Whiskey and Country

34

NICHOLAS

A month later

Irubbed my hands together, admiring the new and improved bathroom. Yeah, it looked sharp. Gone were the old tiles and leaking faucets. Mrs. Rutherford had allowed me a decent budget to remodel the room, and thanks to Dahlia’s interior design skills, it rose above expectations.

I hadn’t seen my woman in almost a week, and somehow, it felt like forever. With the store doing well and garnering clients from all over, she’d been busier than she hoped to be. Her employee Joan being home with her sick grandson didn’t help matters. At night, after work, Dahlia spent some time with Jack and went to bed early, exhausted. I didn’t mind—except that my body was in withdrawal—using the time apart to work on the house. At least now I had one less room to worry about. We talked on the phone in the morning and at night. The last time we saw each other, I brought pizza over, and Dahlia fell asleep as we watched a movie afterward, minutes after it started. When we hung out at her house, I still didn’t spend the night. After I put her to bed and made sure Jack slept tight, I drove back here. Alone in this house too big for one man.

Hungry, I went downstairs and surveyed the place, still struggling with Buddy’s absence. Whenever I was home alone, I missed my old pal. Even if he was as active as a piece of furniture, he still brightened up my days.

I dropped my ass on a stool in the kitchen when a knock on the door startled me. I wasn’t expecting anyone at this early hour on a Saturday morning. Getting to my feet, I smoothed my stained working clothes and ran a hand through my hair, trying to look kinda respectable.

My frown transformed into a grin—one I was sure made me look stupid—at the sight of Dahlia holding a sleeping Jack in her arms, standing on my front porch, her hair loose around her face. My smile vanished the moment I noticed the worry lines around her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I lifted Jack from her arms, inviting her in. “Are you okay?”

Her chest caved in, and her voice did not carry her usual conviction. “Paula is home with a bad case of flu, and I got called at the store because one employee didn’t show up. Her car broke down. The girl who’s there right now can’t hold the fort by herself. I hired her a week ago. She’s not trained to do everything yet.”

I leaned forward and brushed my lips against hers. “Tell me what you need. I’m all yours for the day.”

“In fact, I was wondering if you could watch Jack for a few hours.” She gave me a once-over. “Oh, you were working. This is so embarrassing. I should’ve called. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take him with me and find another solution. I’m sorry I bothered you. Please go back to what you were doing. I’ll go now.”

I clutched her elbow. “Dahlia, stop. I’m here. Don’t ever feel bad asking for my help. I love you and will always be here for you two. You are what matters to me the most. Both of you. And no, I wasn’t working, just been admiring the work I finished last night, so far.”

She let out a nervous breath, fidgeting with the chain around her neck.

“Nick Peterson, you’re my hero in more ways than you can imagine.” She sagged in a chair at the table. “Gosh, I’m drained. You’re a lifesaver. I should only be gone for a few hours. Jack’s stuff is in his bag. You can put him down for a nap after lunch. I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

Dahlia rubbed her temples, and the sight of her, overwhelmed and visibly tired, noted by the dark circles under her eyes, pained me.

I laid the boy on the couch and took a seat beside her, grabbing her hand in mine.

“Don’t worry. I got everything under control. We’ll be fine. Do your thing and come back later. I’ll cook dinner, and you’ll spend the night here. You have to rest. I’ll watch over Jack. You can trust me.”

Dahlia tilted her head back and met my eyes. “I trust you, Nick. I always do. Thanks for being here. I’m usually better organized than this—”

I rested my forehead against her, breathing her air in, basking in her energy. Our souls fused for a second, and mine comforted hers.

“You’re a great mom. These things happen. As you said, sometimes you’ve got to surf the tide. And just so you know, the upstairs bathroom is now fully functional, and the new shower is much bigger.” I wiggled my eyebrows, and Dahlia burst out laughing.

There. The wrinkle across her forehead vanished.

Her lips, soft and warm, claimed mine, and I melted in her embrace. Stuck in an internal war between what I must do and what I craved, I gently pushed her away.

“Go. We’ll be here when you get back.”

I kissed her one last time, memorizing her lips, before she left in a hurry.

“You’re amazing,” she yelled over her shoulder, waving at me. “I love you.”

