Tangle of Tinsel

I want a lot of things from you. “Ah. Yes, please.”

He plucks it from the hook and hands it to me. Our fingertips brush—my stomach flutters, and heat blooms in my face. I step back, stunned by the intense response.

“Thank you,” I say throatily.

“Of course. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Your number to start with. Then let’s take it from there, slim. I’m always wittier in my mind.

“I will.” Concentrating on keeping my drooling to a minimum, I force myself to stop ogling the man long enough to make a quick getaway. There’s no way a man this good looking is single. Spotting a white pom-pom garland, I start to form a vision in my head. I study the ornaments hung onto the tree with prices. Losing myself in the hunt, I occasionally pause to take my items up to the register. My body tingles, and I glance behind me to catch the worker’s gaze.

Heart speeding, I give a small smile and turn back around, trying to play it cool. It’s not the first time our eyes have locked. Suddenly, I’m a twelve-year-old girl with a crush. If we keep playing this game, one of us will have to say something or risk looking like freaks. So, he’s got killer genetics. This isn’t a romance novel. I won’t swoon into his arms and find my happily ever after. I said I’d turn a new leaf, but I’m not sure initiating flirting is part of that mission.

The bells shake hard above the door as it swings open with too much force. I watch as a family of four boys ranging in age from about seven or eight to diapers and in a baby carrier on Mom’s chest troop in. Speaking amongst themselves loudly, the boys seem to take up more space than their small bodies should. I move farther to the back as the kids spread through the store. Circling the charming collection of pinecone hedgehogs again, I bite the bullet and decide to buy them. A toddler appears out of thin air, and I stop short as my feet tangle together. I fight for balance and lose. Determined not to crush him, I choose to fall backward. Time seems to slow down and speed up.

“Joey.” His mother’s cry rings in my ear seconds before I smack into a tree. It cushions my body on the way down, but the unforgiving ground greets the back of my skull with a painful kiss. The world blurs and blackens before it comes back. Glass slivers slice into my skin. I crouch, spitting out the tinsel that tried to climb inside of my mouth at some point.

“Ma’am, please don’t move. We’ve got an ambulance on the way. You lost consciousness for a few minutes there.”

“Oh, no.” A whimper spills from my lips at the sound of his voice. A tear rolls down my face as it leaks from the corner of my eye. Pain throbs at my temples and the back of my head.

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay,” the man croons.

“I-I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for it all.” I struggle to focus on his light brown eyes full of ... concern? I was expecting anger.

His plush lips form a thin line. “You aren’t the one who should be apologizing or paying.” His face gentles. “Can I call someone for you?”

“No.” I shake my head and groan, instantly regretting the movement as the ache threatens to split my head in two. “I just moved here from another state.”

“Caleb, you can’t let this sweet girl ride to the hospital alone.”

“I won’t, Nona.”

“Miss ...” He looks down at me and arches a brow.

“Romy,” I whisper.

“Romy, I’m Caleb.” He holds my hand between his massive palms. The warmth is comforting. Sirens wail in the distance, growing closer by the second. Soon, the door is opening, and a team of paramedics is entering. Life gets hectic as they shine a light in my eyes and ask me questions. The world tips and spins like a Tilt-A-Whirl as they lift me onto the stretcher and raise it with a noisy click. I grasp the sheets and breathe deeply. A shadow moves, blocking out the chaos around me.

“I’m coming with you.”

My tongue thickens as my throat swells with unshed years. I don’t want to do this alone.

CALEB

Her blatant acceptance of injury keeps replaying in my head like a horror movie stuck on repeat. Her wide-set, almond-shaped eyes close, and her body tumbles back. Ornaments flew to the ground, smashing into pieces. The angel tree topper took flight. It was a selfless act of kindness for a tiny stranger. Living in New York for so long, I briefly forgot that not everyone is self-involved and out for blood. Romy Foster caught my eyes the minute she walked into the store. Her full, pink lips beg to be kissed, and those long legs seemed to go on for miles in her leggings and boots. Guilt makes me shift in the chair. The woman has a concussion, and who knew what else. It’s not the time to think with my prick. I run a hand through my hair and stretch out my legs to relieve the knee cramps forming. These tiny seats are a form of torture for a man of my size.

“Caleb?”

“Yes.” I hop from my seat.

“You can head back with me now. Ms. Foster is waiting for you.”

“Okay, thank you.”

I dig the phone from the side pocket and shoot a message to Nona. She’s been worried and waiting for news. It might have been an hour, but the time trickled as slow as tree sap. The stench of cleanser and medicine increases as we walk down the hallway toward the beds separated by curtains. If

Romy’s in the outpatient area, her condition can’t be too bad off. My gut twists. I clench and release my fists to ease the tension.