Where We Belong Page 5

  Wrong answer, buddy.

  "Are you serious? What? You think that you can move home, tell me you’re sorry, and POOF, everything is back to the way it was?" God. Oh God. I want that so badly—more than I ever want to admit. Just seeing him and being this close to him reminds me of everything that we've been through together, both good and bad. Only he wasn’t there for the really bad, and whose fault was that?

  "Give me one reason," I state firmly. "Give me one reason why I should forgive you for walking away from me and our friendship so easily. One reason why I should forgive you for abandoning me at the darkest time of my life."

  His response is immediate. "Because you promised to always forgive me."

  I throw my hands in the air. "I was nine," I shout in frustration.

  He shakes his head. "It was still a promise," he says. Clearing his throat, he runs his hands through his tousled hair. Little does he know that he’s only making it look that much better, but Lord knows I'm not going to tell him that.

  Jesus, Harley. What is wrong with you? You're pissed, remember? Pissed!

  Neither one of us speaks for several minutes. When Tyson finally breaks the silence, his voice is thick with emotion. "I can't make this better if you won’t let me. You have to give me the chance, Harley. Please. I know this won't be easy, and I know that it will be a long road, but I need you to give me the chance that I never gave you." His eyebrows dip low and his lips part. He looks...pained.

  I hold his gaze firmly, but I can feel my resolve slipping. I hate to even think it, but when he says I need to give him the chance he never gave me, is he talking about more than friendship? I shake my head quickly, clearing my thoughts. I can't even let myself go there. Never again.

  His eyes shimmer in the moonlight, tears begging to be let free. Who am I kidding? Of course I'm going to give Ty the chance. It might very well ruin me though. I survived Ty once, but I'm not so sure I will survive him again.

  "Okay," I whisper, feeling defeated.

  "Okay?" he quickly asks in response, his mouth morphing slowly from a small grin into a full-blown smile. My mouth, obviously now acting on its own, smiles back.

  Damn mouth.

  "Okay."

  I LEFT THE BAR after talking to Tyson. There was no way I could go back in there and drink and carry on like nothing had happened.

  Coming home to an empty house sucks. Max is with my mom and It's too quiet. Tossing my keys on the dresser, I strip out of my dress, slide into my cami and boy shorts, and curl up in bed. Pulling the covers up to my chin, I close my eyes. Reflecting on what happened tonight isn't easy when all I can think about is how sexy Tyson smelled and how good it felt to have his arms wrapped around me. I just wish it were under different circumstances, like—oh, I don't know—passion rather than desperation.

  I can't believe this.

  Tyson is really home.

  When I walked into the bar and caught sight of him, my stomach dropped. Literally. I had always known that we would see each other again, but it was unexpected. What was even more unexpected was how quickly all the feelings that had been so neatly tucked away came flooding back, hitting me at full force.

  I was both surprised and relieved that Tyson was the one who followed me out—I fully expected it to be Levi. I'll have to remember to ask Levi about that.

  My determination had been holding up fairly well—or so I had thought—until he broke out the big guns. Of course, he had to use a childhood promise to make me agree to his request. Damn bastard knows how sentimental I am.

  "You can't play with us." I could tell it was Jimmy talking. Anyone could hear that squeaky voice coming a mile away.

  I had been playing in my backyard when I heard some kids playing on the sidewalk out front. Peeking around the garage, I saw that it was Ty with four other boys from our neighborhood. Jimmy was a bully; I never understood why Ty wanted to be friends with him.

  "Well, why not?" I heard Ty ask.

  "Because, you hang out with that fat girl. What's her name?"

  "Harley. And she's not fat," Ty replied. I felt myself smile. I always knew Ty would stick up for me.

  "Well, we don't like her. She's fat and she stinks," Jimmy said, waving his hand in front of his face as though he smelled something awful.

  "She does stink, doesn't she?" Ty said, laughing.

  Wait, what?

  I tiptoed closer, trying to hear more.

