April Embers_A Second Chance Single Daddy Firefighter Romance Read online

  My only solace were those beautiful eyes behind the bouquet.

  Beautiful eyes that probably sang for another man in bed at night.

  A man stronger than me.

  A man who wasn’t stuck like me.

  Fuck.

  I hated my life.

  Chapter Four

  Grace

  I continued to deliver flowers over the course of the next two weeks everyday. For two months, it was six times a week. And now, all of a sudden, it was everyday. The same arrangement with the same flowers in the same type of vase. I wasn’t sure why, but the prospect excited me. Writing that man more notes in the hopes that it was doing something positive for him made me smile. We were having to outsource our orchids from another florist across town, but it was worth it. I’d come in early, pick them up, and get to arranging them along with the lilies and the greenery.

  Every day for two weeks.

  But this time, things were a little different.

  I drove out to the house, knocked on the door, and was greeted with a very tired mother. I’d come to get to know her a bit. Her story and how her son had gotten into the position he was in. She told me he enjoyed the flowers. That the backyard was a passion project between her late husband and her son for almost two years. The flowers in his room and around the house were her way of bringing the outdoors to him since he wasn’t interested in going outside of his own volition.

  Which didn’t surprise me.

  The man was obviously depressed.

  However, when she opened the door she seemed more tired than usual.

  “Where would you like them?” I asked.

  “I don’t care,” his mother said. “Anywhere’s fine.”

  I walked into the house with my brow furrowed. At the very least, his mother always had a smile to offer. A kind word or a thanks. But her shoulders were slumped and her feet were dragging and it seemed as if she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

  “Mom? What the hell? Where are you?”

  I watched who I assumed was the man’s sister come down the hallway stomping her feet. She looked a lot like him. And like her mother. They both seemed to take after her in all the major features.

  I wondered what their father looked like.

  “Why are you standing there?” she asked.

  I realized she was talking to me and I hurried along.

  “Don’t get angry with her. She’s just bringing flowers,” the mother said.

  “I need help with Hayden. I can’t get him into his wheelchair,” the woman said.

  I felt panic rush through my veins as I set the flowers down on the small table in the foyer.

  “What do you mean you can’t get him into his wheelchair?” the mother asked.

  “I mean I’m too tired. Too weak. We can’t keep doing this, Mom. The center hasn’t sent another nurse over and I can’t physically lift him.”

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  They both turned to me as I brushed my hands off on my shirt.

  “Your son. The one in the wheelchair?”

  I watched the mother nod as I drew in a deep breath.

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  “He’s uh… he’s in the dining room. We were doing physical therapy, and he fell,” the sister said.

  I rushed down the hallway and through the kitchen and found exactly what was going on. The man was on the floor, trying to pull himself up by his hands on one of the chairs. He was grunting and slipping, trying to get his bad leg underneath him so he could stand.

  I rushed to his side and put my arms around him, then centered myself on my feet and leaned back.

  “On three,” I said.

  “Get the fuck away from me.”

  “One… two…”

  I lifted them man up and in two strides I had him sitting down in his wheelchair. He was drenched in sweat and his eyes were closed and his hand was planted firmly on my chest. He shoved me away and I stumbled backwards, catching myself on the windowed double doors that led out to the backyard.

  I put my hand on my chest where he had touched me and felt the searing heat of his skin against my body.

  “Get out,” he said.

  “I need to make sure you’re-”

  “Get out!”

  His voice was booming. It shook me to my core. His eyes were angry and his body slumped in defeat and it made me frustrated with his situation. What the hell was going on in this house? Why wasn’t this man being properly taken care of? I turned my head and saw his mother and his sister standing in the doorway, their eyes wide as they watched the scene unfold.

  I pushed myself through them and headed for the door before I felt a hand on my wrist.

  “I have more deliveries to make,” I said.

  “Can we talk? Just for a second?” his mother asked.

  I turned and looked at her. Took in her desperate stare and the way she was already huffing for air. She was exhausted. The bags underneath her eyes told me the story of how long they had been struggling to take care of that man. I nodded my head and she led me into a room. A room full of books and a fireplace.

  Then she dragged me into another room that was tinged with the faint essence of smoke.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  I watched his sister come into the room before she shut the double doors behind her.

  “We’ve been struggling to find another nurse to help us out with Hayden.”

  “That your son’s name?” I asked.

  “Yes,” the younger woman said. “I’m Cara, and this is our mother. Clarisse.”

  “It’s nice to meet you both,” I said. “I’m Grace.”

  “You picked him up so easily. How?” Clarisse asked.

  “I go to the gym everyday. I consider myself to be pretty strong. When you know how to properly squat and deadlift weights, it becomes easier to pick up a man of that size,” I said.

  “It’s exhausting,” Cara said. “Keeping up with the things he needs. The showering and the physical therapy. The cooking and the cleaning.”

  “Hauling him up and down the stairs whenever he wants to be in a different part of the house,” Clarisse said.

