Page 14 of Forbidden You

It’s a fucking nightmare.

“Good morning, Mr. McKay, how are you today?” The melodic voice of my father’s nurse flies in my ear, as soon as I answer the call.

“Good morning, Sheila.” I press the button for the elevator to ride up to the top, ignoring the slight pounding of my hangover. “I’m good. However, something tells me you’re about to ruin my day.”

She always ruins my day. I don’t have anything against her, she’s fucking amazing. All the nurses at Peartree Park are. But I don’t get calls from the Peartree unless something is up.

“Well, your father is okay, but I just wanted to inform you with my observation of the last couple of days, since I promised to keep you updated if anything changes. His state has severely deteriorated. We are trying to keep his day as structured as possible, but the clear days are becoming less frequent. He’s having a hard time voicing his wants and needs, and he can’t seem to dress himself anymore. I’ve suggested his doctor consider moving your father to a closed floor for his own safety.” She pauses while I process her words. A heavy feeling unravels in my stomach, and my chest deflates.

Everytime I think things can’t get worse, my fucking phone rings and my bubble gets burst allover again.

“I understand. Can you just give it a few days first?” The closed floor is something you don’t wish upon anyone. The people who are stuck there are nothing more than trapped souls in a vessel that doesn’t work for them anymore.

No one will get better from that.

Our senses are made to be stimulated.

I’ve been preparing myself for the natural course of my father’s deterioration, but every time his situation changes, it still feels like I’m hit by a ton of bricks.

It physically hurts knowing he’s sitting there, slowly fading away, and there is nothing I can do about it. Not unless I suddenly have the ability to bring back the dead like some Australian god.

“Thank you for telling me, Sheila.”

“No problem, Mr. McKay.”

“You can tell him I’m stopping by in the afternoon.” I know she won’t tell him anything, because it will most likely only confuse him, but I still tell her every single time.

She stays quiet for a brief moment until I hear the tone of voice that always comes with a kind smile. “He’ll love that. I’ll see you later today.”

“See you later, Sheila.” The elevator doors open, and I step outside with big strides.

I’m not going to let this fuck up my day. I just need a minute to myself, a very large coffee and some food to absorb the little alcohol that’s still blazing through my veins. As long as the day doesn’t throw me anymore surprises I’ll be— “what the fuck?”

My brows arch, my feet coming to an abrupt halt when my eyes lock with a set of baby blues that hit me in the chest like a damn arrow. Her chocolate brown hair shines from the sun glistening through the windows, while her beaming smile almost knocks me off my feet.

“Kayla?” I ask, confused.

My eyes move to the pastel pink suitcase standing beside her. “What are you doing here?”

She tilts her head with a thrown expression.

“Err, Rae said you offered me a job.”

Stunned, I blink. “I-I offered you... well, that’s one way to put it.”

I should’ve called in sick and stayed in bed like Jason suggested five hours ago when we came home wasted. Did the rum change the entire phone call in my head?

No, it didn’t.

Apparently Rae had a different conversation than I because, hangover or not, I’m positive I never saidshe can start tomorrow.

“I’m sorry. Were you not expecting me?” The disappointment washes her face, and I feel like an asshat. But no, I wasn’t expecting her.

In fact, I’d hope to be able to postpone this for a couple more weeks so I can figure out what the fuck I’m going to do with her.

And what’s with the fucking suitcase?

“Oh, damn. I’m going to kill her,” she mutters, her irises fierce and sexy as hell. “That lying little witch.”

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