In the living room, Jack was still deep in sleep. I observed him for a moment, peaceful, his fist closed around a fluffy blanket.

Minutes later, I placed him in his portable bed, fearing he’d fall from the couch like the first time he came over.

On the kitchen table, I spread the plans for a new development project starting next winter.

Mike said he’d put me in charge of it, and according to him, a project of this size, here in Green Mountain, wasn’t a common occurrence. And I intended to be ready to impress him, more than ever, with my planning skills, leadership, and dedication. Excitement ran through me. I missed those. The big projects with great budgets and stricter deadlines.

A few weeks back, over the drinks we agreed to have together, Mike confided Tuck told him about the condo fuck-up back in Chicago and that he was more interested than ever in selling me parts of the business. Or the entire thing when I was ready. His proposition sounded good, and I promised I’d look into it. Seriously.

Bent over the table, I studied the plans for over half an hour before Jack woke up. He came to me as soon as his eyes sprang open, his tiny feet padding on the hardwood floor.

“Hey little guy. How was sleep?”

Jack yawned as he lifted his arms, asking me to pick him up. I sat him on my lap.

“Those are construction plans for retirement homes I’ll be building. Right now, I’m building cabins. We could ask your Mama to bring you one day to see the big trucks,” I stretched my arms as to prove my point, “and excavators. Would you like that?”

Jack nodded, his face still flushed and innocent from his slumber.

“Mama?”

“Your Mama had to go to her store for a few hours. She thought you and I could spend some time together. Do you think it’s a good idea?”

He nodded again.

“Great. I might ask for your help later. I’m removing the old disgusting wallpaper in the bedroom upstairs and I could use those big muscles of yours.” I scrunched up my nose, and a smile glowed on his face. “Gimme a fist-bump,” I said as we connected our balled hands. “Hungry? I could make you something. I’m not sure you had breakfast earlier.”

“Hungry,” he echoed.

“Let’s see what we’ve got.” I sat Jack on the kitchen countertop, a hand around his waist to prevent him from falling, as I rummaged through the refrigerator.

Jack poked my arm, and when I turned around, he held a banana in his hand.

“You want that.” He nodded. “With toast?” He smiled. “I’ll bring your toys down here, and you can play while I make you a five-star restaurant worth breakfast.”

Ten minutes later, with Jack perched on my lap, we ate our breakfast together. I studied the plans still spread before me, making calculations so Mike could produce an estimate.

The sippy cup fell to the floor, and when I leaned forward to grab it, my eyes took in Jack, and my breath hitched.

My heart plummeted to my stomach. My body froze. Everything came to a standstill. Time stopped yet moved at supersonic speed.

Jack’s face was turning blueish. His body stiffened as he tried to take a breath. He brought one hand to his mouth. And his body slumped.

“Breathe, little guy. Breathe.”

All my movements seemed too sluggish.

Jack’s eyelids fluttered.

No air came in and out of his lungs. Nor mine.

As if he’d forfeited the fight, his tiny body turned limp in my arms.

“Stay with me, Jack. Oh God, stay with me. Please hold on. Come on, little guy.”

Life had a twisted sense of humor. Derek, Buddy. And now Jack. No way. Not under my watch. I’d give my life for this boy. Any day. Any time.

My last reanimation class was from when I started working for Cody years ago. And it only included what to do on a construction site. Not in a kitchen with a child.

Even though I knew the basics, I had no idea what technique to use on a toddler.

My body woke up. Adrenaline stirred in my blood.

The numbing of my mind washed away, and I jumped to my feet and laid Jack on the floor.

Taking the phone in my hand, I called nine-one-one.

“…must be choking. Have you checked his mouth? How old is he? Do you know CPR?”

I put the device on speaker. My bent finger swept Jack’s mouth cavity, searching for a piece of food lodged there. Images flashed before my eyes. Yes, I had cut the banana into small bites. And the toast too. That I was certain. Still, was it enough for him to choke on it? Or could he have swallowed something else?

“Sir, please confirm your address. We’ll send an ambulance.” I did, and the lady kept talking to me, assisting me as I hunted for a piece of food clogging Jack’s airways.

Nothing.