Yours: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (33 page)

I shoulder my purse; hop down out of the cab. I walk slowly, hoping he’ll change his mind. He rolls down the passenger window, as if to say something. My heart lurches in my throat, but he shakes his head again. I hear the shifter jam into reverse, and then he’s backing out. Utah’s head hangs out the back window, her tongue lolling happily.
 

And yeah, just like that, he drives away. Not a backward glance, not a word of goodbye.
 

Bastard.
 

Fucking
bastard.

You make me better than I was before

I drive in a daze. I don’t know for how long, or how far. I managed to get my windshield fixed, and somewhere past the Oklahoma state line, I stop for gas, pumping it in a stupor.
 

I don’t dare let myself think.
 

Because I know I’m an idiot. I’m driving away,
again,
from the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

But I’m doing it on purpose. For her.

And for me.

I need a purpose. I need…to find myself. I fucking hate that cliché, but it’s true. Sometimes clichés become a cliché because they’re so damn true, you know?

Niall James deserves more than the man I am right now.
 

Too bad I don’t know how to explain that to her. I can barely make sense of it myself.
 

Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to leave myself a sliver of an opening with her, just in case. She left her purse in my truck while she was tending to the wounded. She had her phone in there, so I programmed my number in it, and then called myself from her phone, so I’d have her number. Maybe someday I’ll feel ready to re-connect with her.
 

Leaving like this feels wrong, but it also feels right. I’m falling for her. Shit, I’ve already fallen. I know she feels the same way. But I also know that’s not necessarily enough.
 

So I have to find that elusive
something.
The hell if I know what it might be, but I have to find it.

*
 
*
 
*

I read a quote somewhere, in some book, or maybe it was from a movie, I don’t know, but it said,
“Not all who wander are lost.”
It might possibly be from
The Lord of the Rings.
 

But, regardless, that sentiment may be true for some people, just not for me.

I’m lost as fuck.

I mean, I have GPS, so geographically, I know where I am. I really don’t know how I ended up here, or what my subconscious is trying to pull on me, but I just crossed the border from Nevada into California. Apart from stopping for gas and brief layovers at motels along the way, Utah and I have been driving for five days straight. Five days with nothing to think about except what the fuck I can do to find that elusive something I’m searching for.

I’ve got an inkling of something, but that’s about it. It’s not even really a full-fledged idea, really, more…the general
shape
of a possible idea. An idea of an idea. Basically, I know now that I’ve never felt so alive and appreciated and useful and…
fulfilled
…as when I was in Oklahoma, helping out after the tornado. I want to do that. I want that feeling again. I don’t really know how to describe it—that feeling that comes when you’re helping people, when you know you’re changing lives for the better. The sharp swelling ache in your gut, in your heart. I
want
that.

But I’m not a doctor. I’m not a nurse. Hell, I’m not even really a hard laborer, used to running machinery or hauling rubble around.
 

So how do I get that feeling? What are my skills? What are my resources?

I’m not sure about my skills, other than those I learned at sea, but I know I do have resources, a shitload of resources in the form of millions of dollars at my disposal. A fortune that’s been sitting around collecting interest, piling up on itself as Mom continues to expand the family businesses.
 

Driving down the highway my mind begins to spin, weaving ideas and dreams, pushing me outside my comfort zone and into the realm of
what if
, into the realm of doing something valuable and useful with your life.
 

The only true measure of a person is what they do with their lives.

Astrid was right. Damn me, but she was right. And I want to do something with my life. Niall germinated that seed, and I know that if I ever want to feel like I deserve her, like I’m a man worthy of a woman like her, I have to do something worthwhile.

Also, I just want to do it, for me. To finally
do
something real in this life, to be a man others can respect. And maybe, just maybe, I can find a way to use my financial resources to get into disaster relief.
 

Problem number one? I don’t have a single fucking clue about where to start.

Problem number two? You know who does know where to start? Mom.
 

