Shift Happens (Providence Family Ties 2)

Clearing my throat, I shifted awkwardly in my seat. “Yeah, sorry. I was just trying to imagine how big her credit card would need to be to fit it all in,” I laughed weakly.

“They only come in one size, so she’s going to have to decide on one or the other. Now, hang tight, and I’ll put you through to the floor she’s on.”

While I listened to the irritating jazz holding music, I shook off the mild anxiety still filling me at the thought of being in a relationship right now.

My brother had recently gotten married and had a baby with his wife, Sadie, and I loved seeing them together.

Elijah had changed after he’d lost his best friend, but she’d brought him back to life again, and I’d forever be indebted to her for that. They suited each other perfectly, and his seriousness fell to the wayside when she was around, letting the lighter side of him that we hadn’t seen since he was a kid out. Sadie was also hilarious and a blast, so I think everyone enjoyed being around her.

Yep, they were the perfect pair.

But I had zero desire to be tied down. I’d only just turned twenty, and my twin brother, Marcus, was the one out of the two of us who was old before his time. He’d be the one to settle down first—I’d bet my truck on it, and I loved my truck.

Now, there’s a relationship Jackson style. I’d only had the vehicle for three months, and it was totally oversized for Arizona and college, but I was planning to help Marcus out on his stud ranch during school breaks, so that was my excuse for buying the Ford F-450 King Ranch. It’d also come in handy with all of the boxes from Ted’s store, so I could use that as an extra excuse from now on.

The operator came back on the line, apologizing that no one was picking up on Sasha’s floor, so I decided to just go there and hope for the best.

When I got to the hospital, I was surprised to find a parking spot near the entrance that was also right near a booth with a guard in it.

Jumping out, I considered moving the boxes inside the back of the cab, but with the sun beating down on me, I’d rather not expend extra energy that’d leave me a sweaty mess if I didn’t have to.

So, jogging up to the small booth, I stuck my head around it to find a man watching some screens while he chomped down on a donut.

“Hey, you got a second?”

Picking another donut up out of the box, he nodded as he swallowed what was still in his mouth. “Sorry, had to work through lunch ‘cause that idiot Bernstein never showed up.”

“I hate it when that happens. I’ve got five brothers, and the amount of times one of them forgets something or just doesn’t turn up drives me nuts.”

Solidarity would sweeten him up for what I was about to ask him.

“Feel for your ma,” he muttered before he tore a chunk out of the new donut. “What can I do for you?”

Gesturing with my thumb over at my truck, I laid it out for him. “My…”—ah, fuck—“fiancée’s in hospital with a broken arm, leg, and concussion. She’s also got the flu, strep, and a chest infection, so she’s feeling like hammered shit.”

His eyes widened as he swallowed the donut. “You don’t say. That’s gotta suck.”

Nodding, I blew out a breath. “Yeah, it does. Anyway, I bought some of those disability aid things to help her out when she gets home, and they’re in the bed of my truck out in the open. Are you able to keep an eye on it for me, or would it be better to put them inside it?”

Getting up, he moved to where I was standing and then leaned out to look at the truck.

“Put the smaller shit inside, and I’ll keep an eye on the big boxes. People always go for the smaller ones because they’re easier to grab and run away with without being noticed.”

Smiling widely at him, I stuck my hand out. “’Preciate it, man.”

Shoving the donut between his teeth, he shook my hand with his sticky one before using it to push the rest of the donut in his mouth.

Backing away, I barely managed to not wipe my hand off on my jeans. It might insult him, and I needed his help with this.

So, I sucked it up and waited until I’d gotten everything I could that was small in the back of the truck, then pulled a wipe out of the package Mom had shoved in the glove compartment.

As I walked back to him, I made a show of wiping my hands off with it.

“Hooo, those things get dirty, don’t they? Just as well the stuff came in boxes, or I’d be wiping off dirt and bugs all day.”