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  Yes. I was beginning to see that.

  The male paramedic came to stand in the open doorway and I sluggishly gazed over at him as he said, “She’s settled down now. You can come say goodbye.”

  No.

  No, I couldn’t.

  The look on her face as she backed away from me in terror played on repeat in my mind. Over and over again, it taunted me. It was not something I’d likely forget in a hurry.

  A second passed and the medics shared a look. The woman uttered, “Or you can just see her later. Visiting hours are between ten and three.”

  I nodded slowly, my eyes unfocused, and waited for them to leave. They finally did and a long silence settled over the tiny house I loved so dearly.

  As Paul Anka sang “Put Your Head on my Shoulder,” I did exactly that.

  And Jim let me cry for as long as I needed.

  Chapter One

  Taking Care of Business.

  Emily

  It was the third time I’d been to the recruitment agency in as many days and when the woman at reception saw me, her face fell. I hated that my pride fell right along with it. Before she opened her mouth to speak, I smiled brightly and cut her off. “I know, I know. You said you’d call, but—” I loathed to admit the truth. “—I’m desperate.”

  So desperate. Desperate like you wouldn’t believe. Just give me a darn job. Any job. I’ll scrub toilets. I’ll gut fish. I’ll shovel out manure. For the love of God, I’ll do anything.

  Leah stared at me and in that moment, I could tell she was annoyed. “You come by every day, and I tell you the same thing every single day.” She blinked slowly. “Save yourself the gas, honey. I got nothing for you right now.”

  Hmmm. Shoot.

  I didn’t correct her by mentioning I didn’t have a car because, well, that couldn’t have helped my chances at landing a job. Truth was, I couldn’t afford a car, or insurance, so I caught the bus wherever I needed to go, because it was better than walking the many hours to the city.

  My sigh was purely internal. I wanted to slam my fists onto the reception desk, stomp my feet, and scream in frustration.

  I didn’t understand.

  I had always been taught that when life closed a door, another opened. But, for some unknown reason, life was playing hard to get. There was no open door for me to enter. The windows remained closed. Heck, the blinds were even drawn.

  No. All life was doing was sucking the optimism right out of me.

  My smile waned as my chest squeezed. She didn’t get it. I didn’t want to push, but… “I’ll take anything,” I pled quietly. “Anything at all.”

  “Look.” For a second she actually looked sad for me and I felt that pity like a brick to the gut. “I’m sorry, honey, but you’re out of luck.”

  Out of luck.

  Sigh of all sighs.

  Did that saying count if you never had any to begin with?

  “Well.” I let out a short breath and smiled tightly, determined to remain positive even though it physically hurt. “Thanks anyway.” I pulled my backpack up higher onto my shoulders. “See you tomorrow?” When she rolled her eyes, I laughed quietly, walking backward. I held up my hands and called back, “Kidding.”

  No, I wasn’t.

  I’d be back tomorrow.

  As I made it out onto the sidewalk, I took in a deep breath and silently prayed for a break I knew I wouldn’t get.

  No. Chance had never been on my side.

  It was a shame. I could have used a stroke of luck right now.

  It had been ten days since Nanna had been admitted into Glendale Memorial and, thankfully, they were willing to keep her there until I found a permanent residence for her. There were a few nursing homes I’d been to visit that were merely okay but I had my mind set on one.

  St. Jude’s.

  It was lovely. Spacious, bright, warm. It smelled like gentle white flowers and the staff were sweet and genuinely caring. It was everything I wanted for Nanna. A home away from home.

  However, I wouldn’t be able to make that happen if I didn’t have a decently paying job. Hence my daily visits to the recruitment agency. And I just knew I would continue to bug Leah until she got sick enough of me to give me something, which said something, because I was not the pushy kind.

  Holding onto my shoulder straps, I walked back down to the bus stop. Partway there my stomach rumbled loudly and I reached into my backpack to pull out a granola bar. Opening the wrapper, I took a bite, and slowed my steps as I checked the open bus schedule in my hands.

  According to the timetable, I had a few minutes and it was only up the road.

  Besides, who ever heard of the buses in this city running early?

  When I approached the bus stop, my chewing slowed and my eyes widened as I watched a bus pull away.

  Was that…?

  No. It couldn’t be.

  I checked the lit display above the window. My granola bar hung from my fingers, my mouth agape, and I inwardly laughed.

  Sure. Of course.

  Well, that was great.

  Because why not?

  Just great.

  My eyes closed in sheer disappointment as I watched my bus glide farther and farther away from me.

  Well, it seemed I did have some luck after all.

  Unfortunately for me, it was of the ‘bad’ variety.

  With a light huff, I sat on the bench, took out my long dark hair and ran my fingers through it before tying it into a high ponytail. I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose before squinting into the sunlight. The morning sun felt like a balm on my soul and closing my eyes, I took a deep breath in then let it out slowly.

  What else could go wrong?

  I had more than an hour before the next bus and my short legs swung from the bench in annoyance. I frowned to myself. This finding a job gig was harder than I thought. Don’t get me wrong—I didn’t expect miracles, but I expected something. And so far, all I got was bupkis.

