with his shirt off and sweat dripping down his body after working out. He’ll wipe the sweat off his forehead and grin at me, then reach out for my waist instead of the flowers.”

  “Bought a new romance novel, I see.”

  “And it’s great.”

  “What’s the plot line this time?”

  “Smut with a timeline,” I said with a grin.

  “I swear, behind those glasses of yours lies a nasty little freak waiting to be set free.”

  “Now I could’ve told you that.”

  “All right, got the flower arrangement done. What time is it?” she asked.

  “Fifteen ‘til. I gotta get out of here if I’m going to make the delivery on time. Which means you’ll have to take over the front counter. You good with that?”

  “Believe it or not, I know how to take an order and press buttons, reminder I do own the place,” she said.

  “Just making sure. Sometimes I don’t know if your fingers work properly anymore, you know since you took some time off.” Her billionaire boy toy had taken her around Europe for two months right after she hired me. I had gotten used to working on my own in the shop. Between that trip and all the weddings she handled, I was usually on my own.

  “It was one bad input.”

  “That made it look as if we’d made seven thousand dollars worth of profit in one day!”

  “I said I was sorry!”

  “Yeah, with a flower arrangement you made me make.”

  “It’s the thought that counts?”

  “I’ll be back in a little bit, Emilia.”

  Grabbing the flowers and the address, I started for my car. I made sure to set the arrangement in the stabilization canister in back, then I plugged the address into my phone. I was twelve minutes away, which meant I didn’t have a lot of time to account for red lights.

  I would have to be quick on the road if I wanted to make it on time.

  As I drove through the streets of the city, my mind began to wander. I had graduated from nursing school a month ago, but I was finding it hard to leave the flower shop. Emilia had given me a part-time job to give me some sanity through my schooling, and there were days during my rotations where the flower shop was my only reprieve. I could throw my creative energies that weren't being nurtured in school into growing our flowers and the arrangements and the decorating for wedding ceremonies. And even though I was now licensed to be a nurse, I wasn’t sure if it was what I wanted to do any longer.

  I still had a passion for helping people, but I was burned out on the hospital scene.

  My parents supported me in anything I wanted to do, but my mother was worried about my ability to take care of myself on the measly pay from the florist. And it wasn’t necessarily measly. I had a roof over my head and food to eat. But health insurance was hard to come by and my car wasn’t in the best of shape. My parents knew I’d make better money as a nurse, so they were slowly pushing me towards applying for those kinds of positions.

  But I didn’t want to leave the shop. Or Emilia, for that matter.

  My eyes came into focus with the thick fog of the city broke. Instead of passing homeless men urinating on the sidewalk and people running after their children down the street, I was rolling down a road with lush greenery on either side. Cars were floating by as if they weren’t quite touching the pavement and there was blocks of yard in between houses.

  Massive, humongous houses.

  Where in the world was I delivering these flowers?

  I looked at my GPS and realized my last turn was coming up on the right. I watched the thick foliage on the side of the road break into a rolling hill. I saw the turn in for a concrete driveway, but I didn't see a house.

  It wasn’t until I began to drive back across the hill that a house emerged.

  Rising f
rom the beauty of the land it sat on, a beautiful brick house sat on top of the careful incline. The winding driveway was lined with blooming apple trees and I rolled down my windows to take in the smell. There was a six-car garage I pulled up in front of and a beautiful backyard landscaped with all sorts of flowers. Tulips and rose bushes and anemones and freesias. Hydrangeas and carnations and massive cherry blossom trees. There was a weeping willow way out on the edge of the property with what looked like a gazebo underneath it.

  And there was steam rising from beyond a wall of daffodils.

  Was there a hot tub back there?

  It would make sense.

  Daffodils loved a consistent mist.

  I forced myself out of the car and wrapped around to get the flower arrangement. It was perfectly intact, and I smiled as I pulled it out of the trunk. I walked up the concrete walkway and ascended the steps onto the porch of the most gorgeous house I’d ever seen in my life.

  No, not house.

  Mansion.

  Estate, really.

  “For the last time, Hayden. You have to stay in that wheelchair.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on moving.”

  “Just let me take you outside. You love that backyard.”

  “I spent money on that backyard. Doesn’t mean I love it.”

  “Of course you do. Why else would you have purchased it?”

  “Other people tend to it. I don’t tend to things I don’t love.”

  I furrowed my brow as I listened to the argument behind the door. I lifted my hand to knock on it, then stepped back and waited for someone to open. A gust of wind almost knocked me off balance as someone pulled the door open, and in the doorway emerged a very exasperated woman. There were bags underneath her eyes and they were red. Bloodshot. Like she had been crying or constantly waking up from nightmares.

  “I was wondering when you were going to get here,” she said breathlessly. “Come in.”

  “Where should I place these?” I asked as I stepped inside

  “On the table in the kitchen. Down the left hallway. There’s a dining table you can place them on. And don’t mind the canker sore in the wheelchair.”

  I nodded my head, but I had no idea what she was talking about.

  The door closed behind me with a thud and it caused me to jump. The woman rushed up the stairs, rounding around and disappearing beyond the wall. I looked all around me, taking in the decadence of the home.