  "Are you gonna stop playin' with her?" Jimmy asks, tucking his basketball under his arm.

  "If you're gonna start lettin' me play ball with you guys, I will."

  I didn't even stay to hear the rest of the conversation. I ran into my house, through the back door, and straight up to my room. I cried to my mom about what I heard and she soothed me the way any great mom would, assuring me that everything would work itself out. I had her turn Ty away both times when he stopped by that weekend, and then on Monday I ignored him all day at school.

  Monday night I was playing in the yard and Ty came stomping over. "What's your problem? You ignored me all day," he said.

  "You said I stink," I yelled, fighting back tears.

  "Huh?"

  "I heard you tell Jimmy that I stink, and then you said you'd stop playing with me if he let you play basketball with him." I began to cry. Using my fists, I furiously wiped my tears away. "So go away, Ty, we're not friends anymore."

  His eyes widened. "But I punched him for you."

  "You what?"

  "We were playing basketball and he kept talking bad about you. I got mad, and then he called you ugly and I punched him. I came to your house to tell ya, but your mom said you couldn't play."

  I stood there staring at Ty. I wasn't sure what to say. I was mad that he said I was stinky, but I was glad that he punched Jimmy for talking bad about me.

  "So you forgive me? I don't wanna play with Jimmy and his friends. I wanna play with you," he said, sitting down on the swing next to me.

  "But you said I stink."

  "I'm sorry, Harley. You don't stink. Now do you forgive me?"

  "Yeah," I replied. "I forgive you."

  "Good. My dad says I’m gonna mess up a lot since I’m a gonna be a man, so you gotta promise you'll always forgive me."

  "Okay, I promise. As long as you always apologize, I’ll always forgive you."

  Damn my nine-year-old self.

  BEEP BEEP BEEP

  September in the Midwest usually provides fairly mild weather, and Max and I have been taking full advantage. Sunday flew by as we spent the entire day hopping from park to park, ending our adventurous afternoon at the local sno-cone stand.

  Beep Beep Beep

  My parents think that I spoil Max, but isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? In all honesty, I’ve harbored feelings of guilt for the past five years toward the way I reacted about the news of my pregnancy. To say that I was devastated when I found out I was pregnant would be a severe understatement. I know…I know. Everyone told me that it was expected for me to act that way after such a traumatic experience. Blah, blah, blah. But what bothers me most is that for the first six months of Max’s life, I was completely disconnected from him.

  Beep Beep Beep

  Sure, I would feed and change him and see to his basic needs, but that was pretty much the extent of it. It sickens me when I recall how many times I laid Max down or put him in the swing, just so I wouldn’t have to look into his eyes—the eyes that are the mirror image of his father's. I allowed my past and my insecurities to keep me from forming that mother-child bond right from the start. It took me a long time to forgive myself for that, and I hope that one day Max will forgive me too.

  Beep Beep Beep

  It nauseates me to think about all of the precious moments that I didn't allow myself to have with Max, and that is exactly why I treasure every single minute with him now. I understand that I can’t get those six months back, but I sure as hell can try my damnedest to make up for it.

  Hence the spoiling.
<
br />   Beep Beep Beep

  Swiping the talk button, my phone connects to Bluetooth. “Jesus! Can you not take a hint?” I yell.

  “No! You're being fucking childish.”

  “Are you serious? I’m being childish?" My left hand on the steering wheel, I begin to flail my right hand as though he can actually see me. “Levi...how could you do that to me?”

  “Damn! Your feistiness is a huge fucking turn-on right now." I can hear the smile in his voice and that pisses me off even more. He’s trying to make light of the situation, and I’m not letting him get away with it!

  “Seriously, Levi? I’m furious with you and that’s what you’re thinking?" Pulling into the parking garage at work, I maneuver my car into one of the cramped spaces and throw it in park. Sighing heavily, I lean forward and bang my head against the steering wheel.

  “Okay, okay. Don’t be so damn dramatic. Listen, I know I should’ve told you Tyson was going to be there and I promise that I meant to tell you, but I’ve been so busy lately that it slipped my mind." He pauses, waiting for me to reply. Hell no! He’s going to have to do better than that.