  So when I focused my squinting eyes on a building across the street, my brows lowered in disbelief.

  MAX Talent and Recruitment.

  Hello there.

  For an insane second, I actually thought about going in there.

  But… was it bad form to put your resume into one recruitment agency while waiting on another to find you work?

  Perhaps it was, but I was running out of ideas here.

  I mean, really, what could it hurt?

  At the end of the day if Leah called me, I’d race back there in a heartbeat. She’d never even have to know.

  I was on my feet before I could talk myself out of it. Looking both ways, I ran across the road, my denim backpack slapping me on the lower back with every step I took. I was a little sweaty and I could feel the rosy flush in my cheeks, so I paused and took a moment, licked my lips, and then put my hands to the glass and pushed the door open.

  The second I walked in, the pretty woman behind the desk looked me over. “You here for the interview?”

  Huh?

  My ears perked. A bright, blinding light shone around the woman as if she were a deity and in the background, angel song.

  Do I dare?

  It was miracle. Some higher power was giving me a sign, an opportunity here. I could feel it in my bones.

  It’s dishonest.

  I’d be an idiot to pass it up.

  You don’t even know what the job is.

  Who cares what the job is? It was a job! And Nanna always said beggars could not be choosers.

  Lips parted, I nodded, and she muttered a bored sounding, “Name?”

  I swallowed hard and peeped out, “Emily Aldrich.”

  The woman went over the list then frowned at me. “You got a resume? What agency sent you?”

  Oh no. I was had!

  Liar.

  Yeah. I was a terrible person. But as I thought about it, I asked myself what being a good person had got me in lif
e thus far.

  The answer came fast.

  Nothing.

  A whole load of steaming-hot nothing, that’s what.

  Terrible person or not, I decided to go for it. My heart began to race but somehow I got out, “I was sent by Leah at The Edge. It’s just down the street.” I reached into my backpack, pulling out a nicely creased resume. “Here you go.”

  Although the woman glared down at the wrinkled papers, she took them before shooting me another curious look. “Head on up. You’re number twelve.”

  Oh my God, she bought it, I inwardly crowed. She actually bought it.

  My feet carried me up the steps as fast as they could take me.

  My luck was about to change. I would make sure of it.

  I just had to.

  The door opened and when a pretty, young woman stepped out, I smiled at her. She hesitated, looked me up and down, and then smiled back, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  Suddenly self-conscious, I dipped my chin, peering down at my hands neatly resting in my lap. And this was my everlasting experience with beautiful people.

  My chest began to twinge.

  You don’t belong here, my brain hissed at me, and I took a moment to regroup.

  What did I care if I didn’t fit in?

  I was here for an interview, not to make friends. That was not the goal.

  I mean, friends would be nice but they weren’t a necessity, and I’d gone this far without them, so—

  “Emily Aldrich.”

  My head snapped up, and grabbing my backpack, I slung it over my shoulder and stood. I made my way toward the door and the mature man seemed to blanch when he regarded me.

  I forced a wide smile. “Hello, I’m Emily.”

  “Uh…” He took another look at me and then uttered, “Micah. Nice to meet you.”

  We shook hands briefly and the second I stepped into the room, I stilled.

  A man sat on a swivel chair but that’s not what made me balk. The man… he was big, and muscly, and he had tattoos.

  Oh, dear Lord.

  I swallowed hard.

  He was also very attractive.

  Oh my. He sure is.

  I tried to swallow a second time, but my mouth was dry and my tongue stuck.

  Lord, no. Why?

  He was one of the beautiful people.

  When he noticed me, he stood and waited expectantly. With Micah at my back, clearing his throat, I shot forward. “Oh, I’m sorry.” I held out my hand to the handsome guy and pasted on my sunniest smile. “Hi, I’m Emily.” The man encased my small hand within his large one and I couldn’t help but stare. And because my brain-to-mouth filter had never really seemed to work properly, I just had to open my mouth and say, “Wow. Big hands.”

  And the moment I realized what I said, my face bunched, I shrunk in on myself and groaned quietly.

  Way to sound like an idiot, Emily. All of those years of college clearly paid off.

  The man chuckled and I flushed neon pink. I snatched my hand back and dipped my chin. “I’m sorry.” My voice was barely there as I unconsciously wrung my hands together. “I’m a little nervous.”

  “No problem.” The stud’s voice was so low and rough that I immediately broke out in goosebumps. Thank God I was wearing a jacket. “Please, sit.”

  Yes. Sitting was good. I could only think of a handful of ways to humiliate myself while sitting. Standing, however? The possibilities were endless.

  The three of us took our seats and there was no dillydallying. They got right into it.

  Micah looked to the tattooed man and asked, “Where do you wanna start?”

  He-man looked down at his scribbled-on notepad and started with, “Okay, well, I’ve read your resume, Miss Aldrich, and—”

  “Oh, please. Call me Emily,” I cut in, and the man smiled politely.

  “Emily. And—”

  Here’s the thing. I had this slight issue when I got edgy. I spoke over people. Today was obviously—tragically—no exception. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  The man smiled wider. A long moment passed and, quite sluggishly, his smile fell. Once it had faded completely, he frowned over at Micah and I wondered what I had said to get that reaction.

