Page 42 of Right Place, Right Time (Second Chances)
“Was there ever a doubt?”
His eyes soften, and he shakes his head. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Sunshine.”
My heart warms at the endearment. “You were just yourself, Jay. That’s all I ever want you to be.”
He presses his lips to mine again, effectively ending our conversation. We slowly strip off one another’s clothes, taking time to admire every piece of each other with touches and kisses. Then finally, when there’s nothing left between us, he makes love to me.
Twice.
***
Last night was amazing.
We’d played and talked until the wee hours of the morning, and then I fell asleep in his arms. When we’d woken up some time in the early afternoon, I’d finally gotten to trace those tattoos of his and he told me about each and every one of them. He has almost complete sleeves on each arm and more on his chest and back. Some are colorful, some are just black, but they all mean something to him.
My favorite is his most recent. It’s an artistically drawn sun on his arm, just below his shoulder. He’d confessed that it reminds him of me…because I’m his light. He got it when he’d first arrived in California. The fact he got a tattoo to remind him of me should have freaked me out, but it didn’t. The sentiment brought tears to my eyes, and I knew right then and there that I was falling in love with him. Not that I can tell him that, though. It would probably send him running. Which is completely ridiculous since he permanently marked himself with a symbol of me. If that doesn’t indicate he’s in deep, I’m not quite sure what else will. I guess I’ll just have to wait for him to catch on.
We make love one more time before he takes me to a late lunch and then drops me off at home. I have a shift at Five tonight, so I have to step off my cloud and rejoin reality. Smiling to myself at the memory of the soft kisses we’d shared before he finally rode off, I let myself into the apartment.
The lights are out inside the apartment, which is odd since I saw Casey’s car in the parking lot. It’s also very quiet. I find it hard to believe Casey and Decker can be that quiet. I hope they didn’t get into another fight. They really need to figure their shit out. They’re so perfect for each other it’s annoying. I briefly consider that they might actually be getting along—really well, if you know what I mean—but even that would produce a sound or two. I feel the heat in my cheeks as I think about the sounds that must have been coming from Jay’s apartment last night.
I set my things down on the table in the entryway and head down the hall, desperate for a shower. As much as I hate to wash the evening and morning and afternoon off of me, I can’t exactly show up to work looking like I was ridden hard and put away wet. Even though Isowas. I giggle at the dirty thought.
I start the shower and while it heats up—I like lots of steam—I decide to check on Casey. I guess she and Decker could have walked to the café or taken a cab somewhere, but I doubt it. And it’s too late—or too early—for them to be asleep. I knock on the door and there’s no answer. I try the knob, and it’s locked. An uneasy feeling creeps over me.
Not again. Please, not again.
I bang on the door, hoping to wake Casey up if she’s sleeping.Ifshe’s sleeping. No. I’m not going to think that way. “Casey!” I call out, banging on the door again. “Casey, open up!”
Nothing. Just utter stillness.
I go into my bedroom and open the top drawer of my nightstand. Somewhere in here is one of those stupid little flat-head pin keys that’ll open Casey’s door.Where is it?Ah-ha! Found it. I quickly go back to Casey’s door and unlock it.
What happens next is another one of those moments. Only this one is bad. Very, very bad.
Casey’s lying on her bed, curled around her pillow. Her skin is pale and her lips have a bluish hue. I’m frozen in shock in the doorway for a moment, but only for a moment because my instincts kick in. After all, this isn’t the first time this has happened.
To me…or to Casey…
I check for a pulse…it’s faint, but it’s there. I roll her onto her back and check her airway. Clear. I begin CPR.
My movements are mechanical. Clinical. It’s almost as though I’m outside of myself, looking in. I’m terrified, but I’m not. I want to cry, but I can’t.
I spot Casey’s phone on the nightstand as I’m doing my compressions and quickly grab it, telling Siri to call 911. She complies and pretty soon, I have a dispatcher on the line. I’m giving her directions through the speakerphone while pounding on my best friend’s chest.
She isnotgoing to die on me.
