Wildcard: Volume One

She storms out of the room only to return a few minutes later with a pan.

“Wait, no,” I protest as she rolls me further onto my side so she can position it under me. I sigh, defeated.

“Ryder, I want to be a nurse. Think of this as training for me,” she says with a shrug.

“You want to be a nurse?” I repeat, shocked. Why didn’t I know that? “Why would anyone want to do this for a living?” I grumble, yanking the blankets back over me.

“Because some people, like me, get satisfaction out of helping others. But you wouldn’t understand what that feels like, would you?” she adds sweetly.

I narrow my eyes at her. She pokes out her tongue and prances out of the room.

I’ll never tell her to her face, but I’m proud of her. She knows what she wants out of life and she’s going for it. To follow your heart takes a lot of guts.

Something I don’t have.

**

With my laptop sitting on the bed beside me, I plug her name into my newly acquired Skype account and press search. There it is. I click on her profile and add her as a contact.

Next, I find myself scouring Facebook for all the Scarlett Caleras. So, I’m stalking her now? I laugh as I realize I probably passed the definition of stalking a while ago.

Once again I find myself thankful for her unusual surname. There is only one profile that fits her name and location. It has to be her. Without friending her, all I have access to is her profile pic, but that is more than enough.

My heart is pounding as I stare at her. She is stunning. Immediately, I’m drawn to her eyes. They are a deep emerald, surrounded by long, dark lashes. Her thick, dark hair is brushed over one shoulder as she crouches down, her arms wrapped around the neck of a little boy. Jake. He looks so much like his mum, and the smile on her face shows me just how much her means to her.

The next thing I know, my laptop starts ringing. Fuck, she’s calling me? My heart races as I press answer. I feel underprepared to speak to her and I have no idea why.

Why the hell am I so damn nervous?

“You’ve joined the age of technology,” she giggles.

“I have,” I confirm, smiling. “Now I get to talk to you and stare at a blank screen.”

That’s a lie. I’m still staring at her Facebook profile.

She laughs. “I can see you.”

“You can? That’s not really fair, is it?” I say with a grin. What’s she thinking? I’m wishing I’d taken the time to shave now. I resist the urge to straighten my hair, which is ridiculous. She already knows what I look like.

“No, I guess it’s not. Hold on a sec.”

I wait, listening to the muffled sounds of her fiddling with her computer, when suddenly my screen lights up. Her smiling face grins back at me and I realize the photo doesn’t do her justice. Her long, dark brown hair is pulled back in a messy bun. Her huge green eyes twinkle as she smiles, and I can’t help but smile back.

“That better?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

“Better,” I murmur, nodding.

She laughs, pink spreading onto her cheeks. “So, you’re really Ryder Stevens. I wasn’t expecting to feel so . . . I don’t know.”

“Overwhelmed? Honoured? Excited?” I quip, amused.

She laughs again. The sound makes me smile.

“Get over yourself,” she scoffs. She bites her lip, her pretty eyes narrowing at me. “You’re not that big a deal, Mr Stevens.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” I grin.

“You’re hanging out with the wrong people then. So, two calls in one day. I feel special.”