Page 36 of Forbidden Heroes

I go stiff when my professor settles a large, warm hand on the small of my back, just above my ass but to not too high where he’s touching my bra.

Also known as my weak spot.

It’s endearing, a touch too personal and way out of line.

I know I shouldn’t but I love it.

Not to mention that I appreciate the comfort I know he’s trying to give me. I glance up at him and see worry around his eyes, and the lines of his forehead crease with the same worry eating me up inside.

He gives a nod toward the phone as if telling me he’s there and I can continue.

Why? is all my mind can wonder, and tears threaten to well. Not only from the sudden change and the demonstration of actual feelings from the man, but from having someone in my corner even if in gesture only.

“Yes, dear, the nurse came by, but I’m not calling for that. I wanted to let you know that the doctor said your father is responding pretty well to the new meds. We even enjoyed a nice outing after our call this morning and the sunshine was wonderful.”

My eyes fall closed and I give a silent thanks for tiny miracles in a storm of shittiness. As odd as the contact is, it helps that Blackthorne hasn’t dropped his hand from my back. That small connection of strength fuels my own.

My heart swells, and this time I wipe at a tear. The usual routine for my parents is more of one spent shut off from the world because my father battled such a deep depression he couldn’t tolerate people much less the bright Georgia sun in his face. Because of that, my mother suffers alongside him because she refuses to leave him alone. It seems the new medication, though almost twice as expensive, is worth it.

“Okay, Mom. Can I speak to Dad?”

“He’s sleeping, honey. We haven’t been out in so long he tuckered himself out.”

“Oh okay, let him rest then. I’ll call back later after class, Mom. I love you.” I don’t want to worry her more than necessary. She has no idea the measures I’ve taken to send money back to them. She thinks I have a steady well-paying job at the campus library. And I want to keep it that way. Both my dad and mom sacrificed a lot for me and my brothers. It’s my turn to help them now. I know my brothers will step in and help as soon as they can.

I end the call and turn my face up to Blackthorne’s in appreciation. “Thank you for that,” I say quietly and hope he doesn’t take my next question the wrong way. “Why did you do that?”

I have a hard time believing the concern in his eyes. Not many people care for others without a reason, or if you aren’t family, in my experience. And sometimes not even family care that much.

“You looked like you could use a little support. I had a mother too and know what it’s like to worry. No one should go through that alone if they don’t have to.”

Wow, that was the last thing I expected to hear. His answer shocks me, given the reputation that swirls around him is borderline iceman-slash-recluse. I wrap my fingers around the thickness of his forearm and look into his eyes, but he jerks free and steps back like I’ve slapped him before I can tell him how much that means.

“Will that be all, Ms. Johnson?” Ice cold. He’s back by his desk combing through papers again. But I see the pain he’s trying to hide behind a wall of cold indifference. He’s not fooling me. But I can’t focus on that right now.

Stunned, I don’t know what to say but excuse myself as fast as possible with my chin high, shoulders straight and my mind a whirl of colliding thoughts.

Outside, the storm from earlier pelts the sidewalks and other pedestrians with a heavy spring rain. I hail a cab to drive me the ten blocks to my apartment with money I can’t spare and dash upstairs. Water drips from my clothes to wet the small welcome mat as I reach my door, and I collect the mail stuffed in the box. But I have a hard time reading the words through the tears.

I take a moment to clear my thoughts. Damn this soft heart of mine.

There are only so many different ways this day could get worse, I suppose. I kick the door closed with my foot as I shuffle through the stack of envelopes and see a letter from Emberly. She always prefers the old-fashioned stationery and hand-penned notes to an email. I smile as I read about how her belly is growing with her little bundle of joy. I’m happy for her happiness, but it also makes me think of my own current state of despair.

The smile from my face falls as I see three new bills from my father’s doctor’s office with a bright red urgent stamp across the top. Talk about drilling in the stress. My heart can’t take much more, I swear. I had all the medical bills forwarded to my residence so my parents wouldn’t have to deal with them with money they no longer had.

What the hell am I going to do? I throw my head back and let out a belly-deep bellow.

Once I finish my Xena cry in the middle of my living room, I take my cell phone out and pull up Amber in my messages.

I’m in.

I don’t have to wait long for a reply.

I’ll pick you up. Tomorrow. Six sharp. Be ready.

I toss my phone on the couch and head toward the shower for a date with a razor. Maybe I can kill a few birds with the same stone with this auction. Pay off all these fucking bills choking me to death and land a date so fucking hot I can fuck Professor Blackthorne and his dark, hauntingly beautiful eyes out of my system and be free once and for all.

I don’t hold out any hope, but I’m willing to try.

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