  “I can only imagine,” I said.

  “The nurses the center is sending over aren’t cutting it. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. It’s hard to find a nurse that will take him on full-time. They’re usually rotating between two or three patients a day. My mom and I are having to pick up the slack, but we can’t do it all. It’s been two and a half months and it’s only making the three of us angrier at one another,” Cara said.

  My heart ached for them, but I was also presented another opportunity. I had the credentials to be his nurse. I had the specialty of working with people with disabilities. And the money from being a private nurse would really do me some good. I had a feeling they were unloading onto me because they had no one else to talk to, but I had a solution that might benefit everyone involved.

  And get me into the nursing game the way my parents wished I was.

  “I’m sorry,” Clarisse said. “We just… you’ve witnessed so much and our son’s been less than hospitable in his actions towards you. We wanted the chance to fill you in on what was going on since you’re sort of around everyday anyway.”

  “We know you have other things to do. We just thought we owed you an explanation as to our attitudes,” Cara said.

  “We aren’t neglecting Hayden,” his mother said.

  “I never thought you were,” I said. “But the truth is, you can’t keep up with his needs.”

  “We know,” Cara said. “We’re… trying to find a solution for that.”

  “I have a suggestion. If it isn’t out of place,” I said.

  “We’ll take anything at this point,” Clarisse said.

  “I’m a licensed nurse. And I’m trained to work with people with disabilities like Hayden’s. Recoveries and P.T. and things like that. I go to the gym regularly, so I can physically handle the demands of his caretak
ing, and all of my extracurricular activities were devoted to psychology classes, so I know a thing or two about taking care of the mental health of my patients.”

  I watched their jaws go slack as I drew in a deep breath.

  “I could help you guys out during his recovery if you need it. And I don’t come with the added weight of being employed by a center who rotates me through clients,” I said.

  I watched the two of them look at each other as my mind began to swirl. I wasn’t sure if I had overstepped a line or anything, but this family all needed someone to lean on. Someone to give them a break. Given the house they lived in and the expensive bouquet of flowers they had on rotation, being their private nurse would pay my bills, give me plenty to put away after paying off my student debt, and give me the ability to travel some in the future. It would be a wonderful move into a career I didn’t think I’d be able to step into right out of graduate school, and part of me was hoping they would offer me the job.

  A chance to take a different life path. Though I was going to miss the flower shop if they hired me.

  “That’s very generous of you,” Cara said. “But I don’t know if bringing in someone outside of the center is a good idea.”

  “You sound qualified, don’t get us wrong,” Clarisse said. “But the center vets these nurses carefully. Background checks. Drug tests. Licensing. It’s safer for us, given our status in the community, if we go through the center.”

  I felt myself melting through the floor as I stood there. I was thoroughly embarrassed. Why the hell did I ever think they would take some dinky florist up on some idiotic job offer?

  “I completely understand,” I said. “And I’ll be back tomorrow with the daily floral arrangement.”

  I nodded my head and walked over to the massive double doors. I didn’t want to be in the house any longer. I felt my hands trembling with embarrassment. Like a kid who had been silently laughed at by all the adults in the room. I threw the doors open and went to take a step, but stopped when I saw the silver leg props of a wheelchair in front of me.

  My gaze worked its way up Hayden’s body and found his eyes hooked onto me.

  “No,” he said.

  I furrowed my brow as his gaze moved over my shoulder.

  “She’s not going anywhere.”

  “What?” Clarisse asked. “What do you mean?”

  “The two of you have been bickering like an old married couple over what to do about a new nurse. So I’m going to settle the argument. She’s hired,” he said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You can’t hire her,” Cara said. “She’s… the florist.”

  “Who picked me up off the floor without a second wind to give,” he said. “She stays, but I’m leaving.”

  “What the hell does that even mean?” Clarisse asked.

  “It means I’m hiring her and taking her back home. With me. I’m not staying here any longer.”

  “You can’t go back home, Hayden. You have to stay here so we can take care of you,” Clarisse said.

  “No, no, no. Let’s hear him out,” Cara said.

  “You don’t live here?” I asked.

  He looked up into my eyes as I cocked my head.

  “This isn’t my home, no,” Hayden said.

  “Then if you’re going to hire me, my first decision is that you get home. No wonder you’re not recovering here. You’re not in familiar territory,” I said.

  “Hayden, you’re staying here and that’s the end of it,” Clarisse said.

  “Mom, he’s right,” Cara said. “We’ve been overriding his decisions for the past two and a half months. If he wants to go home, who are we to stop him?”

  “I’m not giving up on my son.”

  “No one’s giving up on me,” Hayden said. “But I’m tired of being here. Of wearing the two of you down. I’m going home and I’m hiring--?”

  “Grace,” I said.

  “I’m going home and I’m hiring Grace as my private nurse. And that’s the last of this discussion I’ll entertain.”