Which is why, I suppose, after more long hours of thinking and driving, I find myself passing the iconic Beverly Hills sign, and then driving through the security gates at Mom’s house.
 

*
 
*
 
*

“You want to do
what?
” Mom is, understandably, incredulous.
 

“Disaster relief. I want to start a non-profit corporation that supplies funds and resources to international disaster relief organizations like the Red Cross and MSF.”
 

“MSF? What’s that?” She idly traces a pattern in the sweat on her glass of rosé.
 

We’re outside in the garden again, where Mom prefers to have her serious conversations.
 

“Doctors Without Borders.”

“Oh. And you want to give them money? Why not just make a donation, in that case? We could always use the tax write-off from a hefty charity donation.”
 

“No, Mom, not a single donation. I’m talking about starting a
business
. A corporation.”

She scrutinizes me. “You mean…you want to
work
?”

I frown at her. “Jesus, Mom, tell me how you really feel.”
 

“I’m sorry, Lachlan, but we’re past pulling punches at this point.” She examines her jade-green manicured fingernails studiously, pretentiously. “You’ve never worked. Never even shown a hint of interest in anything but booze and women and chasing the next adrenaline rush.”

I nod and stare down at my sweating glass of Pellegrino. “I know. But…I’m starting to want more.”

“What’s changed?”
 

I shrug. “You told me not to waste it. Getting a second chance, I mean. I experienced some things out there—” I wave a hand vaguely, indicating the world at large, “—that changed me. For the better, I hope. Made me want to…I don’t know. Do something worthwhile.”
 

Mom is quiet for a long time, staring at me, searching my face, thinking. “She must be pretty incredible.”
 

“Who?” My heart pounds, aches, hurts.

“Don’t bullshit me, Lachlan. The only force in this world that has the power to truly change a man is a woman. You
died
, and that was the spark, because you physically
had
to change the way you were living. But it didn’t really change who you were deep down.” She reaches out, takes my hand in both of hers; I don’t think she’s ever hugged me, not since I was a little boy, and she’s certainly never held my hand. So this physical contact between us? It’s huge. “So, if you’ve changed so much that you not only want to go into business, start working…but start a non-profit disaster relief corporation? The only way something like this happens to a man like you is through a truly amazing woman. So, who is she?”
 

I swallow hard. Keep my eyes on the table, hoping to hide the uncontainable wealth of emotion even thinking about Niall brings up inside me. “Niall. Her name is Niall. She—she’s a nurse. With MSF. I met her…well, it’s a long story.” I blink, focus on breathing, and consider how to tell my story. “Actually, it’s not a long story, just a hard one to tell. She and her husband both worked for MSF—Doctors Without Borders. They were here in California between assignments, and they got in a car wreck. Niall’s husband died. He—he was an organ donor.”
 

Mom’s face pales, and she sets down her glass. “Oh no. Lachlan, you don’t mean—”

I nod. Tap my heart over my chest. “Yep. His heart is in here. Keeping me alive.”

“How did you meet?”

I don’t answer right away. “I had Larry find her. I—I’m still not sure why, honestly. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was just…fucking lost. I was looking for any kind of direction, anything. I don’t know. Larry tracked her down in a little place called Ardmore, in Oklahoma. After Oliver died, she sort of…went into hiding, I guess you could say. Lost her drive, her will, or whatever. Her husband had gotten her into MSF, and she couldn’t do the work without him. I went down there to find her. I don’t know what I was hoping to accomplish, or what I thought I’d find, but what happened was…well, something I could never have predicted. I met her completely by accident, and—” I don’t know how to say the rest.

“Fell in love.” Mom cuts to the chase, as always.

“I guess so, yeah. She’s amazing. A seriously talented nurse, hard working, easy to talk to, and just…beyond beautiful. She’s everything good in this life.”
 

Mom’s eyes are soft and a little damp, hearing me. “Well, when do I get to meet her?”
 

I choke. “I don’t—I don’t know.” I stand up, pace away. Clench my hands into fists to disguise the way they shake. Stare out at the view of Los Angeles spread out beneath us. “I ended things. I walked away.”
 