  “Ugh,” he growls. “I’m sorry, okay? It was a shit thing for me to do, and I should’ve told you. But I didn’t, and I can’t take that back. Forgive me?" he pleads.

  “Well, that depends," I reply, tapping my finger against my lips.

  “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. “On what?”

  “You have to come cook for Max and me.”

  “Done.”

  "This Wednesday."

  "Done."

  “And you have to make that spectacular cheesecake thingy that I love.”

  “Done.”

  “Good. Then I forgive you," I reply, silently smiling to myself, knowing good and well that I would have forgiven him without the dinner and dessert.

  SHRUGGING INTO MY LAB coat, I walk up to Cindy's door, knock twice, and let myself in. "Hey, boss! Where do you want me today?"

  Cindy and I started working here at the same time. Last year she was promoted to the position of staff coordinator, and I couldn't be more proud of her.

  "I'm not your boss," she replies swiftly, "but that does have a nice ring to it." Cocking her head to the side, she gives me a cheeky grin and continues typing furiously on her keyboard. "Okay. Done with that," she says, closing her laptop and leaning back in her chair. She gestures for me to sit and I do, tossing my bag on the floor and setting my tea on her desk.

  "It is way too early to be as busy as your are," I say with a chuckle.

  She rolls her eyes. "Tell me about it! I had some call-offs today, so I had to move a few people around. It's going to be one of those days."

  Reaching into my bag, I grab the pager that I’m required to carry and slip it into the pocket of my scrub jacket. Looking up, I find Cindy watching me. Her gaze appears both worried and hopeful.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask, instantly suspicious.

  "Because you're going to hate me."

  "Hmmm...try me."

  "I'm putting you in the ER." Scrunching her nose, she cringes, awaiting my reaction.

  Throwing my head back against the wall, I growl loudly.

  "See, I knew you'd be upset."

  I know, I'm a grown adult that's whining like a two-year-old, but I really hate the ER. You never know what's going to walk through the door, so I guess it’s really the unknown that I hate. It could be something fairly simple like a broken arm or someone needing stitches. Or it could be a mom, dad, or child just pulled from a car accident, barely alive and on the verge of coding. I. Hate. It.

  Reaching for my tea, I sit up and take a drink. "No, not upset," I reply pointedly. “After all, it is my job. I just really, really hate the ER. It's so depressing and it's such a fast-paced environment. I just feel like I don't do well there."

  "Nonsense," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "You're a great nurse, the staff down there absolutely loves you, and the head Doc down there adores you. Every time you work there, he raves about how good you are with the patients."

  "Ha!" I snort. "I'm not sure it's my nursing skills that he adores as much as it is my ass in these scrubs."

  She grins at me and shrugs. "Can't blame him there. It is a great ass."

  "Alright, as much I'd love to sit here and discuss the fabulousness that is my ass all day, I really better get to work."

  Standing up, she walks around her desk and gives me a quick hug. "Thanks for not hating me...oh! Can you take this with you down to the ER and give it to Nikki for me?" Reaching under her desk, she comes back up holding a large box.

  "Sure thing." I grab my bag and throw the strap across my shoulder. I wrap my arms around the large box and then Cindy picks up my cup of tea, waving it around. "Want me to throw this away?"

  "Are you crazy?" I scoff. "That's my fix! I need my sweet tea!"

  Laughing, she helps me take hold of my beloved tea. Hurrying in front of me, she props the door open with her foot. "Be careful. Oh, and don't drop the box!" she yells at my retreating back.

  "Ha! Be careful? Is this some kind of trap? I feel like you are setting me up for failure," I yell at her over my shoulder while continuing for the elevator. Angling my body to the left, I manage to hit the 'down' button with my pinky. "You owe me!" I shout as the elevator door dings and her laughter fills the air.

  Peeking around the edge of the box, I make sure that no one is coming before stepping out of the elevator and toward the ER.