  I watched his mother and sister look at one another. Cara was softening quickly towards the idea, probably out of exhaustion and relief. But his mother looked like she was ready to put up a fight. I stepped out of the room and grasped onto Hayden’s wheelchair handles, prepared to wheel him out if they began arguing.

  If he really was going to hire me, then his mental health was just as important as his physical health.

  “Fine,” his mother said breathlessly. “That’s… fine. I guess. You should be where you’re comfortable. And if you aren’t comfortable here, then maybe you should be home.”

  “I’ll go pack your things,” Cara said.

  “I’ll go pull the car around,” his mother said.

  I looked down at the top of Hayden’s head and watched as he nodded curtly at his family.

  “When do you want me to start?” I asked.

  “How does now sound?” he asked.

  Chapter Five

  Grace

  “You’re leaving me!? Since when?”

  “I got a job as a private nurse,” I said. “I technically started yesterday, but I’m working half days through the week to transition into the job.”

  “Who’s it with?” Emilia asked

  “To be honest? The house we’ve been delivering flowers to regularly for the past three or so months.”

  “Wait, how did they figure out you were a licensed nurse?” she asked.

  “Without diving into whole story, the house we’ve been delivering flowers to has a man recuperating from an accident. When I took the flowers over yesterday, he had been doing physical therapy on the floor and they couldn't get him into his wheelchair. So I did.”

  “Way to go,” she said with a grin. “But on a serious note, I’m happy for you. I know you’ve been dabbling with the idea of staying here or finding a job elsewhere, and I’m glad you found something in your field of study.”

  “I’m going to hate leaving you, Emilia.”

  “Trust me, I’m going to hate letting you go. But I know you love taking care of people. I know that’s why you got into nursing. You've worked with me for years, Grace. It’s time you got out of my shop and explored the world you chose to be a part of.”

  “Am I making the right decision?” I asked. “Taking this job?”

  “Depends. Are you excited for it?”

  “I’m nervous.”

  “But is that nervousness undergirded with positive or negative emotions?”

  I picked up an apple slice between my fingers and slid it between my lips. I honestly wasn’t sure. Part of me was so nervous I could throw up. What if I really wasn’t what this man needed? What if I couldn't help him in all the ways I thought I could? However, I was excited about helping. About giving him a quality of life during his recuperation he obviously hadn’t been getting at his parent’s home. Or sister’s. Or whoever that mansion belonged to.

  “Positive, I think,” I said.

  “Then that’s good enough for now,” Emilia said. “So, tell me more about this person we’ve been delivering flowers to.”

  “I can’t tell you much without destroying the HIPPA agreement between us.”

  “Then tell me what you can.”

  “I mean, he was in an accident. A bad one. He’s looking at another hip surgery in a couple of weeks so he can start retraining himself how to walk.”

  “Yikes. What kind of accident was it?” she asked.

  “A car hit him,” I said.

  “Holy hell. Is he okay?”

  I cocked my head off to the side and pursed my lips.

  “He’s about as good as any man would be after getting hit by a car and being wheelchair-bound.”

  “I get it. I get it. Stupid question,” she said.

  “I’m hoping to not simply help him with physical therapy, but to also help him with his mental state. That goes a long way with recuperations like this, and he’s not in a very good one.”

>   “What do you mean? He’s not mean to you, is he?”

  “Not so much mean as he is cold. Distant. He’s sort of severed himself from the world so he doesn’t get upset that he can’t convene with it,” I said.

  “Grace…”

  “I hear you, Emilia. But I promise you, he’s not a mean man. He’s a disappointed one. He’s obviously got a decent job if he can afford out-of-pocket all the things that come with an in-home nurse, and I can only imagine what he’s had to put on hold with that job because of this accident.”

  “I want you to be careful,” she said.

  “There’s nothing to be careful about. I’m his in-home nurse. Nothing more.”

  “But I know you. I know how you get when you become invested in something. You lose your professionalism and it becomes an emotional thing for you. I’ve seen you do it with regular customers. Wanting updates on their lives and wanting to know how their kids are doing.”

  “That’s called ‘networking’,” I said.

  “So it is networking when a regular customer comes in here, talks about how her daughter got her heart broken for the first time, and you’re so emotional you have to go home early because you can’t stop crying and wondering if she’s okay?”

  “That was one time, Emilia.”

  “All I’m saying is be careful, Grace. If you want to help him through his mental blocks as well as his physical ones, I could see you becoming attached,” she said.

  “That won’t happen. He’s a new client, and temporary at that. Once he’s up and walking and back at work, my job is done. Two months, tops.”

  “So you’ll have no issues keeping it emotionally platonic?” she asked.

  “I promise,” I said. “Emotionally platonic is my game as an in-home nurse. It’s a different world. I’m a different person when I’m in your flower shop. I promise this won’t be an issue.”

  “Okay,” she said as she reached for my hand. “Then I trust you.”

  “Thank you for looking out for me,” I said.