  Oh, wow. My stomach hurt. And was that…?

  Yep.

  I was sweating.

  Nice.

  Micah narrowed his eyes at me and I knew I was messing this up terribly. Another second and my own eager smile started to fall. With my hands in my lap, I started to pluck at my thumbnail and bounce my knee in anxiousness.

  Emily, what did you do?

  Ugh. I don’t know!

  The silence was killing me.

  All eyes were on me and I didn’t like it. I preferred to remain invisible. It was something I had easily done my entire life. But today, I wasn’t so fortunate.

  Both men searched my face a while before the tattooed stud cleared his throat and kept his curious gaze on me. “I apologize. My name is Noah.”

  That was a lovely name, and for whatever reason, I told him just that. My smile was small but genuine. “That’s a lovely name.”

  “Thank you, Emily.” Noah smiled in return, and then his smile grew, and the next thing I knew he was chuckling to himself. “That’s kind of you.” His laughter lasted a while and I just wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

  Never had a job interview been as awkward as this one and what stank was that it was all on me. I was wasting this blessed opportunity and although I kept a semi-cool front, I was dying on the inside.

  Do better, Em. Be better.

  Okay.

  Noah smiled down at his notepad. “Now I see you’ve completed a double degree.”

  “Yes,” I told him, shuffling on my seat. “I have a bachelor’s degree in Business Management, and another in Creative Writing.”

  Noah’s mouth softened at the pride in my tone and it changed his entire face. “And what did you plan on doing with those?”

  Ah, crud.

  This was the part where people usually laughed at me.

  Whelp, here goes nothing.

  I held my head up high and stated, “Originally, I wanted to be an author.”

  There it was, out there, out in the open. I quietly paused to allow for the condescending laughter to commence.

  But there was no laughter.

  Instead, this seemed to grab Noah’s attention. His brows arched. “Nice. You like to read?”

  Okay, this is good. We can work with this. Don’t freak him out with your… freakiness.

  My response was enthusiastic, to say the least. “I love to read.” This was easy conversation for me and I leaned forward with query. “Do you?”

  Noah looked me in the face, and for a split second, his brow marred. It vanished almost as soon as it appeared. “I do. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of time for it anymore.”

  I put my elbow to my knee and rested my chin onto my upturned hand, beaming. “What do you like to read?”

  Wait, who was interviewing who here?

  Noah sat back a moment then grinned and his smile was as handsome as his name. “Autobiographies, mainly. What about you?”

  Ah, lovely. Here was yet another opportunity to be laughed at.

  Just be yourself.

  Noah didn’t look like the judging kind but he was a beautiful person, and I knew how fake beautiful people could be.

  My smile lazily slipped away and I revealed a tentative, “Sci-Fi. Fantasy. Paranormal.” I lowered my gaze. “Romance.”

  For some reason, Noah made a note on his scribble pad and nodded. “Nice.” He made another note, crossing out the first. “Okay, Emily. I’m going to ask you a series of rapid-fire questions now.” He laid his kind eyes on me. “Don’t think. Just answer as quickly as you can, okay? We’ll start easy.” At my nod, he began. “Last thing you watched on TV?”

  Well, ye
ah, that was easy. “I Love Lucy.”

  Noah snuffled out a laugh through his nose, and the more he did it, the less frightening it became to me. “Okay. How would you rate your memory?”

  Uh oh.

  On what scale? One to ten? I was taking too long. How did one judge that?

  All I could think to say was, “Elephantine.”

  At that, Micah narrowed his eyes and peered at me curiously. “What does that mean exactly?”

  But Noah responded for me. “An elephant never forgets.”

  Yes!

  My mouth gaped in disbelief.

  I couldn’t believe it. He got me. How strange? I breathed out, “Exactly.”

  This Noah guy was becoming less scary by the second. Also, I kind of loved him for being as understanding as he was. It wasn’t exactly an easy thing, to be understanding, when it came to me.

  Sure, I was odd and I knew it. I tried hard not to be, I really did, but how did one stop being themselves?

  “Last fun one, okay?”

  I bit my lip but nodded gently. I was beginning to like this man.

  “How would you describe the color yellow to a blind person?”

  “Huh,” I muttered as my brow creased. It was a great question. I needed a moment to think. After a short pause, I began, “Yellow is warm sunlight streaming into your room on a cold day.” My creative writing course kicked in and I took in a deep breath, responding on an exhale, “Yellow is soft and happy, and exciting without being noisy or obnoxious.” I smiled to myself, looking down at my lap. “Yellow is what fun feels like.”

  When I lifted my head again, my smile drooped and my heart stuttered.

  Both men were looking at me and they wore matching expressions on their faces. I wasn’t very good at reading people’s body language but when they looked at each other, Noah scribbled something onto his notepad and showed Micah. Whatever Noah had written, Micah seemed to agree and he spoke then, “How old are you, Emily?”

  Oh, crud. He sounded confused. Why did he sound so confused?

  My response was cautious and came out sounding like a question. “I’ll be twenty-four in June…?” The smile that followed surely looked like I was in a huge amount of pain.