  "Harley? Is that you?" I can't see Rosie, but I'd know that sweet voice anywhere.

  "Yup, it's me, Rosie! Can you get the door for me?" I can hear her feet shuffle across the floor just before the door opens. "Thank you so much!"

  "Whatcha got there?"

  "I'm not really sure," I reply, continuing down the hall. "I'm just delivering it to Nikki."

  "Well, she's back in her office. Just be careful…that box is too big. You're going to fall and break an arm."

  "Well," I holler over my shoulder, "at least I'm in the right place if that happens."

  Damn, this box is heavy. Cindy is going to owe me for—“OOMPH!" I hear a light grunt as the sudden, unexpected impact causes me to stumble back and drop my tea in the process. I can hear the liquid gush across the floor, and I cringe at my lost sugar high.

  "I'm so sorry. Please tell me I didn't bathe you in my tea," I plead as two hands reach out to remove the box from my grasp.

  "Nope." I hear a chuckle and my eyes snap up at the sound of his voice. Tyson. "Only got my shoes, but lucky for me my shift is ending, so it's no big deal." He shrugs, setting the box down. "Are you okay?" he asks, scanning me for any injuries. His wandering eyes leave a path of tingles and I shift my feet nervously.

  Jesus Christ. What the fuck is wrong with me? He's back for all of five minutes, and my body is ready to completely forget the past five years and claim him anyway.

  "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going," he says at my continued silence. "It's been a really long night, and I was kind of in a hurry to get home." I nod at his words but don't respond. I can't seem to form any intelligible words, let alone sentences.

  I blink rapidly several times, continuing to stare at the man in front of me. Dear God, he is sexy. Never in my life have hospital scrubs turned me on. Until now. The blue material is fitted across his chest. Not to the point that the top looks too small, but enough for me to get a good mental picture of what's underneath. And GOOD LORD those biceps are fucking drool-worthy.

  Okay, I need to get laid.

  Tyson has his stethoscope hanging over one shoulder and his lab coat draped haphazardly across his arm. His scrub pants are hanging low on his hips, and what I wouldn't give to reach under his top and—

  He clears his throat, snapping me out of my sex-driven thoughts. It appears that our run-in has rendered me catatonic. I must look like a complete idiot.

  "Harley? I asked if you're okay." His eyes are dancing with amusement. Busted! />
  Wait, what is he doing here anyway?

  "W-What are you doing here, Tyson?" I stammer, cocking my head to the side.

  His eyes light up and the smile on his face makes it look as if he just won the lottery.

  "I work here. This is where I'm doing my residency. What are you doing here? You hate the ER; it makes you nervous,” he states, furrowing his brow.

  His perception causes a dull ache to take root in my stomach. I had forgotten how well he knows me. When I ran into Tyson a few nights ago and agreed to allow him the chance to regain our friendship, I hadn't planned on seeing him again so soon. I thought I'd have a little bit more time to come to terms with everything. And I certainly hadn't planned on having to work with him. So right now I'm feeling a little off-kilter.

  I nod, feeling my lips curve into a smile. "I do...and it still does."

  "Then why are you working here?" He shifts his feet and leans his shoulder against the wall.

  "Well...I don't work here, work here...I mean I do work here—in the hospital—but not here in the ER...at least, not all the time, but sometimes—" He smiles as I fumble over my words. Shaking my head, I run a hand through my hair and take a cleansing breath. "I'm a float nurse. They pull me where they need me."

  "That's great, Harley. So we might be seeing each other every once in a while." Great. This is just what I need—a daily dose of my biggest regret. Lucky me.

  Looking down, Tyson chuckles, and I notice the puddle of tea that has now seeped around both of our shoes. "I see you're still a tea addict."

  "That's an understatement," I reply, stepping out of the tea puddle.

  "How are you ever going to make it through your day in the ER without your tea?" he asks, obviously amused.

  "I'm not," I reply, giving him the most hopeless look I can manage. "I'm probably going to die."