“It sounds like you really care about her, Lock. I’ve never heard you talk about any woman this way. They’ve always seemed rather disposable to you, if I’m being honest. So why walk away, if you feel that strongly?”

“Women were never disposable to me, Mom.” I speak quietly, keeping my voice under tight control. “I acted that way on purpose. There were several women I really cared about, but I never let them get close because I knew I was going to die. Why let them get attached to a man with an expiration date? It wouldn’t have been fair to them.”

Mom is silent, hearing this. I hear her chair scrape, hear her heels on the flagstones, feel her behind me. “I never knew, Lachlan.”
 

“That’s the point. If I’d told them, oh, don’t bother falling in love with me because I’m gonna die, how many of them do you think would have tried to stick it out anyway, or prove some kind of point? It was my burden to bear.” I laugh. “Quite a burden, getting to spend that time with all those beautiful women.”

“Don’t gloss over it, Lachlan.” Mom touches my shoulder tentatively. “You were protecting them.”

“And sometimes the only way to make sure they left on their own was to play the part, act like they really were disposable to me. They weren’t, but they couldn’t know that.”

Her hand remains on my shoulder and, oddly, I don’t mind it. “So what about this woman from Oklahoma…Niall, you said her name is?”

I let out a shuddering breath. “Niall, yeah…I’ve never felt anything like what she makes me feel. Including…inferior. Which is why I walked away.”

“You’re not inferior—”

“Fucking
bullshit
, Mom! Yes, I am! Or, at least, I was. I’m working on changing that, which is the point of all this. You, my own mother, were stunned speechless when I suggested I go into business, let alone start a non-profit. I was a playboy, Mom. I did nothing. I had no value as a man. No way to measure my own self-worth. Everything I have came from you and Dad. I didn’t work for it, never earned it. Thirty-one years old, and I’ve accomplished precisely dick. No skills, no talents, no passions. Nothing. I can’t even drink anymore, which was the one thing I
was
good at! That and fucking, and now that I’ve met Niall, she’s all I want, all I can think about. So that’s out too. Makes me pretty damn inferior, I’d say.”

“Lachlan, you—”

“Just
listen
, Mom.” I turn around to face her. “I walked away because I have to
become
someone worthy of a woman like her. She’s back with MSF, finally, out there doing what she does best, what she loves—saving lives. She literally saves lives for a living, Mom. I watched her work, too. There was a tornado—”

Mom gasps, cutting me off. “My god, you mean that F-4 in Oklahoma? You were there?”

I nod. “We were smack dab in the middle of it. Ground zero. Saw the damn funnel with my own eyes, a few hundred yards away. And she didn’t—she never hesitated. She got to work, just automatically. Started a triage center for the injured and ran it by herself until the authorities showed up. And for the first time in my life, I felt useful. I pulled people out of the wreckage. Dug them out, in some cases. Went house-to-house, looking for survivors and bringing the wounded to Niall. It was…terrible, but amazing. Doing something
good
. Selfless.
 

“But once we left, went back to Ardmore, I knew I couldn’t be with her. She was going to go back to MSF—I knew it then, even if she didn’t. And what was I going to do? Follow her around? She deserves better. And I needed to—figure myself out, I suppose. I really do care about her. Love her, even. But it won’t work until I get my shit squared away. Until I do something worthwhile. Not for her, but for me. So I can feel worthy of her. That’s what this is about. I may never get her back, I realize that. Like I said, this is for me. But if I do ever get a second chance with her, I want to know I deserve her.”
 

Mom is crying. Quietly, elegantly, but crying. “I don’t know what to say, Lachlan.”
 

“Say you’ll help me.” I put my hands around her thin biceps, hold her. “I need your help. I can’t do this without you.”
 

She leans into me, runs a knuckle carefully underneath her eye to wipe away a tear without smudging her makeup. “Of course. I would love nothing more.”